Page 3 of A Savage Bargain

I decided to play along until I could figure out my options. If this lunatic wanted to believe I’d agree to being trafficked, I could do that until I found a way out of this mess. “Bailey Wicker,” I finally answered.

“How old are you? In Earth years.”

In Earth years? Sure. “28.”

The stranger nodded. “Remove your clothes.”

“Um, no.”

“Then you will be disposed of.”

We stared at each other, my own green eyes likely reflecting the crazy bright green of his.

“Remove your clothes if you do not wish to be disposed of,” he repeated his request in a tone suggesting he’d made this request a thousand times before.

Fuck it. Even though I didn’t think we were on a spaceship, let alone out in space, on the off chance I was wrong, getting naked was better than being blown out of an airlock. Plus it bought me time. Using the heel of first one foot and then the other, I slid my shoes off. I grabbed the bottom hem of my black tank top and, in one fluid motion, yanked it over my head. Given my small-breasted stature, I wasn’t wearing a bra. My nipples hardened in response to the stranger’s gaze on them.

He said nothing, so I continued. My fingers fumbled with the button of my jeans, but the zipper was easy enough. I slid the jeans over my hips and down to the floor of the shipping container, shivering when the cool air flowed over my bare skin. My face burned when I realized my panties were becoming damp from unexpected desire. I chose not to remove them.

After a beat, he spoke. “Finish.”

I waved my hand over my almost-nude body. “You can see the merchandise,” I snapped, irritated both by being forced to strip and by my body’s traitorous reaction.

“You will remove everything.”

I hooked a finger in my cotton panties and slid them down as well, moving slowly not to arouse, but to delay. Once I was naked, what would happen? The stranger’s bright eyes betrayed nothing.

The panties skimmed along my skin, joining my jeans on the floor. I stepped out of them and stood naked before the stranger. I couldn’t keep calling him that. Doubt remained that I was on a spaceship. But, since he believed he was—and I couldn’texplain his appearance, to be honest—I needed another term. Alien, I supposed, was better terminology, given the fucked-up situation.

A calloused hand reached out and cupped my breast.

I squeaked and stepped back in response.

The alien frowned. “Bailey Wicker. You must consent to my examination so I can determine if you meet the Collector’s requirements.” He shrugged.

The remarkably human gesture made me question further whether he was some human mutant… or, playing devil’s advocate, how long and often he came to Earth.

“Or you can be disposed.”

Damn it. I chewed on my lower lip. Being blown out of an airlock or being groped by the alien. How did my life choices lead me here? “Get on with it,” I growled.

The alien surprised me by winding a piece of my long red hair around one of his blue-green fingers. He released the strands and stepped closer.

My breath caught in my throat as he cupped both of my breasts in his large hands. He kneaded them, rolling his thumbs over my nipples, making noises when they rose to attention. His hands drifted lower, over my ribcage to my waist. He encircled my waist for a moment before sliding his hands behind me and lowering them to grasp my ass. The tight grip shocked a gasp out of me as I recognized my rising lust. How could being groped by an alien turn me on?

The alien used his hands to spin me so that now I faced away from him. He pushed on my upper back. My face flushed when I bent at the waist before him. Desire pooled in my belly even more when he separated my ass cheeks, exposing the anus. One hand released a globe and he placed his hand on my anus, rubbing against me. Pleasure radiated throughout my body and I mewled in response. Longing for release grew. My hand roseinvoluntarily to my breast, and I caught myself before acting on the impulse to tweak my erect nipple.

Almost as if in response to my internal want, the alien cupped my sex, massaging against the exterior folds.

Oh my god. His skin wasn’t just colored like an undulating oil slick. The combination of warm and cool of his fingers against my sensitive folds felt like nothing I’d experienced before. The scales tipped more in the direction of his truly being an alien.

My thoughts stilled when he separated my pussy lips.

No. He surely wasn’t?—

A finger entered me. I could have wept from the pleasure of the mixed warm and cool fullness. I bucked against his hand and he made a popping noise.

“Already wet is good,” he said.

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