That is not your choice to make, Captain.” The commander’s voice was hard now, all levity gone at my response to what any Prillon warrior would accept with great joy. “You have been tested and assigned a matched mate. Your bride will have thirty days to accept or reject you. The choice is out of your hands. Your mate has all the power now, Mills. I suggest you get back to the Karter and have your head examined. Dock 3.”
“Yes, sir.” Dorian responded half a second before the line went dead. He turned to Trinity. “Can you take us in?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do it.” He stood and grabbed me by the arm and tugged me out of the cockpit area. “Mills, come with me.”
Chapter 2
Chloe Phan, Interstellar Bride Processing Center, Miami
* * *
Lips roamed over my belly. My bare belly. A soft brushing and then a flick of the tongue. Heat swamped my senses and I felt the rough shock of whiskers as he turned his head, his breath fanning across my sweaty skin.
My fingers were tangled in his hair. When had I done that? I didn’t remember sliding them through the silky strands. Tugging. Then again, I didn’t remember a guy being on his knees before me, learning my taste, my feel.
“I can smell your desire.”
My scent. Holy shit, his hands cupped my bare bottom and pulled me in so his mouth could go…there.
“Oh!” I cried. My vocabulary was gone. Why? Because he had a very skilled tongue.
“Step nice and wide for me, mate. I want access to this pussy of mine.”
The growl was rough. Deep. Etched with sharp arousal.
Unlike guys I’d been with in the past who hadn’t found my clit with a headlamp and a compass, he found it with laser precision, flicking over the swollen flesh ever so lightly. Just the slightest slide on the left, across the top and back and my head fell back in surrender.
I was wet. Eager. Empty.
Maybe he was a mind reader as well as a pussy-whisperer because a hand slid up the inside of my thigh and unerringly found my center, circled my entrance then slid two fingers inside.
“You’re so tight,” he growled.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulled him back into place. “Don’t stop.”
Yeah, that was me. Begging.
I felt him smile against my most sensitive flesh.
“She likes this.”
I did. I liked it a whole heck of a lot, but I wasn’t sure why he was speaking to me in third-person.
“I can see that.”
A voice came from just over my shoulder as hands came around to cup my breasts. Hands not belonging to the guy eating me out. I knew this because his hands were still on my butt.
These new hands were big, tanned, with a smattering of dark hair on the backs. I could feel a hint of callouses on the palms as they lifted and learned the weight of my breasts.
“Yes.” I arched my back. I’d never been with two guys before, but this felt right. Somehow, I knew they were mine. And not just one hot night after hitting the bar kind of mine. But mine. As in forever.
The thought made me cry out and I heard their soft laughter.
“Yes, mate?” The man’s voice was at my ear. Gentle, but deep. Resonant with a hint of need and quite a bit of power. His hands mimicked that; his touch gentle, but the way his fingers were rolling and teasing my nipples, he liked control. Liked to dominate me, even with the slightest of motions.
And it worked. Yeah, my nipples were sensitive, always had been, but this guy knew exactly what he was doing.