Page 59 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

I shudder, pushing the vivid image out of my mind. I’d been so tired, I didn’t feel him applying the salve to my head – and I wonder what else I might have missed while I’d been asleep.

Bloody wonderful!

So, I had a towering, lustful Aurelian warrior creeping into my room and secretly watching me while I slept. When I awoke, those same, big eyes were staring at me. He must have stayed up the entire night.

Then again, when you’re on a ship filled with Toads and Bullfrogs, maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to have an Aurelian sentinel standing guard over me.

Then, I check myself.

Stop making excuses for these men! They bought you at a slave-auction. They’re testosterone-fueled animals, just like all Aurelians!

I purposefully turn away from Marcel and address his battle-brother, instead – the one whose name I still don’t know.

“What’syourname?” I stare defiantly into the warrior’s haunted eyes. It feels weird thinking of him asAurelian Number 3.

“That’s Quint,” Lucius answers for him.

Lucius.

Damnable Lucius!

Turning to him, all I see is a towering, full-lipped reminder of my personal failure.

Lucius lounges on the enormous couch, as if he owns the entire ship. He’s wearing a freshly-laundered, light grey t-shirt that still seems obscenely dark compared to his marble-white muscles. His dark grey shorts – clearly not the same ones he’d soaked with pre-cum the night before – are an even starker contrast against his alabaster skin.

I gulp as I see the outline of Lucius’s cock is stillveryfucking noticeable inside those shorts, and I snap my eyes up sharply before he notices me looking.

As nonchalant as Lucius looks, I also notice he’s got the hilt of his Orb-Blade hanging from his waist – as if he’s expecting sudden violence in this room.

I feel goosebumps ripple across my skin. I remember how it felt to be pressed up against him – so breathless and small, feeling Lucius’s hunger as he threatened to devour me.

He’d nearly descended fully into the mating frenzy – even though he had one advantage over me. At least Lucius’s clothes aren’t designed to constantly tease and stimulate his body.

As if activated by my thoughts, I suddenly feel the tiny little feathers of the pleasure dress squirming more teasingly against my skin. It’s as if the dress can sense that I was ogling the cocky bastard and decided to ramp up my desire.

Dammit! It was difficult enough without this dress. I’ve already nearly let my attraction to Lucius override every sense I had. Now, he’s looking over at me like a dog salivating over a juicy steak…

He’s a wild animal – theyallare…

…but I’m the only one who’s been leashed here.

I swallow, forcing my thoughts away from the Aurelians. It’s hard to – especially when you’re surrounded by three looming, perfect specimens of alien masculinity. You don’t often see men with hewn jaws and strong, manly faces – and you most certainly don’t see them towering over seven-feet in height, with pure white skin as chiseled as marble.

As I struggle to ignore them, Marcel shrugs himself off the wall and strides to the kitchen – where he opens a cooler and pulls out a huge flank of bloody, uncooked meat.

“Breakfast?” He lifts the hunk of meat, and the absurdity of it cuts the tension in the room.

Truth be told, I’m currently hungry enough to eat whatever is thrown in front of me - practically without question. My stomach growls when I see the meat, and my only reservation is not wanting to think about what animal the juicy flank had originally come from.

I finally meet Marcel’s gaze again, and nod. He snorts in response, throwing the flank across a huge frying surface which instantly hisses and sizzles as the broiling steel sears the bloody flesh.

The scent of cooking meat fills the air, and my mouth waters. Truth be told, I’m actually surprised a warrior like Marcel cooks. I’d have expected the Aurelians to use the ship’s replicators – which do an acceptable job in recreating organic materials from base proteins. It’s especially effective for simple stuff like gruel – my staple diet throughout my journey aboard the Elnor.

Of course, replicators are very far from perfect. Aside from the tinny, artificial taste, sometimes the replicating process misses chunks entirely – and you’ll get a mouthful of liquid protein chains that leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

I haven’t hadrealmeat in months – and my stomach growls at the mere memory of it. The smell of the meat fills the room as the broiling flesh hisses and sizzles against the pan.

No veggies, I notice. Typical of testosterone-fueled warriors. These guys need to start eating right!

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