Locking the doors made no difference and would just clue her father in that she was on edge and wary. Her escape had all hinged on him thinking she was the dumb, unaware little “princess” he’d trained her to be—a part she’d been forced to play for far too long.
Her lips quirked as she pushed the empty plate away and leaned back with a sigh to enjoy her coffee. It was testament to how dangerous her life had been that she could sleep like a baby here, passed out and helpless with someone like Altav in the room.
In the shower…
Memory assaulted her, giving her an xxx-rated replay of the big, heavily muscled mercenary in the shower last night. His massive cock had been hard in his big fist as he’d stroked himself, the flushed head playing peekaboo with her through his fingers. She closed her eyes, biting her lip. How would that thick length feel filling her up? She whimpered and pressed her thighs together, heat escaping her to dampen her inner thighs at the thought. He was so big he’d practically split her in two but she didn’t care.
Mug cradled in one hand, she slid her other hand down her body, under the fabric of Altav’s shirt and between her thighs. She imagined it was his fingers touching her, sliding between her pussy lips to collect the slick essence of her arousal and smooth it up over her clit. She rubbed herself in soft strokes and tiny circles that soon sped up as she imagined him pinning her against the wall… or the desk, his big hand between her thighs.
Her mug clattered against the desk, hot fluid slopping down the side as her hand under the shirt moved faster. She moaned softly, arching her back and rocking her hips as she rode her own hand, all the while pretending it was his.
A small cry broke from her throat as she pushed two fingers inside herself, knowing at any moment the door could open and he could walk in. That thought was enough to tip her over the edge and she shattered apart, her climax curling her toes against the cold metal floor. She shuddered and sagged against the chair, biting her lip as she pulled her fingers free, lazily rubbing over her clit to elongate the little aftershocks. She’d never come so hard or so fast, all to thoughts of Altav touching her. Making her come…
“Mouse?” his familiar deep voice filled the room and she squeaked, her cheeks burning as she whirled around, checking the inside of the tiny cabin. The thought he’d been in here all along, watching her bring herself off made her heart race. But no, no one was in here but her and there was nowhere for anyone, even a child, to hide, much less someone Altav’s size.
“Y-yes?” she asked, standing in the middle of the room.
When he spoke again, she isolated the sound to speakers up near the ceiling above the door.
“You might want to come up to the bridge,” he said. “We’ve received a message for you… From your father.”
It didn’t take her long to get dressed in the clothes Altav had left for her and emerge from the room. Finding the bridge was likewise simple, the sound of voices drawing her along the corridor and up a short flight of stairs. She blinked as she paused in the doorway. The bridge was tinier than she’d expected, made smaller still by the number of large bodies crammed into the space.
“Given how…” she motioned with her hands out and up, “you all are, I think you need a bigger ship.”
Fin, sitting at one of the consoles on the other side of the room, smirked. “It’s not how big it is. It’s what you do with it, darlin’.”
“She’s not your darlin’,” Altav growled in warning, already standing to let her have his seat.
“Behave, you lot. Good morning, Miss Ingrassia. How did you sleep?” T’Raal turned toward her to ask, a long-suffering expression etched into his handsome face at the antics of his crew before he smiled. “I see Skinny managed to find some clothes to fit you.”
She nodded, smoothing the combats over her hips. They were a little long in the leg and looked suspiciously similar to the clothing Tank wore. She just hoped he’d actually asked permission and not just raided the other woman’s wardrobe.
“He did, yeah. And I slept well, really well, thank you.”
She smiled up at Altav… Skinny, she should remember to think of him like that… as he ushered her to sit down in his chair. She made to move past him but his hand shot out, stopping her. With a frown on his face, he breathed in, his nostrils flaring slightly. Heat hit her face. What was he doing… smelling her?
Before she could ask, he lifted his hand and let her sit down in the chair. Like him, it was huge, the plasti-leather still warm from his body. A shiver of pleasure rolled through her as she settled in. It was surprisingly comfy, even if she couldn’t reach the floor.
“You said there was a message from my father?” she asked, ignoring the nerves that rolled through her as she plastered a calm look on her face. She didn’t want to appear weak in front of the mercenaries and pulled her “Ingrassia Princess” persona around her. “He can’t track it. Can he?”
The last thing she wanted was to lead her father’s retribution right to Altav and his crew. Not when they were only trying to help her.
“Not a chance. I’ve pinged this around so many relay stations he’ll think you’re on Terra itself.” Altav chuckled, the deep sound a rumble from his wide chest as he squatted beside her. He was still taller than she was, even though he was supposedly lower down. His hands moved over the console in front of them with a hypnotic grace. His hands were strong, his fingers long and graceful. Heat rolled through her again at the memory of what she’d been up to in his quarters, imagining him touching her…
As though he could read her thoughts, which was impossible, his hands stalled for a moment and he slid her a sideways glance. She cleared her throat and sat up, banishing all such lustful thoughts from her mind just in case.
“Okay, good… what does it say?”
Altav pressed something and her father’s face appeared on the screen. He sat in his office, behind the big Terran oak desk with the two-hundred-year-old tapestry behind him. Both items were worth more than planets he owned and both had been taken by force from their previous owners. That tapestry still had blood splatters across it. It was an extravagant display of wealth and intimidation, a highly effective one.
“Marika.” He smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his dead, flat eyes. “You’ve put me to some considerable trouble, pet, and I am not at all happy. I don’t care where you are or who you’re with. You’d better get yourself back home. Mr. Martell is most concerned that his soon-to-be wife is out there alone and unprotected.”
She shivered at the mention of her never-going-to-be groom as her father leaned forward.
“And believe me, you would not want him to track you down. As his wife, you might have some protection against his… preferences,” he stated. “Especially as I have his written, contracted agreement that you will not be harmed—well, not permanently—before you have borne me a grandson. But if he catches you alone without the protection of his wedding ring on your finger…” Her father shrugged, sitting back, “There is nothing I can do about that. All that means is I need to sacrifice a second daughter to settle my debt to him.”
She frowned, looking at Altav.
“I don’t have a sister—”