Page 15 of Wrecked By My Alien Mentor

“Okay, Veritas command center, here we go,” I mutter under my breath, stepping closer. I flip the light switch, and the room illuminates.

But it’s not a high-tech command center.

My jaw drops.

The walls are lined with shelves, and every inch is filled with…well, let’s just say it’s not the kind of gear I was expecting. Leather whips, riding crops, ropes, restraints, and—is that a ball gag? I stare at the array of BDSM toys, my mind racing.

“Holy crap,” I whisper, stepping inside. The air smells faintly of leather and something earthy, like sandalwood. My initial shock begins to fade, replaced by a growing curiosity.

I reach out, my fingers brushing against a sleek black riding crop. It’s lighter than it looks, the leather supple and smooth. I tap it against my palm, the sensation sending a shiver up my spine.

“Does…does Orion want to use all this stuff on me?” I wonder aloud. The thought should probably terrify me, but instead, I feel a weird mix of excitement and intrigue.

I pick up a pair of leather cuffs, turning them over in my hands. The buckles are solid, the craftsmanship impeccable. “Well, someone’s got expensive taste,” I mutter, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Next, I grab a ball gag from a hook on the wall. It’s made of soft silicone, with small holes for breathing, and the straps are lined with velvet. I hold it up, cocking my head as I examine it.

“Restricted speech and a sense of helplessness, huh?” I say to myself, my voice wry. “Yeah, that tracks with the whole ‘Yes, Sir’ thing.”

I set it back on the hook and move deeper into the room. There’s a chest against the far wall, and I kneel to open it. Inside, I find more ropes, neatly coiled, and a few items I can’t quite identify. My cheeks flush as I pull out a leather harness, its straps intricate and purposeful.

“Okay, Orion’s definitely been holding out on me,” I say, shaking my head. I’m not repulsed—far from it. The more I explore, the more my curiosity grows. The possibilities are endless, and yeah, maybe a little intimidating, but also…exciting.

I creep out of the hidden room, my bare feet silent on the polished wood floor. Orion’s voice drifts up from the lower deck, sharp and commanding, but I can’t make out the words. He’s still on the call with Pyke.

My heart races as I slip back into the hidden room. I tell myself to close the door, to pretend I never saw anything, but my hands betray me. I reach for the ball gag again, the smooth silicone cool against my skin.

I slide it into my mouth, the straps brushing my cheeks as I pull them tight. The sensation sends a shiver down my spine. I imagine it’s Orion’s hands instead of my own, his fingers brushing my neck as he fastens the buckle. I lean back against the wall, my breath quickening as I slide my hand under my dress.

The soft hum of the vibrating egg intensifies as I press it against my clit, my legs trembling. I moan softly into the gag, the sound muffled and desperate. I’m so close, but it’s not enough. I need more. I needhim.

I strip out of my dress, the fabric pooling at my feet. The cool air brushes my skin as I pick up the Reaper’s Lingerie. The leather collar is smooth against my fingers as I fasten it around my neck. The strap trails down my back, and I fumble with the cuffs, my breath hitching as I lock them around my wrists.

I didn’t mean to pull them so tight. My heart skips a beat when I realize I can’t get them off. My arms are pinned behind my back, the straps digging into my skin. I’m trapped, and it’s equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

“Cora!” Orion’s voice echoes through the riverboat, sharp and commanding. “I’ve concluded my report. Where have you gotten off to?”

Oh, fuck.

The vibrating egg hums louder, and I bite down on the gag to stifle a moan.

My breath hitches as I press myself deeper behind the thick velvet curtain, the fabric brushing against my bare skin. The cool air of the riverboat’s living room makes my nipples pebble, and I bite down harder on the ball gag to stifle a moan. The egg is still buzzing relentlessly between my legs, and I twist my wrists in the Reaper’s Lingerie, testing the bonds. No luck. Whoever designed this thing knew what they were doing.

“Cora?” Orion’s voice echoes through the corridors, low and smooth, like he’s savoring this. “I don’t know what game we’re playing, but I like it.”

I freeze, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it. The curtain sways slightly, brushing against my body, and I clench my thighs together to suppress the ache building inside me. My dress and underwear are still in that room—hisroom—and I’m stark naked except for the collar, the cuffs, and the damn gag.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. He’s coming this way.

“You left the door open,” he continues, his voice closer now. “I have to admit, I’m curious. What exactly were you doing in there?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to disappear. The curtain feels like my last line of defense, and I press my back against the wall, hoping the fabric doesn’t betray me.

“You know,” he muses, his tone conversational, “most people would think twice before snooping around a Vakutan’s private collection. But you? You’re not most people.”

I hear the creak of the floorboards as he steps into the room. My pulse thunders in my ears, and I hold my breath, my fingers twitching behind my back.

“I could smell it as soon as I walked in,” he says, his voice dropping to a growl. “Your scent. All over my things.”

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