The warden was trim and beautiful, and everything I’d never been. She probably had men lining up to ask her out, to get her naked and make her come all over their cocks.
Me? Men asked me to dog-sit and go get coffee. The orgasm I’d just had? Yeah, it was the first given to me by someone else since I was barely out of high school. My lovers had been few and far between, and not one of them strong enough to lift me up and fill me from behind. Or to know exactly how to touch me, how to push me to the brink, taunt me, then take me over.
I knew my eyes were glazing over, but I couldn’t help relishing the memory, the feeling of that huge cock filling me up and making me a touch sore, of those huge hands making me feel beautiful and small… making me feel like… her. The other me, the me that didn’t really exist, that was pure fantasy in my mind. Just like him.
“Miss Wilson?” The warden tilted her head down and studied me more closely, something I definitely did not need at the moment, not while my bare bottom was sliding all over the chair, wet with my own arousal.
“I’m fine.” I tried to lift my hands, to adjust the hospital gown where it had inched up just past mid-thigh, but the cuffs stopped me cold. Damn.
“Are you sure? The matching process can be… intense.”
So, was that what they were calling mind-numbing orgasms these days? Intense? Hell, yes, that had been intense. I’d like more then, please.
She looked sympathetic, and I found I wanted to tell her everything. Hell, I wanted to ask her the one burning question I’d been too afraid to ask. But I couldn’t find the courage. I was terrified of the answer. Instead, I pasted a smile on my lips. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“Excellent.” She smiled and nodded, apparently convinced by my halfhearted attempt at a smile of my own that I wasn’t about to go into shock or have a mental breakdown. Obviously, she’d never had to wait tables for a busy dinner shift with puking kids and drunken idiots surrounding her in equal numbers. I could handle a whole lot more stress than this. And orgasm stress? Yeah, that wasn’t stress at all. It was… overwhelming.
I tried to relax, leaned back into the chair and focused on counting as I pulled air into my lungs. Four in, four out. That’s how I did things.
The room was pale and white, clinical, and I felt like I was in an emergency room, not a bride processing center, but when you were about to commit to life as an alien’s bride, I guess they did things a bit differently.
Her fingers moved over a small tablet too fast for me to track, and frankly, I didn’t care what she was doing, as long as the stupid matching thing worked. Which, I realized, I had no idea if it had.
“Did it work? Do I have a match?” I swear my heart stopped beating as I waited for her answer.
“Oh, yes. Of course you do.”
I shuddered, my sigh loud, even to my own ears, and she lifted a hand to my shoulder in a sympathetic gesture. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were worried about that. You’ve been matched to Atlan.”
I didn’t know a thing about Atlan, but that didn’t stop hope spreading in my chest like wildfire. I’d been matched. Holy crap. “And this matching thing… you’re sure that the alien will want me to be his mate? You’re sure the matching works?”
“Absolutely.” She patted my shoulder one more time and returned her attention to the table.
“Even for girls like me?” Shit. My deepest fear slipped past my lips before I could stop it. I bit down and hoped nothing else slipped out.
That stopped her cold and she lifted her gaze to mine. “What do you mean, girls like you? Are you married? Because that was one question you were required to answer under oath. If you lied, I can’t process you.”
Married? As if.
I sighed. Jeeeez. Did I have to spell it out for her? With her size-eight body and C-cup breasts, she had probably never worried about being wanted. I studied her concerned gray eyes and decided that, yes, I did have to spell it out for her. Damn it. I took a deep breath and gathered my courage, spitting out the words as fast as I could. “Girls like me. Big girls.”
She raised her brows, as if surprised, her gaze raking up and down my very plus-sized body in a quick survey before returning her attention to my face. Her grin was one of the best things I’d ever seen. “Don’t worry about being too small for an Atlan, dear. I know that to an Atlan warlord, you’ll seem a bit undersized, but you’re his matched mate. You’ll be perfect for each other.”
“Too small?” Was she freaking kidding me? I hadn’t been able to shop off the rack since tenth grade.