Clair of Earth: Brintex Centurions Book One (2 page)

“I am not an Earth male,” he informed her in soft, resolute tones. “This…” His finger gently pressed in. Not enough pressure to give her the release she craved now, just enough to emphasize his point. “Is no small matter to a Brintex Centurion. Not knowing you took what was mine excuses you but does not free you from the debt. Were we on Brintex, you would be my possession until such time as the debt is paid, little Clair of Earth. In light of cultural misunderstanding I will only require your submission for one Earth day to discharge the debt.”

“Submission?” Clair blinked as she heard the idiotic word fall out of her mouth as if she were in any doubt what submission the male with his finger buried in her body required.

He ignored her breathy little question. “See that you are prepared. Have no doubt I will know if you increase the debt and take release between now and then. Use the next twenty-four hours as instructed.”

Abruptly she was released and the large Centurion rolled off her and the bed to stand beside it. Instinctively Clair straightened her legs, pressing them together while her hands shot down to cover her breasts as if to hide them.

Heavy-lidded dark eyes moved up and down her body. He didn’t smile, of course he seldom did that anyway, but the intense seriousness of his expression dominated in a new way as he regarded her. “Do not disappoint me. The debt becomes Earth’s responsibility if you refuse to pay it.”

That ominous statement hung in the air. He pressed the com on his wrist cuff and was gone.

Clair remained staring at the spot he had been for a long time. Her mind whirled through the last twenty minutes in an endless circle. Jerkily, she moved up to sit on the side of the bed. Leaning over, head close to her knees, she breathed deeply to stop the spinning and work through the event.

Logic was required here and she really wished it came naturally for her. It didn’t, so making lists was her coping method. The facts were, Trel had heard her come and scream his name. The really good news was, he wanted her right back. That wasn’t a yard stick in his pants as he pinned her to the bed. Oh boy howdy. That thing was not small or shy.

Next fact was, she had never been as sexually excited in her life as she had been while restrained and handled by Trel, alien, first-contact male. The guy who was Earth’s hope for entrance into the interstellar society they knew so little about but desperately wanted to learn from.

So considering that, what would happen if she weren’t here in twenty-four hours? Would he take his “debt” and find another way for Earth to repay it? Gezz Louise, how messed up would that get? Just imaging the public discussion of his problem threatened to make her dizzy again. Naturally, Earth would offer a substitute woman but only after trying to force her into complying.

At that thought, Clair straightened. Her feet firmly planted on the floor, she glared at the wall opposite her. No. That was not happening. This was a private matter. No, this was a personal matter.

Okay then. That answered that. She didn’t want to get out of this, not even a little bit. Submitting to Trel was hers. All hers.

Yikes. Her emotions were a little more intense than she was ready to admit to, but wasn’t that exactly what he brought out in her? From the moment Trel landed a ship on the lawn at Space Center Houston and walked out of it with her husband beside him, everything had changed, for Earth as a whole, but more for Clair.

Everyone thought Chet had died on his deep-space mission. First contact in such a public way made aliens a fact no one could dispute. Chet became a global statesman in that instant. His connection to Trel made him Earth’s representative in the new reality of interstellar politics. A young, overwhelmed Clair became Earth’s first lady.

Two years ago at Chet’s unexpected death, Trel had pledged his lifelong protection to her and her family. Earth took that as a good thing, a way to keep the door to the future firmly open. She became Earth’s connection to the advanced alien society that seemed reluctant to let Earth join the interstellar community.

So no, she did not want to discuss her debt globally. Nor did she want to let someone else, and there would be a ton of volunteers to submit to the freaking-hot alien, fulfill her responsibilities. Nope. Not a chance in hell.

Chapter Two

Present day, Captain’s quarters, Wraith Class Ship XTX

11:40 p.m. Earth time

              Trel stalked around the desk to stand before her. His intention was to intimidate with his height, his difference from her comparatively tiny form. Intimidation on every level was required to reinforce the emotional protection his female needed. Towering over her, he allowed himself to touch her, his hand barley grasped her chin to turn up her face. She looked at his mouth, not meeting his eyes.

              “I will have you, Clair of Earth. You are now property of this Brintex Centurion. I will not harm you. If you need to stop, you will say the word
stop
. If I do not hear this word, your service will continue without interruption. If you use this word, we will cease all activity and you will explain to me what is troubling you. The only way we continue is if we both agree to do so. Do you understand this?” The formal statement in his language put them in perspective. Translators imbedded in the ship meant she understood him though he had not spoken English, a tongue he had no difficulty with but found somewhat lacking. Trel knew he needed the confirmation more than she did. Supplying her needs was a pleasure he had only experienced from a distance previously. Getting drunk on that pleasure wasn’t an option.

              Clair nodded.

              “Say the words. Do you understand the word
stop
will halt your service?”

              “Yes.” Her voice was quiet but clear. “If I say the word
stop
, everything stops.”

              “Good. Come.” His hand moved to her elbow as he directed her to the piece of furniture behind her. Releasing her arm, he motioned at the seat. “Sit.”

              He watched closely. No detail of her response could be missed, no nuance of reaction ignored. If for one moment his little mate did not enjoy her submission, Trel had to know it. This was a huge gamble on so many levels.

She stared at the preparation station with no small amount of apprehension flowering into her intoxicating scent. A little fear but no hint of terror, revulsion, or any other rejection.

              She would have every damn thing he could find a way to give her and his control was one of the gifts she craved. His precious mate knew herself to be sexually submissive and Trel thanked the Goddesses for that small blessing. His hand swung back and landed on her bottom with a loud crack. He’d been careful to cup his hand so the sound was sharper than the sting. “Now,” he commanded in a low growl.

              Clair gasped and stumbled forward, turning awkwardly to scramble into the devise hung with thick, leather restraints. The narrow pad was not actually a seat when the devise was in proper alignment. It was a support that would shift to force her pelvis up.

              She sat and leaned over to grip the straps, her breathing hitched a notch as she attempted to insert her slender foot in the stirrup and wrap the leather around her ankle.

              Trel growled and bent, gently pushing her trembling hands away, he swiftly pulled the strap around her ankle. Even that small task could not be left to another. He would be careful the binding could not hurt her. Grasping the other foot, he easily moved it to the stirrup and secured that strap. Straightening, his hand landed on her midriff, slight pressure and she tilted back to standard station one.

              Clair let out a startled squeak as her body shifted and she found herself on her back, sort of. A blunt pad, positioned at the top of her ass, thrust hips up. Her feet were secured to stirrups that had swung wide as the contraption moved. She ended with her legs bent and elevated so not only bare pussy but also her back entrance was clearly visible. Her hands clutched the top of a short bench that supported her upper back and head. The huge Centurion stood between her legs and leisurely studied her most private flesh.

              He was looking at her. It wasn’t cold, but there was no codling in his regard. She had known there wouldn’t be, but the reality of Trel taking her was more intense than she imagined it would be. She’d been imagining for a very long time, at every opportunity, and still, she underestimated how this felt.

              Breathing in sharp gasps, Clair sank into the flames of surrender. They licked across her inhibitions, a ravenous blaze that could easily consume her very soul. Oh mercy, he was just standing there, examining her. The OBGYN table on steroids restrained and displayed her. Like the huge male regarding her, it removed all her choices, stripping away modesty in the most delicious, commanding way possible. It made her feel more than naked, more than displayed. It shouldn’t have been a shock, but it was.

What totally boggled the mind was that being strapped to the devise was not scary. A week ago if someone had told her that being strapped on a thing that moved her limbs for maximum display was exactly where she would want to be, she would have been horrified and then told the person how insane they were. Probably recommended professional help and everything.

Right now, in this moment with Trel, being strapped in meant she could not fail to submit as he directed. He had removed all concern about doing it right, taking that responsibly on himself. The act of submission became an easy thing instead of the daunting effort that she was not sure she did right. Removing her choices removed a weight of responsibility and that was glorious.

Clair watched the object of her fantasies examine her pussy and ass. His regard was intimately possessive, a red-hot pleasure that shuddered through her. Trel, magnificent in every way, was focused on her. Wanted her enough to ensure she could not fail to please him. This sort of control was completely new ground to her, undreamed of and intensely gratifying. Everything he did, said, asked of her made submission better. How did he do that?

Not like she had time to consider that. He would not let her focus on anything but the experience as he moved them through it. She was learning every action he took drove them deeper into the sensual place he wanted them to be.

Trel pulled a remote from his pocket and raised the platform, bringing her to a comfortable level to handle. The sight of her presenting was a memory he intended to savor slowly, soaking in every detail. Her sweet body was shaking with excitement as she worked her way through this explicit submission.

              Lush was a good word for her. She was everything a fully mature warrior needed. Round thighs to spread for him, a plump
surnim
to pump his seed into and the welcome cushion of her generous back mounds. Those coupled with her compelling scent would have captivated him. That she was his mate forced a much more basic craving.

              Iron control kept his features fixed as the entire universe faded. Clair was a dangerously curvy goddess, bone-melting beauty the weapon she wielded. How did males take this, viewing their mate and not fall on them like starved beasts? Her excitement was displayed in the glossy fluid that flowed from her pretty
surnim
, thick and creamy, plentiful enough to lubricate her other entrance as well.

              The human word
ass
was abrupt, harsh even. He liked the feel of the crude word in his mind as he looked at what he knew was a virgin opening. His female was not his own but her ass would be.

              The deeper scent of shame was creeping into her excitement. Trel smiled inwardly. His little mate was such a repressed female in human society. She thought ridiculous things about her generous body; her thoughts were betrayed by her choice of dress and decorum. Perhaps her station in life had something to do with her clothing, but not much.

He glanced at her face because he couldn’t resist the pull of her soul. Those expressive gray-green eyes would destroy him if he spent too much time looking into them.

Reading her desires was the one Brintex mate skill he had allowed himself this last decade of needing this woman. Less sensitive species might mistake the focus and call it something stupid like mindreading. It wasn’t. It was simply a Centurion’s ability to observe with every sense and catalogue his mate’s responses. Even having to do it from afar, Trel knew her better than any other living being.

He knew her deep desire for submission was a secret. One her husband had never even suspected. Trel shied away from that thought, it was painful. That was the past. What was happening now was what mattered.

              She looked away as he glanced up. He would let her have this moment to hide from him, but it would not last long. He intended to share this pleasure and that meant she would be surrendering her right to conceal anything, even her eyes.

It was clear she had followed his brief instructions without fail. Her body glowed with her preparations and he could scent the deep cleanser she’d used to prepare her back entrance. He’d been blunt in his requirements, fully intending them to leave her in no doubt of his intentions.

Looking pointedly at her ass, he allowed his satisfaction to show on his face a moment. “You have prepared as instructed, good kitten,” he praised. Her hunger for approval from him was another intoxicating flavor to her scent.

“What follows will ensure you are not damaged.” Trel switched subjects, partly to keep her off balance, mostly because he couldn’t bring himself to let her experience real fear as he reached for the next item. Telling her she would not be damaged worked as a warning that let her anticipate with trepidation but not fear.

              She nodded, obviously unsure if she should answer verbally.

              Pulling on a single glove, he picked up the small vial of minerals. Strictly speaking, the mineral cream wasn’t required to protect her, but it would add a new level of sensitivity to her experiences. It was also for him, an indulgence he could allow his possessive drive.

She swallowed when the glove snapped on. Her wide eyes followed every movement as he coated two fingers then carefully set down the little jar. Trel stepped around her leg and came to her side. His bare hand grasped her breast at the base and firmly forced the peak up, soft flesh puckered for him, presenting a dainty nipple.
Not for long,
he mused as he slathered the cream over her nipple and rubbed it into the surrounding circle of coral flesh. With each stroke, he returned to her reddening nipple and rolled it firmly, pulling up as he did so.

Clair groaned softly but he ignored it, concentrating on her breast as he manipulated the tip. He switched to the other breast, grasping it just as firmly to present the nipple for him to work the cream into.

Her hands fluttered off the headboard as he gave her nipple a rolling tug, Trel snarled. She gripped the board again. Moving swiftly, he was behind her head, pulling straps around her wrists. Clair’s mouth opened but the protest died as he stood still a moment, the threat of his inaction clear as he watched her. Her mouth closed and he casually strolled around her fully restrained body to stand between her legs.

He doubted she was conscious of her demands on him, but her subconscious was being crystal clear. She needed his complete dominance and had not even allowed him that one concession—to leave her hands free. With that unspoken request, she’d confirmed his assessment of her desires and released him from any reservations about those needs.

Clair’s panting picked up. The enhanced sensations from her breasts were becoming more pronounced. He paused and watched her nipples swell and redden as the minerals worked into tender flesh. Her areolas puffed up from her breasts as they became engorged, beaded peaks almost double in size and length already. Both breasts were swelling as the demand for blood filled her veins. Sensitivity of those heaving mounds would be increasing as they became firm, jutting up off her ribs in lovely invitation.

She raised her head to stare down, her expression slightly shocked but her scent told him she was pleased at the sight. Satisfaction had little room in the deluge of responses she drew from his soul, but it was there as he watched her. Trel coated his fingers again and reached for delicate folds. His intention clear, Clair gasped and hitched away from him the tiny bit her restraints allowed. Trel did not pause but his eyes met hers as his fingers petted the lip of her
surnim
, his snarl a command and possession as he coated her with the cream.

Clair jerked her eyes back to the ceiling, but the whispered expulsion of air was easily heard. “Oh, God.”

Clair forced herself to relax. When he put the stuff on her breasts she’d felt a warm sensation for about three seconds and then everything changed. Her entire chest lit up with sensation as if she suddenly had a thousand new nerve endings. His touch became the center of her world, what she needed to get to the next moment. Now he was putting it on the most sensitive, needy part of her. Fear and anticipation felt a lot like the first sip of champagne, heady, sweat and dangerous.

Whatever it was he rubbed into her skin, it made her more his and Clair pretty much thought that was not possible. She felt dizzy with the amplification of sensation piled on top of already overwhelming sensuality. He gave her more when it was impossible to feel more, be more.

Even how he handled her, carefully, firmly, stated that she was his but in a way that made her suspect being his might be the most important position possible. The force of a thousand new nerves screaming to life rioted in her mind. They added to the confusing contradictions this absolute submission required. How was it possible to be completely out of control and feel like the center of the universe?