Page 49 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

I have to make a choice:

I could let them take me willingly – getting on my hands and knees and crawling submissively to them. Alternatively, I could resist – to try futilely to fight the enormous warriors off, and then have my bottom turned red before I’m taken just as hard and deeply as I would have been otherwise.

And the worst part? The most shameful, humiliating truth about all this?

Both options turn me on so wildly, I can feel wetness glistening between my thighs.

Then, all thoughts cease. I’ve waited too long – and what little choice I had is robbed from me.

I gasp as I suddenly see the huge bulk of one of the warriors standing right behind me. I didn’t even hear the bedroom door open – much less the sound of his cat-like footsteps.

I whip around, eyes wide, and find the Aurelian looming over me – staring down at me with the cold, imperious intensity of a snow-capped mountain. His skin is even the same color as that snow – with the warrior’s full lips and finely chiseled features contrasting against the masculine strength of his straight, broad jaw.

The warrior’s eyes are hard and cold as he surveys me.

His property.

As I meet the warrior’s gaze, I realize this one isn’t just arrogant – he’s cocky.

Yes – cocky. Arrogant, full of himself, and his disdainful attitude resonates from him as clearly as a radio signal. It’s in the way he stands – the way hebreathes.

In the warrior’s right hand is a bright, yellow honey-fruit – that succulent, mouthwatering delicacy that only grows on Deemak. I heard that somewhere – perhaps in some bar I’d gone to with Ling, looking for our next lead. It’s a tidbit of information I must have lodged somewhere in the back of my mind.

“I knew you’d put it on.”

The Aurelian’s voice is like aural whiskey – strong, and smoky, and smooth. That damned black t-shirt he wears is stretched across his enormous muscles and I can’t keep my eyes from following the clearly defined musculature that is barely hidden beneath.

The fabric binds to his muscles just as effectively as the pleasure dress clings to my own body – but I’m the one teased and tormented by it. Lust swells inside of me, and it’s amplified by the tingling, squirming fabric I wear.

The pleasure dress contorts agonizingly to my body. Even the tiniest movement I make – a single squirm or wriggle – shifts the fabric against my skin and forces the material to flow tightly against my skin and mold itself to me anew.

My nipples are now painfully hard – standing out clearly beneath the sheer fabric. This Aurelian no longer needs to sniff the air to taste my scent. He knows the effect he’s having on me. In this oppressive warmth, there’d be no other reason for the peaks of my nipples to be straining like the hard, little nubs of a pencil eraser.

We stand there, eye to eye. I shiver, knowing that with just one hand, this towering warrior could snap me like a twig. Or, more likely, he could press me back against the mirror and crush his thick, sensuous lips against mine – until my overstimulated body caved in to his dominance, and I could no longer pretend that I didn’t want to be taken as clearly as he wants to take me.

But the old me stirs, and I repeated his statement in my head.

“I knew you’d put it on.”

My hands ball into fits.

“Because I don’t have any other bloody thing to wear, do I?” I snap defiantly. “You made me throw out the rest of my clothes!”

I’m satisfied with how annoyed I sound – but at the same time, my stomach flutters like the wings of a dove. I should cross my arms to cover my straining nipples, but the old me is at the controls of my tingling body – and suddenly I’m tired of being scared and submissive.

I place my hands on my hips and stare the Aurelian down – and, believe me, it’s not easy to stare down a seven-feet-tall, dominant alien warrior.

This Aurelian is beyond perfect. His skin is the purest, marble white. His complexion makes mine look dark and tanned – even after I’d spent months without the touch of a sun upon it.

As I stand there, I hear the warrior’s breath catch in his throat.

He says nothing, though. Instead, he steps forward – and suddenly, the room feels so much smaller.

I feel even more naked and exposed than I had when I was in the shower. A thousand little kisses are constantly teasing my nipples and my clit – anywhere the fabric clings to…

…and, believe me, it clings toeverything.

It’s a subtle, sadistic, delicious sensation – magnifying every dark desire I have for this Aurelian to throw me down onto the bed and make me his, just like the auction was supposed to.

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