Rock Star Romance: Dan (Contemporary New Adult Rockstar Bad Boy Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 4) (65 page)

Lenth laughed, the
sound almost like coughing. “One of the other researchers has discovered that
it’s not…that it’s more difficult to explore that particular part of the human
female body, though we have seen human males perform that function,” Lenth told
her. “If it is something you would be willing to try, we would make sure that
you are very thoroughly prepared first.”

“And that you are
very thoroughly lubricated, also,” Bronn added. Giselle blushed, turning onto
her side to bury her face against the pillows.

“Not—we are not doing
that tonight, or any time in the next…how long are you guys even here?” She
peeked at them, still half-hidden behind the pillow.

“We have a very long
term of visit on this planet,” Bronn told her. He tugged the pillow gently away
and began to caress her everywhere, somehow soothing and arousing her at the
same time. Lenth kissed his way up to her lips from her pussy, nipping and
nibbling playfully as he made his way upward.

“You both—you
want
to have sex with me,” Giselle said, looking from one alien to the other as she
realized it.

“We do,” Bronn said
with a little smile.

“I’ve heard that
human women are excellent at mating,” Lenth said. “You taste very good,” he
added with a pleased grin, drawing his fingers along her slick labia and
bringing them to his mouth. As her tremors began to abate, her body heating up
with more and more desire under the influence of the two aliens’ touches and
caresses, Giselle found herself fascinated by their bodies, intrigued by the
fact that neither male seemed to possess even a single body hair. She glanced
at each of them in query, reaching down to wrap her hand around first Bronn’s
long, thick member and then Lenth’s erection as well, stroking them
experimentally.

Giselle moved around
on the bed, sitting up and then shifting onto her side. “After this,” she said,
faintly remembering the benefit that she was to receive from the arrangement,
“you both had better answer any questions I have about your culture.”

“Can we trade a
question for an experiment?” Lenth suggested, moving her onto her hands and
knees.

“I’ll accept that
deal,” Giselle said. Bronn shifted in front of her, splaying his legs; his
large, ridged erection stood almost proudly a few inches in front of her face.
Behind her, she could feel Lenth’s hands moving over her body, caressing her,
touching her everywhere.

“Shall we try this
configuration first?” Bronn asked her, his voice low in her ears. Giselle
looked at his erection and took a deep breath, steadying her nerves.

“I’ll have to go
slow,” she said, licking her lips. “And so will you. And you, too, Lenth,” she
glanced over her shoulder.

“I won’t force or
hurt you,” Bronn told her gently. “You may stop when you become uncomfortable.”
Giselle smiled, meeting his gaze.

“Aliens from another
planet are more gentlemanly than the best guys I’ve ever met here,” she mused,
licking her lips again. She had to admit that the prospect was intriguing; she
wondered idly what alien semen tasted like.

Giselle took a deep
breath and leaned forward, wrapping her hand around the base of Bronn’s member.
She glanced up at his face as she brought her lips down onto the tip, flicking
her tongue against its silky skin. Up close, breathing in as she tightened her
lips around Bronn’s erection, Giselle realized that neither of the two men
seemed to sweat; but they exuded a kind of lemony smell—strange, but pleasant to
her nose.

Behind her, Giselle
felt Lenth’s weight shifting, felt him spreading her legs wider. She took a
deep breath, steadying herself as she took more and more of Bronn’s cock—was it
his cock? —into her mouth, sucking and licking. Bronn let out a low, almost
growling sound of pleasure, saying something in his strange alien language that
Lenth replied to.

Giselle began to work
her lips up and down along Bronn’s shaft, slowly but surely taking him into her
mouth, becoming accustomed to the strangeness of the ridges rubbing against her
lips. The tip of his thick, large member brushed against the back of her
throat, and for a moment, Giselle panicked—she knew there was no way for her to
take everything that he had. She wrapped her hand more firmly around the base
of his shaft and began to work on him with both her mouth and her fingers,
bringing her lips down as far as they could comfortably go and bringing her
hand up to her lips.

Behind her, she felt
the thick hardness of Lenth’s penis rubbing against her slick folds; she felt a
shiver of fear work down her spine at the thought of him filling her up, taking
her—but she knew that both aliens were serious in their goal not to hurt her.
As Lenth thrust into her slowly from behind, Giselle moaned, her lips and hand
tightening around Bronn’s member in reaction; Lenth’s cock felt almost
uncomfortably large inside of her, pushing past the resistance of her body,
aided by her fluids. She forced herself to breathe steadily, forced her body to
relax as Lenth moved his hips in a slow, rocking rhythm, pushing deeper and
deeper inside of her.

Giselle lost all
track of time, lost all ability to do anything but respond to the sensations
coursing through her body as Lenth began to move gradually faster inside of
her. Her muffled moans were not quite loud enough for her to hear over the
sound of the two aliens’ pleasure as they worked her mouth and pussy at the
same time; Bronn’s hips began to move, though Giselle realized that he was
holding back, that he was being careful—mindful even in his pleasure not to
hurt her. She swayed and rocked between the two men’s bodies, sucking and
licking, pushing her hips back as her body began to adjust to the size of
Lenth’s cock filling her up over and over again.

Giselle felt Bronn tensing,
felt his body coiling like a spring, and pulled back slightly—not sure of what
to expect, but reading the symptoms of what was remarkably like a human orgasm.
The first gush of his climax spurted into her mouth, coating her tongue with
tingling, almost citrusy-tasting sweetness, nearly choking her. Giselle
instinctively swallowed as more and more of the fluid poured into her mouth,
the sweet taste making her eager for more. She moaned as Lenth began to thrust
harder and faster inside of her, every movement of his hips driving him up
against her g-spot; she cried out, the sound muffled by Bronn’s still-erect
member between her lips, as she felt Lenth’s fingers rubbing against her clit
even as his cock rubbed along her inner walls.

Bronn gently pushed her
away, lifting her head from his lap, and Giselle arched and twisted as ripples
of ecstasy coursed through her, so intense she could barely hold herself up
even as Lenth continued to pound into her from behind. She moaned and cried
out, animal sounds of pleasure filling her ears, and felt Lenth’s body tensing
against hers as he reached his own orgasm. The alien shouted out in his strange
language, and Giselle collapsed helplessly onto her elbows, her head falling
forward as her orgasm intensified with the sensation of tingling, thick liquid
gushing into her. The room spun around her until she closed her eyes, trembling
as she blacked out.

****

Bronn watched the
human woman closely as Lenth composed their initial report, murmuring softly
into the speech pickups at his station. “She is as beautiful as any human woman
could be,” Bronn remarked to his colleague, smiling slightly.

“Stop talking about
me in your crazy alien language,” Giselle said, opening one dark eye to look up
at him. Bronn laughed.

“How do you know
we’re talking about you?” Lenth asked, turning away from the terminal to regard
them on the bed. Bronn looked from Giselle to his colleague.

“She’s also extremely
bright,” he remarked, in English for her benefit. “I believe we’ve found a
wonderful recruit for our research.”

“Who else would you
be talking about?” Giselle observed. Bronn smiled more broadly. He watched as
Lenth finished the report, sending it to their superiors before standing up.

“We must develop a
course of experimentation,” Lenth said, reaching the bed in a few steps. He sat
down on the other side of the woman that they had selected, reaching out to
touch her breast. “It will be very rigorous, indeed. We have much time to make
up for.” Bronn brushed his lips against Giselle’s temple—something he had seen
human men do. Their mating with her had already made it easier for him to
detect her emotions with the latent empathy that all Khateen possessed.

“I believe she’s very
willing,” Bronn told Lenth.

“Stop reading my
mind,” Giselle said, glancing at them with an expression that spoke of
suspicion—although minute shifts in her facial muscles betrayed her amusement.
“I’m not going to let you do another thing to me until you answer about a dozen
questions.”

“That wasn’t our
agreement!” Lenth frowned at Giselle. Bronn chuckled.

“Considering how good
it felt to experiment with her,” Bronn told his fellow researcher, “I’m willing
to make a new deal.”

“So,” Giselle said,
and Bronn watched her nimbly shift so that the best features of her body were
in ready view to both men, “Tell me about where you come from. Your planet must
be similar to ours, or you couldn’t live here.”

Bronn teased one of
Giselle’s nipples, marveling at the way her breast responded. “Let us answer
your questions while we prepare you for the next experiment,” he suggested.
“After all, it is hardly fair that Lenth has felt your—is it ‘pussy?’ ”

Giselle burst out
laughing, nodding, and Bronn smiled. “He has felt your pussy, but I haven’t. I
must make my own examination.”

Giselle chuckled,
“Okay, okay. But you have to answer my questions.”

“Full disclosure,”
Lenth said. “Yes, this agreement is going to work out well.”

Bronn let his hands
trail all over Giselle’s body, watching in fascination as she shivered; he
could feel her body temperature rising. “You are a very intriguing creature,”
Bronn murmured lowly, one hand slipping down between Giselle’s legs.

“I would ask if you
two had ever seen a woman naked before…” Giselle started to say with a chuckle.
Lenth echoed her amusement, laughing in the Khateen way.

“We’ve seen films,”
Lenth explained. Bronn brushed his lips against the woman’s neck, feeling the
flutter of her pulse.

“I believe that in
order to fully understand your body, we’ll need a great deal of time,” Bronn
said. He grazed her sensitive skin with his teeth, and felt a thrill of heat
work through his body at her response.

“What kind of time
are we talking about?” Giselle asked, her breaths becoming rapid and sharp as
she became more aroused. Lenth began to touch and tease her as well.

“Every night that
you’re available, for at least the next six months. Can you commit to that?”
Bronn watched Giselle consider the proposal, twisting and writhing under the
combined attentions of the two aliens.

“I can do that,”
Giselle said. “But only if you promise that every session is going to be as
good as this one has.” Bronn glanced at Lenth, amused.

“We’ll make sure that
every time is better than the last,” Bronn told her. He watched the play of
emotions on her face.

“Then I absolutely
accept. Now let’s get to work.”

Bronn chuckled,
knowing that his and Lenth’s experiments with Giselle would be fruitful indeed.

THE END

PART ONE

Chelsea had finally
managed to sink into the depths of the sleep she craved after spending an
entire night tossing and turning, her mind going over the petty details and
stresses of her week at work. Finally, as the sky had already begun to lighten,
her mind had succumbed to the bone-deep exhaustion of her body, and given up
the task of enumerating all of the things she needed to do. She was in the
midst of a dream—a sweet, uncomplicated, comforting dream—when the siren-slide
sound of Hot Hot Heat’s “Future Breeds” reached into her brain, splitting the
air and cutting through the threads of her dream state. Chelsea groaned, the
sound almost a sob of frustration, as she reached out and blindly grabbed for
her phone where she kept it; not on her bedside table, which she knew from
experience would make it easier to turn the alarm off altogether, but on the
desk next to her bed. Fumbling, she closed her fingers around the slippery
device and by memory thumbed the snooze feature.

Chelsea knew that the
nine minutes’ silence would not actually help; it felt as if every joint in her
body had been attacked by bat-wielding assailants, as if her eyelids had been
replaced with sandpaper. The dull throb at her temples told her readily that
nine minutes was simply not a replacement for the hours of sleep she had
missed. But for a precious few moments, at least, she could pretend she didn’t
have to get up and out of bed, that she didn’t have to go to work. Chelsea let
the phone fall onto the blankets, curling in on herself tighter and burying her
face against the pillows in denial of the idea that it was already morning.

She began to slip into
a doze, her muscles relaxing one by one as the silence stretched out.
Maybe—just maybe—she’d get a few minutes of quality sleep. Chelsea’s breathing
evened and slowed, and she was on the edge of falling asleep once more when she
found herself once more pulled sharply into wakefulness by the sensation of her
phone vibrating. Her sleep-fogged brain at first protested that it couldn’t
possibly be nine minutes yet; but then, if it had been, she would be hearing her
alarm tone—not feeling the buzzing vibration of her phone’s silent “ring.”
Someone was calling her.

“It’s like no one in
the entire world wants me to sleep today,” Chelsea muttered to herself, opening
her eyes and scrubbing at her face in self-pity. Her phone continued to
vibrate, and she ruefully gave up on the idea of getting any more sleep. The
only people her exhausted mind could think of who would call her at such an
early hour were her coworkers; her friends knew better, and the few members of
her family still alive and speaking to her did as well. Chelsea yawned as her
hand found the phone where it was buried in the blanket. She picked it up and
squinted against the light in the room as she tried to force her dry, sleepy
eyes to focus on the number flashing on the screen. It wasn’t a number she
recognized. For a moment—a flicker of a thought—she considered throwing the
phone across the room, curling up once more, and considering the day a complete
failure to launch. But Chelsea realized that she was already fully awake; and
if it was a telemarketer, she at least could get the lesser comfort of verbally
tearing whoever it was into pieces.

“Who the hell is
this?” she asked as soon as she had tapped the “accept” icon on her screen and
saw that the call had connected.

“Chelsea Davies, good
morning. You are in a great deal of danger, and I strongly advise you to call
into work sick today. In fact, it would be best if you remained exactly where
you are in your apartment for the next thirty minutes.” Chelsea took the phone
away from her ear and stared at the screen for a long moment, confused and
irritated.

“What are you talking
about? And just how do you know my name?”

“You have plenty of
sick time. You should take some of it today, and stay right where you are until
you hear a knock like this.” Chelsea’s frowned deepened as she heard a tapping
pattern over the phone line: tock-tock-tock-ti-tock. “Did you get that,
Chelsea?”

“I’m not going to
agree to anything until you give me some answers,” she said irritably.

“We don’t really have
time for this; I need to be off of the phone in the next thirty seconds. Be a
good girl and listen to that knock one more time, and tell me clearly whether
or not you understand what I’ve told you.” Once more she heard the tapping
pattern. Curiosity overwhelming her irritation at the mystery caller and the
interruption of her sleep, Chelsea listened to the pattern carefully.

“Okay, fine, I heard
it,” she said sulkily.

“Good girl. You’ll
hear it again in about thirty minutes. Call your office and tell them you’ll be
sick for a couple of days and stay exactly where you are.” Chelsea opened her
mouth to protest the peremptory command when she heard the low-toned
beep-beep-beep
that signaled that the call was disconnected. She let the phone slip from her
fingers and sank down against the pillows, puzzling over the mysterious call
and the equally strange caller. Chelsea frowned, her eyelids descending over
her eyes as her deep fatigue settled over her once more. He had known that she had
plenty of sick time—that much was true; she had banked almost a full week of
sick time.
You’re not calling in sick because some mystery asshole told you
to,
Chelsea told herself as she forced her eyes open and reached for her
phone once more.

“I’m calling in sick
because I am exhausted and I’d be useless at work anyway. It’s a mental health
day.” Chelsea opened up her contacts list and found the number to the office,
coughing a few times experimentally to roughen her voice. She waited for the
automatic prompt to come on—the office didn’t officially open for business for
another hour and a half—and put in the number for her manager’s extension.
Elise wouldn’t be at her desk either; Chelsea knew that she’d go straight to
voicemail, which was for the best. When she heard the tone, she coughed again.
“Hey, Elise,” Chelsea said, pitching her voice low and giving into the fatigue
she felt in every bone of her body without any pretense. “I’m not going to be
able to come in today. I feel like I just got ran over with a Mack truck.” She
coughed again for effect and sniffled harshly. “I may check my email just to
keep on top of things and send a message to HR, but I’ve gotta stay in bed
today. I’ll give you an update later.” She ended the call and let her head fall
back against the pillows, yawning again.

Chelsea’s irritation
rose as minutes passed; she felt vaguely silly about responding to the call,
even if she knew that she was too exhausted to be of use in the office that day
anyway. Her bladder gave a spasm, informing her that it was uncomfortably
full—and that she should take care of that issue. Her mystery caller had told
her to stay exactly where she was; but surely he just meant in the apartment.
Chelsea grappled with the idea before deciding that literal adherence to an
order from someone who hadn’t even been courteous enough to introduce himself
was ridiculous.
It’s not like he’s going to know, anyway.

She picked up her
phone absently as she climbed out of bed and padded towards the bathroom,
yawning a few more times as she made the short trek. She felt faintly
ridiculous that she was waiting in her apartment for the mystery caller—or at
least, she assumed that the coded knock would be coming from him—when she had
no idea of who he was, what he wanted, why he had called her.
Wasn’t there
some kind of urban legend with this set up? This is the way that women get
abducted, isn’t it?
Chelsea washed her hands and splashed water on her face
when she finished taking care of her needs, and went back into the bedroom,
resenting the intrusion on her sleep, her routine.