into me that had me coming on a blissful scream. I was so full, so open. Exposed. Vulnerable and yet powerful all at once.
It was too much, the pleasure. I was truly imprisoned, caught not only by the bonds over my head, but the cocks that joined us. We were one.
When I felt their hot seed spurt from them, I screamed again, then again.
“Miss Pierce!” The voice repeated itself and a hand shook my shoulder. “Stop screaming, please.”
I was thrashing, felt the way my hands were bound, knew it was real.
“Rachel!”
No, it wasn’t real. The voice shouting at me was a woman, not the deep rumble of either man.
I blinked, once, then again. Bright light filtered through the seams of my closed eyelids, turning my vision a deep, dark red until, unable to deny the annoying woman’s voice, or the too small hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes.
Fuck. There were no men. No hands, mouths, cocks. There had definitely been an orgasm though. I was sweaty and I could feel the heat of it, the pleasure still coursing through my body. My pussy rippled and pulsed around…nothing. My bottom clenched. Empty. The wet result of my arousal made my bottom slip and slide on a strange exam chair. It was like I’d been tied down, naked, at the dentist’s office.
My hands were bound, but not by the men’s cuffs and I wasn’t in a soft bed. No. I was restrained to the testing chair in the Interstellar Brides Processing Center. The men were nothing more than a dream, a figment of my sex-starved imagination. I hadn’t been with a man in a long damn time. Over a year.
Apparently, my body had gone from zero to orgasm in about five seconds flat. But it had been so good, so hot and hard and…
“Miss Pierce. I need you to look at me.” There was that annoying female voice practically barking orders at me. I didn’t care for her tone. Not one bit.
I focused on the face swimming before me and waited for my vision to clear. When it did, I found a somewhat unpleasant young woman’s face looming over me. I remembered her now. Unfortunately, I remembered everything. “Warden Egara.”
“Good. You’re awake.”
“You wanted me tested and now you’re taking the dream away from me?” It had been a dream. Since when had reality included two hot, virile lovers who fucked me at the same time? When had I ever had an orgasm that strong? That intense? When had I ever been so desperate to be touched that just thinking about it had nearly made me scream?
Never. Smoking-hot, dominant lovers were not part of my reality.
My reality included prison. Harsh lighting. Bad food. Stale air. Several hundred women who looked at me like I was fresh meat. Loneliness. Betrayal.
“Yes, Miss Pierce. I’m terribly sorry. I don’t normally stop the testing so abruptly, but I have to admit, I was a little nervous about your screaming.”
I couldn’t help but flush. “Let’s just say the dream was very… vivid.”
She looked down at her tablet, apparently having decided that I was not dying in her testing chair. She went around the generic table and sat down. The room was clinical, stark. I’d think I was in an office conference room if not for the fancy testing chair I sat in. No, that I was tied to like a mental patient. The restraints around my wrists were at least four inches wide and an inch thick. I wasn’t sure what kind of superhuman women they normally strapped down, but the only way any normal girl would get out of these was with a hacksaw.
I looked down at myself, oddly pleased to see that I wore the bland, gray testing gown instead of the orange prison pants and white t-shirt that had made up my wardrobe for the last few months. I was naked beneath, and bare from the knees down. Medical gowns, it seemed, were standard-level ugly no matter what planet they were from. And I wasn’t a fan of my bare ass sticking to the chair. Where was the standard-issue granny panties and sports bra?
“The testing was successful, a match was made at a ninety-nine percent.” Her smile transformed her face, and I realized that she wasn’t that old, probably even a few years younger than me. Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun, a style that reminded me of Wild West school marms in the old movies. Her gray eyes held a keen intelligence I could respect, but her words alarmed me. I was here at my attorney’s insistence. But I’d never really believed in this whole matching process. I mean, really? How the hell could some alien computer select a man who would be perfect for me? I didn’t believe it. But that didn’t stop the little kernel of hope from bursting to life with a painful buzz in my chest.
I frowned to hide the reaction. This was not how things were supposed to go. “I’ve been matched?”
“Yes, to a Prillon warrior.”
“A Prillon?” I knew nothing about the other planets in the Coalition. I’d had my nose in a petri dish and my eyes on the lens of a microscope for the last decade. “I told you I didn’t want it. A match. This. I don’t want to go off to some…some planet.” I spit out the last as if it were foul on my tongue. “I told you. I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be in jail. I’ve done nothing wrong, except expose the truth. I’m not going to leave Earth because someone else broke the law.”
The warden looked at me with sympathetic gray eyes. “Yes, I’ve heard of your case, heard your claims of innocence. From a process standpoint, the testing doesn’t change that you’ve been convicted of a crime. It doesn’t change that you are going to be in jail for the next twenty-five years.”
“I filed an appeal.”
“Yes, your attorney informed me and I wish you the best of luck.” Her gray eyes softened and I found my anger fading beneath the onslaught of pity I saw there. “I’m sorry, Rachel. But your innocence or guilt is irrelevant to me. And believe me, your new mate won’t care. You’re here. You were convicted. They must have had evidence.”
“It was planted,” I countered.
All hints of the orgasm had faded, replaced by the same anger, frustration and bitterness that had followed me for the past five months. When the Whistleblower law went into effect, it hadn’t included me. No. I’d been quickly taken away, falsely pinned with crimes I didn’t commit by people who committed far worse just to hide their own.
Yes, I’d been the lead researcher at GloboPharma. The trials had been under my supervision. But I’d pulled the plug when things went wrong. I’d followed the FDA guidelines to the letter. The data in my reports was truthful and accurate. Yes, I’d known that the company had hundreds of millions of dollars on the line, looking for a cancer cure. And the treatment worked, it just killed too many healthy cells in the process.
I’d filed my reports and expected my superiors to do the right thing.
The day I heard that the FDA approved the drug, I’d nearly puked up my hot mustard and salami sandwich at my desk. I’d called the president of the company personally, and when she wouldn’t listen, I called the CEO.
They all ignored me, and sent some goons to wreck my house and shut me up. They’d fired me, discredited me, and, little did I know, kept my data and lined me up to take the fall if things went bad.
And things went really, really bad. At least four hundred people died before the FDA figured out it was
