“No other will give this to you,” the one behind me growled, his hand fisting in my hair to pull my head back. He angled my head up until I looked at him over my shoulder and kissed me hard and deep as the man below took over playing with my nipples. Had I said the last out loud?
His tongue thrust deep as his cock moved inside my ass, hard and fast and without mercy. The scream built in my throat as my body tightened around them both, the pain of holding back building like a bomb about to explode inside me.
He broke the kiss and bit down gently on my ear. “Come, mate. Now.”
At his dominating tone, the morphing heat from that smack to my ass and the cocks buried deep inside me, I shattered.
I screamed and bucked as they held me locked between them. My muscles tightened then went limp, tightened again, giving over to the pleasure they were giving me. My palms pressed into the hot skin of the man’s chest below me, my fingers curling and most likely leaving small welts as my pussy tightened on him like a fist.
The men moved faster, unrelenting, fucking me and alternating their motions, keeping the feelings of bliss alive, making my pleasure linger and linger until I had no breath left and I exploded again, the sharp tug of my mate’s hand in my hair holding me in place like iron shackles, my only physical anchor. I could not pull free, could not escape their possession, could do nothing but accept the dominant thrusts of their cocks as they claimed me with a hunger that drove my own. I spiraled again, so close, my body not yet satisfied, and whimpered a denial as I felt them stiffen and swell, fill me to the brink, then come.
Their seed spurted hotly into me, so much so that it seeped out, coated me. Them. We were one, united, and I’d been the one to do it, to create this family. They were mine.
The mate at my back licked my neck, tasting the glistening moisture their attentions had wrung from me. “Good girl, showing everyone how your mates bring you pleasure. There is no question that you belong to us. You want us, need us, just as much as we need you.”
I felt the man before me sit up, strong and powerful muscles rippling beneath my palms. His mouth crushed my lips in a searing kiss as I felt the man behind me nibble my ear, my neck, gently bite down on my shoulder. The pain made my hips jerk and I slid down, drove both of their cocks deeper inside me as I surrendered completely, trapped between them. Worshipped by both.
“Mate,” they repeated, over and over. Neither pulled out. Neither softened within me. I knew we weren’t done. We’d fuck again and all I could say was…
“Please.” I needed them to hurry. To move. To bite me. Spank me. Fuck me like they’d never get enough. I was still on the edge, my appetite for them nowhere near appeased. “Please, hurry.”
“Miss Webster.”
That voice was annoying, and didn’t belong to my mates. I ignored it, focusing on the heated bodies surrounding me. I needed more. Why weren’t they moving? Talking? Fucking me? Making me theirs. Making me feel.
“Please,” I begged again. “Give it to me. Both of you.”
“Miss Webster!”
It wasn’t a man’s voice who was talking now, but a woman’s, and her voice was loud and full of intensity that had nothing to do with sex. Or orgasms. Or hard, thrusting cocks.
No. No. No. I fought to hold on to them, to the pleasure, but my mates faded, like I was truly waking up from a dream. One hot, fucking amazing dream.
I opened my eyes, blinked. Then again.
Crisp white walls. A less-than-appealing hospital gown rubbing my sensitive nipples. Arms chained to my sides by hard metal as I sat in a chair with weirdo computer gadgets and sensors attached to my body and head. I was naked under the gown, the hard seat beneath my bottom smeared and wet with my arousal.
Warden Egara, with her dark hair, kind eyes and stern expression staring at me like I was a freak in the circus.
Oh. My. God.
Embarrassing. God, could she smell it? Did I smell like sex? What would she think of me? Was I supposed to be this turned on? I doubted it. I must be some kind of mutant show for her today. Poor little Kristin, who couldn’t trust men. Who hadn’t had a date in three years. Who saw a man on his phone and assumed he was watching child pornography, or hiring hookers, or dozens of other things I’d seen wicked men do.
There was a reason I was here, at the Interstellar Brides processing center. I’d seen too much. I needed a fresh start. And maybe I could turn off my brain and actually enjoy myself in bed with an alien, a guy I knew was honorable and who was matched to me by the most advanced dating system ever created. The matching protocols made human website dating look like stone-age tools next to a rocket ship.