ROMANCE: MY ALIEN KING: Scifi Alien Invasion Abduction Contemporary Romance (Paranormal Fantasy BBW Alien Contact Anthologies & Collections Book 1) (66 page)

But when she saw Paul step out of the school in his full dress blues, for the first time in her long history with him it dawned on her that she'd made a mistake playing with him the way that she had. She realized that she should have stuck things out with Paul, maybe even married him after high school. Sure, Daddy wouldn't have liked it very much, but really, would it have mattered what he thought? He was dead, after all, and she was still alive and lonely despite the fact that the man she was currently shacked up with claimed to love her. But he was small potatoes, just another divorced middle-aged dad with shared custody of his spoiled brat of a daughter. She knew her time with him was short. She knew this because she wasn't the type of woman you kept. She was the type of woman you snorted Coke and got drunk with; she was the type of woman you rented a sleazy motel room with and fucked in the ass. But she knew things would be different with Paul. He would treat her like a lady; he would treat her like he loved her and her alone.

But then she saw the pretty little red head. Jenna had seen her before, leading kindergarteners out to their parents’ cars and daycare buses. She was cute as a button, and Jenna couldn't stand her on sight. She was the type of woman who would eventually make some lucky son of a bitch an ideal wife and mother. She would be able to handle both home and career with grace and stability. She would have a successful, long and happy life. Jenna thought about running her over with her boyfriend's Acura the minute she saw her, but held back the urge like she always somehow managed to do. But when she saw Paul turn and hug the young woman, she suddenly felt the urge to harm even more strongly.

At that very second Jenna McClean, the one-time queen of Gold Canyon High School and the city of Apache Junction, decided that she was going to murder Missy Sanders for stealing away her long-lost puppy dog.

Chapter 6

The week dragged by so much that I felt like I was going insane. After meeting Missy on Monday, each day dribbled by like it was made of thick tar. No matter how I tried to occupy myself, I found myself drifting off and my thoughts filling with Missy. Each night after the workday was done, I would sit out on my porch smoking, counting down the minutes until I knew she would be home and settled. All I wanted to do was hear her voice, her laugh. To be honest, I felt a bit like a stalker, and that at any minute while we were on the phone talking, she would tell me abruptly to stop calling her, that I was creeping her out.

But it never happened. Whenever I called, she sounded breathless and excited, like she had been waiting by the phone anticipating me. We would talk for hours each night, asking about our days and chatting about simple things at first before we headed into deeper territory: our childhoods, our past loves, our past lives. No subject was forbidden and neither of us judged one another. When we would finally hang up, I would then spend the rest of the evening pacing the house, thinking about what I would say the next time we talked, and then when I went to bed, I sat up half the night thinking about her, my mind wired.

Then it was finally the Friday of the carnival, our first date. I was sweaty and nervous when I picked her up at her apartment, a retirement condo complex she shared with her bed-ridden grandmother. The old lady met me at the door and gave me an appraising eye and a little wink as I escorted her granddaughter down to my Jeep. Missy was dressed stunningly in a simple white summer dress and comfortable-looking brown leather sandals. Compared to her I felt overdressed in my cowboy gear, and I have to admit I felt like a bit of a goof in my snakeskin boots and brand-new Levis. But she didn't seem to notice my discomfort and even went so far as to compliment me.

The carnival itself was simple and fun. All of the food stalls and games were manned by the school children, their parents, and Missy's fellow teachers, who all poked fun at her for somehow getting out of having to work the carnival. They made fun, but each time after we left one of the booths her colleagues, particularly the female ones, would give her an appraising smile or nod. Obviously, most of them liked the shape of me. We spent a couple of hours wandering the carnival, talking about just about every subject under the sun and eating buckets of crappy fried foods. Soon enough, we found ourselves back at my Jeep, our bodies pressed against one another, her mouth on mine, the taste of chocolate and popcorn rich on our tongues. Our kisses seemed to go on forever, both us completely oblivious to anything or anyone. Finally she pushed me away breathlessly.

"Take me home," she said with a wicked smile. Being a little slow on the uptake, my heart sank a little.

"You ... You want me to take you back home to your apartment?" I asked nervously.

She giggled like a little girl and then put her delicate hands against my chest.

"I think we'll end up waking up my grandma with what I'm planning to do to you, so you’d better take me back to your place instead."

                                                                                    ***

Jenna watched the two of them kiss and fumble at each other like teenagers for almost an hour, her vision going red with each passing second. After the redhead pushed Paul away, she knew damn well where they were headed and what they were going to do, and she was going to make goddamn sure that wasn't going to happen. And if it somehow did, she was going to make sure that it was going to be the last piece of ass that little girl was ever going to get in her short life.

                                                                                    ***

We barely made it through the front door of the cabin before I had Missy's clingy little white summer dress ripped off of her body. For as small and lithe as she appeared the two times I had previously seen her, she was actually quite voluptuous. Her breasts were perfect, heavy orbs and her hips and behind were heart shaped and firm. As we kissed in the doorway, I swept her up into my arms like she was my bride and she laughed as she cradled my neck and nibbled at my left ear lobe.

I laid her down on my narrow bachelor's bed—which suddenly seemed far too small—and laid her gently down on top of the rough blankets. She reached behind and unfastened her bra, her breasts spilling out. I took her delicate pink nipples into my mouth, toying with them with my tongue and teeth, her breath quickening as I gently nibbled. I kissed a slow trail down to her silky white underwear, slipping the damp garment away from her hips and down her legs, continuing my trail of kisses down until I plunged my mouth and tongue into the hairless folds of her vagina. As I lapped at her clitoris, I felt her fingers push through my thick sweaty hair, her grip tightening with each movement of my tongue, her hips thrusting against my mouth until she was practically smothering me with her wetness.

Her orgasm was like an abrupt desert thunderstorm. Her moans seemed to take on a physical form and filled the room as her heady taste drenched my mouth and face. She urged me on top of her, and for the first time I noticed I was still fully dressed. I ripped myself out of my shirt and fumbled at my belt and the buttons of my pants. I was filled with animal frustration as my fingers suddenly felt too large and clumsy, but Missy took charge and finished stripping me down and pulled me on top of her. She guided me inside of her, rubbing the head of my cock against her still-throbbing clit to lubricate it, and then plunging me inside of her. Her moans once again took on a life of their own as I slid easily inside of her up to the hilt.

I felt her legs wrap tightly around my back, as if she was somehow trying to will my entire body inside of her. Her hips bucked wildly as she came again. Breathlessly, I pulled out of her and laid myself flat on my back, and she climbed on top of me and began to slowly rock back and forth, her cunt gripping my cock in its silky wet folds. After a few minutes, I could feel my own orgasm beginning to build, but then she suddenly pulled me out of her wet cunt, repositioning her body slightly forward and then pushing the head of my cock into the pucker of her ass. She pushed down, her teeth slightly gritting as pushed the rest of me inside the tight warmth of her behind. With each movement, she convulsed with pleasure as she rubbed at her clit. Finally, I couldn't hold back a second longer and I exploded inside of her.

                                                                                    ***

She was far from done with me after that first time, and I was more than willing. But after a couple of hours, we both collapsed into a sweaty heap of flesh and fell fast asleep. I woke up around 3 am, my throat parched, and I stumbled to the kitchen for a long drink of water. As I came back to the bedroom, I noticed that the bedroom light was on. I smiled to myself thinking that Missy was up and willing to have another go at it (as tired as I was, I had to admit I was up for it).

But when I walked into the room, I saw something that froze me in my tracks. Jenna was standing over Missy, a thick wad of Missy's red hair gripped in one hand and a razor-sharp hunting knife held against her throat in another.

"I swear to God, Paul, you take one step closer I'm gonna cut her throat from ear to ear!"

Sometimes, the things you love the most come back to haunt you. In my case, they come back to kill something I loved even more.

"Jenna... Jenna, you don't want to do this."

"
You’re making me do this
!"

I looked at Missy, her eyes filled with tears, pleading me with me to stop this mad woman, and suddenly my body seemed to take on a life of its own. With blinding speed, I chucked my water glass at Jenna's head. It missed its mark and shattered across her shoulder. I charged her, jumping over the bed and tackling her to the floor. She still had the knife clutched in her hand and, as my weight fell on top of hers, she let out an almost animal scream of pain. It shocked me so much that I pushed off of her and saw that the knife had plunged into her stomach just below the ribs. Her eyes were full of panic as her blood gushed from the grizzly wound. I tried to staunch the bleeding with my hands, but I knew that she was bleeding too heavily, and no matter what I did there was no saving her. Despite my anger at her for all the things she'd done to me in the past and for what she'd almost done to Missy, I held her in my arms and wept as the last of her life slowly drained out of her.

Epilogue - Six Months Later

The one thing I've realized since that dreadful night is that I've always been a searcher. I've spent my entire life searching for some type of purpose, something that I thought would make me a better person, or set me apart from my brothers and my family. Something that was entirely my own. Thinking back about the way my life once was, I knew that my life was nothing but foolishness and that my search was always leading me back to one place and one person.

The place is the ranch. I know now it's where I've always belonged.

And the person was Missy. I didn't know it then, and maybe that's why I always clung to the idea of being with Jenna. Because Jenna was just practice, someone to teach me what love isn't, so that when love finally found me, I would be ready for it.

But the fact is, I wasn't just looking for one person. I was looking for two. Missy, and my daughter.

She's due to arrive in another four months, and both Missy and I are teaching each other how to love her more than anything else.

It's been a long road, a long search, but I can't tell you how glad I am to have made it here.

TESS AND THE ALIEN WARRIOR

              She climbed behind the controls of the floater craft
and thought,
It's obvious these things were made for a different body type than mine
.

              Tess Beckett did not need a body of lean, slender curves for the kind of work she did or the kind of life she led.  These days, when having a plump figure was strictly an option and the majority of people did not opt for it, Tess could have easily checked herself in for an afternoon of adipose laser surgery and had done with it.  And she had always meant to do so, but it had never seemed terribly urgent.  When things were not urgent, Tess always had a habit of thinking,
Ah, there's always tomorrow.
  In her life as a diplomat and a negotiator, other things had always seemed more pressing.  There was always some political fire to put out on some planet.  There was always some dispute on some world that needed her skill for mediation.  There were treaties to be ironed out, or the occasional new sentient species to be welcomed into the galactic community.  She was a busy woman and had little time for vanities, especially since her pretty face, bright blue eyes, and long curls of auburn hair—so lovely when she did them into a single braid—were enough to see her through most situations.

              But neither her presentable face nor her gifts for diplomacy had enabled her to defuse the political bomb that was ticking in the Lotar Valley on the planet Sarma today.

              She had dressed more casually for the work than was her custom , opting for a simple pullover shirt and a coverall that lent themselves to piloting a floater better than her body did.  Squeezing herself into the pilot's seat of the floater, Tess actually heard herself grunt in a manner that did not befit her dignified position as a diplomat.  These quick, hovering craft were built for the use of Sarmians; and these Sarmians, make no mistake, were primarily a race of warriors.  Muscular, lean, athletic warriors; people with bodies hers would have resembled if she had not put off that adipose laser treatment. 
Note to self,
she thought. 
We have really
got
to get around to working on our procrastination, the very first chance we get.
 

The general wisdom held that the Sarmians were long-lost cousins of the human race, descendants of early humans who had been taken off the planet by alien experimenters eons ago.  The alien abductors themselves had long since vanished, perhaps done in by the very war that they had bred the Sarmians to fight. At the moment Tess would not have minded a little artificial selection for herself, feeling distinctly uncomfortable at the controls of a craft designed for someone sleeker than she.

              Running her fingertips along the lighted surfaces of the control panel, Tess recalled the afternoon when, to entertain her, one of the pilots here at the regional capital of this sector of Sarma had offered to teach her how to operate a floater.  She had spent the last few weeks at the capital, a luxurious place of terracotta-colored domes and sparkling fountains and pools set into one of the mountainous areas of the planet.  She had come here to help the Sarmians settle into their new status quo.  With their new king, Dantar, ascending to the throne, the time of internecine wars that had divided the planet and taxed its resources was over.  It was time for the warring factions, which had fought over the throne since Dantar's father became unfit to be king, to iron out the last of their differences and get on with their new lives.  Tess had jumped at the chance to help them do it and left Earth to aid in the negotiations between tribes.  That was what had brought her to the Lotar Valley—and that was where she met Rendar.

              The thought of Rendar motivated her to recall more clearly her day of floater piloting lessons.  The man was as magnificent as any terrestrial male beauty she had ever seen.  He was built as much for pleasure as for battle.  The Sarmians had the unusual trait—by Earth standards—of hair on their foreheads in a tapering pattern down to the bridge of the nose.  In Rendar's case, the forehead hair complemented the spread of hair across a chest like two shields of hard, muscular flesh and down the rocky road of his abs.  These were the highlights of a body of muscle with massively powerful arms, formidable shoulders and legs, and a broad, mighty back that made him look as if he could hold up the mountains of his home like the mythical Atlas holding up the Earth.  Judging by what she had seen of him, Tess could only imagine what kind of war club he must have in his private arsenal, but she shook off that thought as too distracting for the moment.  If she could not head off the thing that was about to happen, the universe might be deprived of that wondrous masculinity.

              Recalling what buttons to press to lift the floater out of its spot in the outdoor hangar space of the capital, Tess got the thing off the ground and made it skim its way out from among the other vehicles and into the surrounding terrain.  Soon she had it humming over grass and out to the hillsides where the interior of the Lotar Valley awaited.  She was grateful that her chosen assignment was in one of the more temperate areas of Sarma.  She had heard of some of the fauna that inhabited the desert areas of the planet—like those vicious, burrowing shambleclaws—and was perfectly happy not having to deal with any of them.  All things considered, Sarma was a planet as lovely as Earth, in spite of the toll that the wars for the throne had taken on large sections of it.  In fact, it was widely believed that contact between Sarma and Earth had unfolded peacefully because Sarma's infrastructure was in such disarray and its resources were so depleted from all the conflict.  An interstellar skirmish with these proud, aggressive people was the last thing Earth needed.  Besides, with a Sarmian like Rendar there were things so much more pleasing to do than fight.

              Unbidden but not exactly unwelcome, the image of Rendar once again came into Tess's mind.  He had the body of a warrior, but his square-jawed face was built for other things entirely.  Those dark eyes and that perfectly trimmed dark hair accented features that demanded surrender on something other than a battlefield.  As she had helped to hammer out the new peace treaty between Rendar's tribe and their neighbors, Tess's mind had turned again and again to negotiations of a different kind with Rendar himself.  The tribal leader had treated her cordially during her stay at the capital.  He had escorted her on a personal tour of the Capitol compound itself and been her host for a display of Sarmian battle skills to entertain the diplomats from Earth.  The Sarmians were extremely proud of their mastery of combat. It was ironic that they had entertained their human guests with mock battles during peaceful functions, but it was the Sarmian way.  And Rendar, clad only in his battle kilt with shield plates strapped to his chest and shoulders, made the most stunning of combatants.  Gliding over the field and toward the forest on the floater, Tess recalled the sight of him on this very plain, striding out with sword and spear, leading the men of his tribe in war games.  How like a god of battle he had seemed—a handsome, noble god.

              In quieter functions, Rendar had paid Tess personal attention, sitting with her at banquets, telling her stories of the history of his planet and his tribe, fascinating her with the strange duality of his people.  The Sarmians were basically as advanced as Earth, but their ways seemed so much more primeval.  She ironically found them more "earthy" than the people of Earth, in spite of their having the same level of culture and technology.  From talking with Rendar, she had picked up on how intrigued the Sarmians were with their cousins from across space.  To the Sarmians, terrestrial humans were everything they were and everything they were not:  a strong and hardy but oddly genteel race.  Rendar had never said it in so many words, but Tess had always had the feeling that he and his people found Earth humans rather "soft."  And by Sarmian standards, they were.  There were no women like her among the younger women of Sarma.  On this planet, soft and  round bodies were the province and privilege of age.  To be sure, the magnificent Rendar had never known the intimacy of a woman less magnificent than himself.  Tess had never asked him what he actually thought of her.  She had the feeling that he liked her well enough, but that his fondness was mostly an appreciation of her manners and her helpfulness.  He certainly could never think of her in the same way that he thought of the women of his own world.  Tess knew she was a curiosity to Rendar, and that was all.

              And as fascinating as Tess found this leader of his tribe, the one thing she did not want to know about him was how red his blood was in comparison with her own.  Depending on the outcome of what was about to happen today, something she had been powerless to prevent, she might just have to face the dread of finding out.

              Now that she was getting the hang of piloting this craft, which ordinarily would be piloted for her, Tess felt confident enough to speed up her skimming path into the forest.  She swooped and swerved around trees with bark that resembled the scales of fish, and flowers in shapes and combinations of colors that never occurred on Earth, and grasses in more shades of green than she could count, looking more like the bristling manes of horses than like vegetation.  All of these she had admired on previous visits out here, and might have stopped to admire more, if her course and destination were not so urgent.

              She sped her way down along the forested slope of a hillside, the natural beauty of Sarma becoming a blur in her focused eyes.  At the bottom of the slope, the forest broke into a broad meadow, on the other side of which lay a hill like the one she had come down.  Midway between the meadow and the other hillside, a river meandered its way through this, the heart of the Lotar Valley.  On her side of the river, a large gathering of Sarmians had divided itself into two groups.  One group huddled around a figure which Tess could not see, but whose identity she could well guess.  The other group congregated near a proud, muscled, chest-and-stomach-haired figure clad only in a battle kilt and boots, whom Tess recognized instantly.  Rendar looked on with curiosity and concern as Tess lowered the floater to the grass of the meadow, climbed out, and headed directly for him.  Tess saw that he was holding a mighty spear with a formidable, leaf-shaped blade at either end.  She gulped at the sight of it.

              She reached Rendar's side directly, and for the first time in their acquaintance he looked as if he were not happy to see her.  "Tess," he said, more sternly than she had ever heard him speak. “What are you doing here?  Why have you come?  This is not a matter for off-worlders.  Your diplomatic corps would not approve."

              "That's why I didn't tell them I was coming," answered Tess. “And now it's too late to stop me.  I want you to stop this.  The wars are over, Rendar.  This is madness."

              "Nay," Rendar said.  "'Tis not madness.  It is tradition.  You have studied our ways, Tess.  You know this."

              "I know there are alternatives.  Listen to me.  This is a new chapter in your history.  You have a new king and you've begun a relationship with a new world—mine.  You can learn new ways to do things.  I helped you work out a peace treaty with Godan's tribe.  Let me help you work out some kind of peace between you and Godan himself.  You don't have to do this."

              "For a woman skilled in negotiation," said Rendar, "you are most stubborn.  Yes, we must do as we do.  The treaty that you helped to strike between our tribes was between the tribes themselves.  Each side made concessions for the good of both.  That matter is resolved.  This matter... is not.  It is not about the division of resources or the drawing of territorial borders.  It is a personal dispute between Godan and me.  His wife is no more.  She fell at my hand."

              "Godan's wife was a casualty of war.  In what war do people take revenge for casualties on one soldier?"

              "I was not merely a soldier, Tess.  I was and I am the leader of my tribe, as Godan is the leader of his.  On our planet, matters of personal combat may incur personal retribution, the pursuit of personal satisfaction.  I slew Godan's wife.  By custom and tradition he may seek satisfaction from me.  And by custom and tradition—especially as the leader of my tribe—I am bound to answer his call.  This battle needs must be."

              Tess poured all of her frustration and fear, and not a little anger at the whole bloody situation, into her protest.  "What is with you people?  You talk like poets and you act like... like..."

              Rendar gave her an intense, cautioning look, a gaze to warn her to measure her reactions and select her words with the greatest care.  "Yes?" he dared her to finish that sentence.

              She shut her eyes and sighed, choosing discretion in the end.  "I'm sorry, Rendar.  I just don't want to see you hurt.  You've come so far and accomplished so much.  You're at peace, ready to make a new start.  I don't want to see you lose it all."

              His look softened at this.  "What we have accomplished has been with your help, Tess.  'Twas your patience, your wisdom, your help and guidance that brought Godan's tribe and mine to where we are now.  From the day you arrived on Sarma, I have admired your firm but gentle hand in the way that you have advised and counseled us.  I have admired your understanding of history, the history of my planet and your own; and your understanding of the needs that shape our ends.  You have shown skill in diplomacy, in speech, in approaching people and encouraging dialogue.  You are a true diplomat.  As much as you fear for me, I fear for you sacrificing all that you are and all that you have done with your life on my behalf.  I ask you to show the same understanding that you showed in our negotiations—and stand aside and let be that which now must be, whatever may come."