Seized by the Star Wolf (9 page)

With Sawagga bonded to me, my towering mate at my side, I felt like nothing could stop us.

I had em
braced the beast within myself—

--
and she was looking forward to the future.

--THE END--

ALSO BY JENNIE PRIMROSE:

THE BBW AND THE SPACE LORD

http://amzn.com/B00DQSVNT0

Also available on Amazon UK:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00DQSVNT0

This humorous erotic adventure features a sassy BBW heroine, an alien hottie hero, outrageous action--and scorching, explicitly detailed love scenes that burn as hot as a supernova!
Heather Holzengruber’s world is a mess, all thanks to the Enpathians: a race of telepathic aliens who have invaded Earth, and brainwashed most of the citizens into becoming happy little drones. She’s lonely and feeling more than a little hopeless…
Until a certain dashing galactic crusader shows up.
He is Gearon Teague, last Lord of the Mekrons: seven feet tall, with wavy blue hair, electric violet eyes and a perpetual smug smile.
Heather is a big girl… But mighty Gearon has no problem manhandling her and carrying her off to his silver starship.
Despite his arrogance, Heather is charmed by the alien Lord’s noble nature—and his huge hands that seem to know just how to touch her curvy body.
Heather discovers that Gearon’s starship is the key to defeating the Enpathian invaders. He needs a female copilot to be “Bonded” to him in order unlock its most powerful weapon, though.
The Bonding is an intense mating ritual, a link of bodies and minds… Heather must decide how far she will submit to her alien Lord in order to save the Earth. Even if it means becoming “his” forever, with no turning back…

SAMPLE:

Commander Jessam of the Enpathian Planetary Corps.
heard the hiss of the outer airlock mechanism sealing. A moment later, a silhouette appeared behind the translucent tissue-wall of the organic biofilter membrane door of the inner airlock.

The newcomer stepped forward, pressing into the membrane, so that it molded itself to the obviously male contours of his humanoid body.

Seven feet tall, pure rippling muscle… She could see the outline of that square jaw and that haughty smile, so familiar to her, the sight making her chest ache with longing, lust… and regret.

The membrane passed over him with a slurping sound, and he stepped forward, fully revealed. Jessam sat back limp in her control seat, looked up at him, and sighed.

“Teague.” She choked down a sob. “After so long. And you don’t even have the decency to wear any clothes.”

Her eyes traced their way down from his wavy dark blue hair, to his deep and beckoning violet eyes, that incorrigible smile on his sensuous lips… Further down, traceries of curling blue hair ran cross his broad pecs, another line of hair
perpendicular to that running down his chest, bisecting abs so well-defined they reminded her of a sectioned Enpathian mollusk’s shell.

Down further, his manhood was rising from a nest of wild hair. That swelling monument to his maleness… Almost too thick and too long and yet oh so
perfect
.

And the sight of it made her realize that she had already grown moist between her legs, much to her humiliation.

“We can skip formalities, yes?” he said. “I came prepared to act.”

She stood and slowly stepped over to him, looking up at his face.

What does he really think of me,
she wondered?
This tiny Enpathian female, with my snow-pale skin and hair, thin and frail, so much shorter than he, the top of my head not even reaching his shoulders… Does he think of me as someone he once loved, or someone who now disgusts him?

Her people’s greatest power was their telepathy, the ability to read minds and emotions … but that wouldn’t work on him. No, Gearon Teague, last Lord of the Mekrons, would not succumb to such mental prying. 

Ironically, though
she
was not immune to his very basic male animal charms.

She would not be able to resist him—she had never been able to do so in the past—and the bastard knew this, dammit.

He would take her to the heights of ecstasy … Where her innermost thoughts would be broadcast so loudly that he’s be able to hear them, even though he wasn’t a telepath himself. He would ask his question and pleasure her until she psychically shouted the answer to him.

It would be an interrogation, using pleasure instead of pain.

His big, powerful hands clamped onto her slim shoulders, and he gazed down into her eyes. “You did not have to acknowledge my signal,” he said. “You did not owe me the privilege of docking with your ship. You could even have tried to blast my ship away, yes?”

She forced a weary smile. “You know I couldn’t do that,” she whispered. “But
you
could have at least left me my dignity. After all I’ve done for you so far … falsified records, helped you create your Preservation Datacore … How many more times would you have me betray my people?”  

Now, his expression turned somber. “The lives of over fifty quadrillion sentient beings are under threat. I need to know where your Grommalacht will be feeding next, the exact planet, surface coordinates and time.”

Jessam shook her head. “I won’t tell you that willingly,” she snarled, trying her best to put up a fight … if only to save face.

“Yes,” he sighed. “But, in a weaker state, you will be open to me. Or, maybe I should say… Once your body has been opened to me… Your mind will be shouting to me as well, yes?”

He moved behind her. She felt his hand at the collar of her flesh-suit, finding the hidden clasp.

Then, his fingers ran down her back, unsealing the suit. Both of his hands were on her then, peeling the suit from her and exposing her tender pale flesh of her back and arms.

He ran two heavy, warm fingers slowly down either side of her spine, making her shiver. Then, he pulled the remainder of the suit over her waist, buttocks and legs, until she was naked, her tiny white body exposed before his towering, muscle-laden form.

Still behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders again, gently but firmly forcing her down to her knees.

Once she was on the floor, his mouth was nibbling at her neck, then gliding down to tongue her spine. When he reached her taut buttocks, he bit one, hard, and she gasped.

Now, his powerful arms were under her belly, the hands briefly tweaking her small breasts and tiny nipples as he guided her forward, directing her so that her buttocks were high in the air, knees on the ground, her head and elbows on the floor.

“So that’s how it’s to be,” she said. “Taken from behind, because you do not wish to look into my eyes.”

“Correct, Jessam… I do not.” He sighed, and she thought she heard actual regret in his voice. “But I shall give you
such
pleasure. You are hungry for this, and that is why you let me aboard this ship. That pleasure is all I can give you now, sadly. But, in return, you can help me save countless lives.”

She tried to resent him, summon some kind of hatred for him, to brace herself against him.

But, despite herself, her body was warm and pliant, and she was wet … and ready.

Bent low behind her, he kissed and nibbled at her womanhood for only a moment before pulling himself up.

There was a quiet second of aching expectation… and then, she heard him softly grunt as that thick, long, warm, magnificent phallus was sliding into her.

So long, so much of it, too much… She could never take it all. But what he did get inside was enough to completely overwhelm her.

Warm surges of electrical ecstasy pulsed through her body.

The surges became vibrations, frequencies of pleasure relaxing her muscles and breaking down all of her barriers.

She couldn’t focus, or fight… Could only take what he gave her…

He asked again, firmly. “The Grommalacht. Where, when? Now—TELL ME.”

She screamed three times then.

Once, the psychic scream of her weakened mind, answering him, giving him the exact information he sought.

The second scream was a wail of release of a powerful climax, her pussy muscles spasming over the massive intruding cock, clenching and pumping as, deep inside her, her interrogator released gushes of his own steaming seed.

The third scream came after he pulled out of her, stood, and walked away towards the airlock. It was an angry and wretched sound that hurt her lungs. Not directed, really, at him, or what had just occurred …

But directed at a cold, sterile universe in which one small female, trying to be loyal to her people and do right, had been left so hurting and alone.  

After this final scream, she sat alone for long moments before she heard the clang of his ship’s docking mechanism’s release and knew that he was truly gone… again.

#

Lord Gearon Teague, last of the Mekrons, watched Jessam’s vintage, silver-black ship--saucer-shaped with a distinctive square hyperdrive unit mounted on top--retreat on his viewscreen.

He sighed heavily as he punched a new set of coordinates into his navigation system.

Physically, their encounter had brought him pleasure.

But emotionally… Jessam had once meant a great deal to him. He had once thought, even, that she might possibly be THE ONE, the female to share the Bond with him, his Lady, partner, and eternal soulmate. But, when the Grommalacht’s hunger had gone out of control and the Enpathian people continued to serve it, Jessam along with them…

And then his planet destroyed, his own people betrayed and killed in the bargain…

The ship he now flew, the grand prototype called the
Astral Tryst,
had been designed to be flown by a Bonded couple. He managed as best he could as a single pilot, but it served as a constant reminder of his loneliness.

I’ll never be Bonded,
he thought.
I’ve loved and lain with many ladies, true, but never found THE one. And now I will most likely die alone. Probably quite soon, yes?

His attack would likely prove fatal--but he had to try it. He couldn’t let the Enpathians’ atrocities continue. The Grommalacht had to be stopped.

At the height of her pleasure, Jessam had given him the navigation coordinates he’d needed. Now, he brought them up on his screen.

It was a blue-green planet, third from its sun, a textbook variety garden world,
perfect for humanoid life. About 30,000 light years from galactic center, out on one of the spiral arms…

Just enough
time to get there and think up some clever stratagem along the way…
he thought.
If not, there’s always “Plan B.” Grim as it seems, yes?

He sat back in his chair, engaged the hyperdrive, and prayed to every benevolent deity whose name he could remember to help his mission to succeed.

#

Heather Holzengruber was halfway up the stairs to the projection room when she saw the footprints: wet footprints on the concrete stairs, leading down. She thought that they must have been made by shoes or boots with very large soles.

I wonder if Karrie’s been up here again with one of her boyfriends?,
she thought.
Well, I can’t blame her for trying to get a little thrill where she can. Not nowadays.

But the size of this guy’s feet… He must be HUGE. Maybe in more ways than one, considering what they say about big feet…

She continued up the steps and opened the door to the projection room.

This had been a struggling art house cinema before the invasion, and the projector was old, pre-digital… But at least it had a flat spool onto which the entire film could be wound, so she didn’t have to switch reels or anything. She flicked the switches to turn the house lights down and started the projector. She peeked through the little window into the theater to check the focus. The RKO Pictures logo at the beginning of
King Kong
was in glorious black and white focus, and everything looked okay.

They had a bunch of vintage films that had been part of the cinema’s permanent library, copies of
Casablanca
,
the Sound of Music
… even
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
, which had been a midnight favorite until… recent events.

They kept showing the old films for the few who would come to see them. It wasn’t so much the movies themselves that mattered, and they certainly didn’t expect to gain anything by this. Money was worthless now, anyway, since the invaders provided food and energy and all of the essentials.

But at least the cinema gave those few who still cared a place to gather and cling together and celebrate the not-very-distant past, when human art and history mattered.

It was only when she turned to leave that she saw it. The device had been stuck onto the side of the projector. It was shaped something like a flattened fist, silvery and iridescent, with glowing filaments reaching out to stretch over the front of the projector’s lens. Other filaments reached down inside the projector itself. The thing must have been dull before, inactive; when she’d turned the projector on, it had come to life.