Amy Redwood - My AlienThreesome

“He doesn’t know that the drink affects your body that severely,” Garrett said softly from somewhere behind my back. “Come to me, Chiara . I’ll take care that no one takes advantage of you.”

I’d heard everything he’d said, but there was one word that gnawed at my brain. Chiara . I pressed my eyes shut but couldn’t shut out the memories. He’d called me that name before, whispered it lovingly in my ear, and just like then, my flesh pebbled in response and my insides turned to a tight ball.

And to my absolute horror, tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I swallowed the hurt, the tightness in my throat. I’d stripped everything for him—my clothes, my pride, my soul. And I couldn’t undo the night we’d spent together, I couldn’t.

I heard Garrett talking, but not to me and not in a language I understood. I made myself look at him, saw him standing next to Slyte, a smidge shorter than the towering Dezrian, and Garrett’s hand rested on his shoulder as if they were best friends.

“You speak Dezrian ?” I asked, surprise coloring my words.

Garrett ignored my outburst, but both males turned to me, their gazes running over me from my feet up to the roots of my hair. I feared both knew how damp my panties were, how sweaty my thighs. Slyte’s forehead was creased with lines. They looked at me as if they expected me to sprout wings any second.

There was a hard beat, a pulse within me. As if I’d swallowed a greasy engine that roared its way through my bloodstream. And when I gazed into Garrett’s eyes, he fueled that engine with nitro. Ignited it too.

Wrapping my arms around my middle, I shuddered, heat flaring up inside my chest. The hard, hot pulse kept thumping and thumping, as if my heart were growing bigger, stronger. Inside me, a feeling like an implosion tore me apart. I yelled out, more in panic than pain—even though it did hurt. My legs gave way from under me.

When I moved experimentally— why was I lying on the floor? —my thighs rubbed together, creating bliss. I held my breath, but the pain remained gone. In its wake, a searing need for release was pooling between my legs. My skin tingled and I itched with the desire to be touched.

I arched up, heard myself begging, pleading for sex. When someone stroked my cheek, the touch raced up my spine. The soft contact had to be the best foreplay I’d ever received.

And then I was hauled up, and if I wasn’t mistaken, thrown over a shoulder. To keep me there, a large hand settled on my ass. The sensual overload made me cry out. Unbidden, images sprang up in my mind. Images of giving and taking, lips parting, muscles flexing, of flesh against flesh, and the taste of skin, the spurt of semen on my tongue.

Someone was carrying me—Slyte?—and the rocking motion was nothing less than cruelty. With each step, my breasts beneath my dress brushed against a muscled back. Why couldn’t he take off my dress and soothe my tender nipples with a kiss and a lick? And there was still his hand on my ass, all five fingers giving me a slight squeeze. I stifled a groan and my mind jumped to an image of a cock thrusting deep into my pussy. I came hard, my orgasm so intense a flash of brilliant white lit up behind my eyelids before my world went black.

I woke to the feeling of fingers moving between my legs. Keeping my eyes shut, I became aware of three things simultaneously. Slyte had taken the hint and gotten me somewhere private—the quiet told me I was alone with him. I was lying on top of a bed, the softness of a mattress and sheets beneath my butt a dead giveaway. And I wasn’t wearing my dress anymore.

A sigh escaped me at the pleasure of being naked, even if Slyte’s gentle touch was more torture than relief. His fingers were cool and slippery, as if he were using some kind of massage oil that had a cooling effect. He massaged my inner thigh, occasionally brushing against my pussy with the edge of his hand. I moved my hips with the rhythm of his touch, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy my need.

As if sensing my frustration, he touched my clit with the rough pad of his finger, sending more than just a sliver of awareness through my center. Another firework of stars erupted behind my closed eyes. I bucked against his hand and climaxed helplessly in short, violent bursts.

I felt greedy and ungrateful because the climax left me wanting. I moved my hips but found nothing to grind against. Trying to reach with my hand between my legs to pleasure myself, I bit back a cry of surprise.

Slyte had tied me spread eagle to the bed.

I’d been too distracted with getting off that this tiny detail had escaped me. How stupid could I be? How crazed and out of my mind for sex that I hadn’t noticed someone tying me up? Mumbling a curse, I craned my neck. The room was dimly lit, but I saw enough to know that I’d never get the ropes off myself. But how was I to touch myself? I needed to slip my fingers inside my pussy. It would feel so good.

“Slyte,” I said, “you’d better untie me this second.”

“We thought it better to protect you from yourself.” Garrett’s face entered my vision, an unseen light source creating shadows and odd angles on his face.

I stared up at him, struggling to find an appropriate reply. “Tell me it wasn’t your hand between my legs.”

“Not my hand.” His expression was one of concern, amusement and lust. “I thought you might disapprove. I was only watching.”

Only watching—dirtier words were never spoken. Lifting my head, I spotted Slyte at the end of the bed, his shirt off to reveal a broad, smooth chest. His coppery skin looked absolutely lickable. As our eyes locked, he wrapped his hand around my foot, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I couldn’t fail to notice that his fingers were wet from my juices. Or, I hastily adjusted my mental image, from the massage oil.

Drawing in a shaky breath, I tried to gather my wits. It shouldn’t be that hard, keeping a straight thought, but it was. Hard to hold on to a thought that didn’t involve some form of sexual activity. I was naked, tied to a bedframe and there were two gorgeous males at my side… Garrett was talking to me, pulling me out of my red-hot thoughts of them touching and kissing me all over.

“Judging from the frown on your forehead,” Garrett said, “I gather you’re trying to figure out what happened.”

“The drink…” I said, my mind hazy, my hips rotating in small circles as if they had a will of their own. Damn, I wanted nothing more than a good, no-nonsense fuck, why was I talking about a drink? My gaze fixed on Slyte at the end of the bed.

Why was he half-naked? I wanted to see him stripped of all clothes, wanted his cock down my throat, wanted to feel him buried deep within me. I let out a series of curses as I noticed that my thoughts had drifted to red-hot again. “Where am I?”

“Well, you’re in Slyte’s bed, as you’d wanted to be.”

“Tell him to make me come again.”

“No.”

“You do it. Fuck me.” I almost choked on my words. Had I said that out loud? Was I insane? Then I remembered the drink’s alien effect on my body and relaxed. Yes, I wasn’t sane, so I shouldn’t be too hard on myself.

“Tempting, sweetheart. But I think we should wait—”

“Forget it,” I said quickly. “Take off the restraints.” My clit was begging to be touched, and if both men wouldn’t take care of me, I would make myself come until I was soothed and fully sated.

Then it hit me.

Garrett was in the same room with me. And I was naked, bound and so desperate for sex I was panting. My first reflex was to cover myself, my second to pull him close. Both reflexes were rendered useless by a couple inches of rope.