1
Rowan Cochrane, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Miami, Florida
Even with a blindfoldover my eyes, I recognized the touch of the man whose cock filled me, made me moan with pleasure. I didn’t need my sight to know this male was mine. My primary male. The perfect match for me. I would recognize his touch, his scent, the deep timbre of his voice, anywhere. I craved the roughness of his strong hands, the smooth texture of his copper colored hair beneath my fingertips, and the relentless demands of his thick cock as it plunged deep. Filled me. Fucked me. Made mehis.
His masculine scent enveloped me as I pressed my face to his chest. The heat of his massive body radiated into mine, keeping me warm despite the fact I was naked and exposed, eager for what was about to happen, my final, official claiming.
“Harder.” I whispered the command so only my mates would hear the wanton, wicked demand. I didn’t try to hold back or hide what I needed. They knew. The psychic link created by ourmating collars ensured both of my mates knew exactly what I was feeling. Wanting. Needing from them.
More.
I leaned forward and licked his chest. The flavor of his skin, both unique and addictive, clung to my lips as I tasted the damp skin just below his collarbone. My senses were on fire, every touch and sound amplified by the blindfold that stole my vision. Each breath I took drew in more of his earthy fragrance, mingled with the hint of scented oil and sex that clung to the air around us.
“Mate.” The whisper of his breath against my ear sent shivers along every nerve in my body. Goosebumps raced across my skin, and they weren’t from the cool draft in the room that grazed my exposed back.
I could hear the movement of the others, the males who stood around the edges of the room. The low murmur of voices, male voices, deep and resonant, pulsed through me like beats of a drum, their words lost to me but the tone unmistakable. It was a chant, slow and rhythmic, adding to the primal energy in the air. Somehow, I knew they were here to witness the claiming, that every male witness had been selected. Invited. That by being here they each accepted the honor of pledging to protect me, protect us. Our family. They were like the best men at a wedding but with a deadly and serious purpose. Anyone who fucked with me would not just face the wrath of my two mates, but of all these chanting warriors.
So many. So much power. So much strength. All for me.
This had to be a dream.
My mate reclined before me. Somehow, I knew he rested against a specialized seat used by these warriors when they wished to pleasure a mate. This position gave my second mate full access to my back and my ass even as I rode my first mate’s cock. From behind, my second’s hands roamed with a reverencethat made me shiver as my primary mate’s giant cock stretched my pussy open. The chanting rose in volume as he fucked me with primal urgency. He thrust deep, ignited my nerve endings until my clit literally burned with heat.
The sound of our bodies coming together—a wet, rhythmic slap—echoed in the dimly lit room, blending with our ragged breaths and groans. My mate’s strength was evident in the way he lifted me by my hips, his fingers digging possessively into my flesh, leaving the faintest of bruises. I didn’t care. The small pain made me feel alive and wild. Free. Primitive and possessed in a way I never had before.
I wrapped my fingers around his arms and squeezed so I could feel his muscles tense and flex as he settled my wet core over him. Lifted me. Shoved me back down again. Over and over. Instinct took over, my orgasm close. I wrapped my legs around him, clinging to his hips. He moved with forceful grace, his movements confident, almost feral, like a warrior in battle, strong and unyielding.
My second mate’s fingertips traced over my spine with a gentleness in blissful contrast to the stark need of the male who fucked me.
Arching my back, I leaned back into that second set of hands. Larger and gentler, the massive palms slid across my shoulders. His hot touch caused languid heat to flow through my veins. He caressed the collar around my neck, fingers grazing my throat just above the collar’s smooth edge. His emotions broke me, made me weak, pliant, submissive.
My second’s touch was equally familiar—gentle one moment, unbreakable and demanding the next—as if he knew precisely when to comfort and when to control. His hot breath raced against the nape of my neck; his scent distinct from my first mate’s—a sharp, woody fragrance with a hint of spice. Despite being claimed by both males, I sensed no jealousyor competition between them, only a deep understanding and shared desire. Our collars created a psychic bond filled with truth. Lying wasn’t possible. Not about what we wanted. Needed. Or who we loved.
Pure love flowed between us. Acceptance. Bliss. We were one.
Their emotions and physical desires lived inside my mind. No barriers. No pretense. Each pulse of arousal, each wave of longing resonated through my body like a shared heartbeat. Their needs burned inside me, a perfect match for my own as I tightened my inner muscles, squeezed the thick length inside me. With each savage movement, my first mate claimed me as his own, driven by a basic, carnal need to fill me with his seed, plant his child in my womb.
I wanted everything they could give me. Or rather,shedid. The woman whose body I somehow inhabited right now. I didn’t know a Prillon warrior with copper colored hair. I hadn’t had sex in over a year, with anyone, let alone two smoking hot, sexy aliens.
For a fleeting moment I remembered that I was at the Interstellar Brides’ processing center, being tested. I was supposed to be matched to the perfect alien mate based on the deepest, darkest needs of my mind and body, desires I would never dare speak aloud.
My—her—second mate waited patiently. His lips moved lower, leaving a trail of kisses down my back, the dampness of his mouth cool against my heated skin. His hand trailed over my ass, fingers brushing dangerously close to claiming it as well. He stopped, waiting for the perfect moment to stretch me, fuck me. Claim me. Waited for the male in front of me to speak the ritual words.
“Do you accept my claim, mate?”My primary male’s deep voice broke through the haze of ecstasy, sending a shiver down my spine. “Do you give yourself to me and my second freely, or do you wish to choose another primary mate?”
The question lingered, vibrated through the air, demanded a response. The finality of the decision pressed down on me. Prillon warriors did not do divorce. There were no second chances, no changing my mind. If I said yes, I was giving myself into their care for the rest of my life. Forever.
Wait. Notmylife.Herlife.
I felt like a voyeur as the woman whose mind I inhabited took less than a second to make her choice. She felt no shame. No doubt. No fear. I sank into her psyche, stopped trying to remember who I was and allowed myself to become her once more. To enjoy the moment. Not think. Screw thinking. Thinking sucked the joy out of everything. Time tofeel.
Did I accept their claim and give myself to them willingly? “Yes.” My voice trembled with an intoxicating mix of anticipation and surrender.
Their emotional reactions blasted through our collars in an instant. Obsession. Relief that I was finally and irrevocably theirs. Possessive. Protective. Aroused. Desperate to fuck me, fill me with seed.
My second mate’s touch grew bolder, more demanding as he worked two fingers inside my ass, making sure I would enjoy the claiming, that I was ready to be filled by them both.
I moaned, unable to escape the firestorm of lust blasting me from my two mates through the mating collar around my neck. Our psychic link was strong, their devotion and desire driving me to a mindless state. I couldn’t process this. It was too much for my body to contain. I needed to feel them filling me up. Fucking me. Stretching me open. Making me theirs... “I need you both. Now.”
