“Are you ready for me?”
No.
“Yes.” I—she—responded, even wiggling my hips to take the tip of his cock inside.
It was his turn to groan as I used the hands I had tangled in his hair to pull him closer, rolling my hips in a small circle, taking him deeper, inch by inch.
His huge cock slid in easily, some type of tingling lube already inside my ass. With a pop he slid deep, both of us groaning. This body welcomed the sensation, knew it well. Expected more. Wanted more. Needed it.
My pussy fluttered and throbbed, empty.
The male in front of me sucked first one nipple, then the other into his mouth as my body clamped down on the hard cock filling me from behind. He suckled, rolled my nipples on his tongue. He tormented me with pleasure until even the voices faded and there was nothing but them. My mates.
Moving his way from breast to stomach, my primary male kissed me everywhere, his touch hot and lingering, taking his time as both my second and I waited, the anticipation growing until I felt like I was going to explode if he didn’t fuck me soon. Fill my pussy with his hard cock. Pound into me with a relentless rhythm I needed.
Somehow I knew he was delaying, pushing me, making me wait. They were both in my mind, their emotions, their desire for me without limits.
I was everything to my mates. Life and death and even their air. They worshipped me, cherished me.
I felt love, hot and painful and unfamiliar, pour into my soul like molten lava, leaving a path of agony and bliss all in one.
Tears leaked from my eyes—her eyes? I didn’t know who was crying, but my mate’s kiss gentled and he slipped a finger into my wet heat. “Are you ready for me, mate? Ready to be ours forever?”
“Please.” This time when the female voice answered, I was in complete agreement. I wanted to scream, Fuck me! Do it! Take me. I need to belong to someone…
He worked me, fucking me with first one finger, then two. Three. When I was riding the razor’s edge of release, he moved to kneel between my legs, still spread wide on my second mate’s open lap.
He pushed his cock in slowly, the stretch forcing a keening wail from me—her—as he finally, finally filled me with his hard length, stretched me—her—to the limit with one mate buried balls-deep in my pussy, the other in my ass.
He pulled back once. Twice. Pushed deeper. Harder. Faster.
My second gasped at the friction, the pressure of my primary mate’s cock rubbing my pussy walls, the thin barrier between them.
Their combined sensations, their pleasure poured into my mind. My body exploded, the orgasm ripping through me like a stick of dynamite had been lit inside my pussy, my entire body arching, reaching, needing…
“Miss Gray? Miss Gray? Can you hear me?”
Nooooo!
The chanting faded, the heat of my mates’ touch, their scent. The emotions left as well, the fire of belonging that had burned so brightly completely gone, the aching pain of loving someone so much dissipated like fog under the brightness of day. Somehow the absence left me feeling even more alone, colder than I’d been before.
Now I knew what could be, what other people had, and I wished I had remained ignorant. I was used to the cold reality of my life. But my—no, her—mates had woken up a part of me I’d killed off long ago. The needy part. The weak part.
“Miss Gray? Please, nod if you can hear me.”
The vision, or dream, faded completely, and I realized I was sitting in a not-so-soft chair, kind of like the one in the dentist’s office, or maybe a rock-hard leather recliner. The amount of air I felt on my legs and feet reminded me that I wore something similar to a hospital gown.
The Interstellar Brides testing facility. Right. I was in Miami, Florida. Almost fifteen hundred miles from the small town in upstate New York that had once been my home.
‘Health, History and Horses.’ That was our small-town motto. Pathetic.
I never wanted to go back.
“Miss Gray?”
Reality refused to wait. I opened my eyes, irritated that my body still felt heavy and needy, my pussy wet, my nipples hard points beneath the gown. This sucked.
“I’m here.” I tried to lift a hand to brush the hair out of my eye and was brought up short by the handcuff locking me to the processing chair.