Chosen by the Governor (Under Alien Law Book 1)

Freya sat up and the sheet fell away from her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Marco sucked in an obvious breath and stared at her erect nipples. She wasn’t hungry, at least not for food. Marco had rescued her, abandoned his trip just to save her. She was that special to him and she wanted to thank him.

“If I’m not going back to the Volta, am I still your jenjin? A prisoner?”

He’d an erection. It showed through his pants and she licked her lips, eager to show him she was capable, able to withstand his demands.

“Those things don’t matter anymore.” He approached the edge of the bed and cupped her face in his palms, brushing away the remainder of her tears. “My little fire rabbit, you are everything to me. Everything.”

Freya’s heartbeats raced and when he tilted her chin up, she closed her eyes and waited for his warm embrace and kisses.

* * *

His jenjin? Not any longer. As Marco glided over her, parting the edges of the sheet to uncover her belly and glistening thighs, he sighed.

They’d been seconds away from the jump into the wormhole when Lalita’s message arrived. The decision had been easy to make. He didn’t care to see Halos, not when Freya was in danger. Once the transporter had docked, he ran from the space dock to the infirmary. What Dr. Han had planned was likely to be beyond his remit and Freya’s endurance, too. The doctor had made a mockery of alien studies. Everything the Vendu needed to know had been discovered—Han’s examinations were unnecessary.

Now that he had her in his arms again, everything would change. The Volta had lost its purpose. The idea of visiting his jenjin and claiming her each time had no fascination because she was always his, every hour of every day. During the frantic flight back to Tagra, Marco had realized what love truly was—an unbroken connection to Freya and even if she was a prisoner, he would maintain that bond regardless of protocols.

He’d lived his life by rules, obeyed them without question, and disciplined others who failed them. If love was able to change him, it could work its magic on others too. The Vendu should take heed of its power and use it for the good of the empire. War and conquest had served their purpose, but not any longer. If the emperor asked his rising star, the governor of Tagra, what would bring stability and prosperity to the Vendu, Marco would tell him to accept their destiny. The one that had been theirs to claim ever since they discovered Earth.

Without doubt, he knew Freya would always be his, that she would follow him wherever he went. What if circumstances were switched, would he go with her? What if she was declared free and able to return to Earth—would he give up his post and career for her? He couldn’t contemplate the question, not while he could smell her scent, see the flush of her skin about her breasts and the bright fire in her eager eyes. For now, for however long the moment lasted, she was here where he wanted her.

Having peeled away the sheet and exposed her perfect form, Marco quickly stripped. He ached for her and his stiff cock had swollen, shooting its silvery cum from the slit.

Freya had not forgotten her training. She knelt at his feet, stretched her arms forward, and raised her bottom. If she wasn’t to be his jenjin, then she intended to remain his submissive lover. Clearly, given her graceful response to his undressing, that element of her was natural and unforced. He circled her, admiring the sheen of her shaved folds and the puckered hole above them. All of her would be taken, slowly at first, to ensure she was ready, then with vigor.

Bending over, he gathered her hair in his hand and drew her up carefully, so as to not alarm her, but sufficiently firm for her to know he had control. On cue, she opened her mouth, tucked her hands behind her back, and enveloped his cock with her moist lips. The texture of her tongue, which slavishly worshipped the length of his shaft, felt divine—neither smooth nor rough, the soft flesh massaged his ribbed sheath, easing it over his hard core. He groaned and with his fists locked around her hair, he guided her back and forth until he’d filled her mouth and throat.

She held her breath as he paused to savor the sensation of deep penetration. A brief pause until she started to stiffen her jaw and bare her teeth, warning him she needed to breathe.

He stepped back and held his cock, allowing her sweet mouth juice to trickle over his hand. She wiped her mouth, then as expected, opened it wide again, knowing he’d not finished. He tapped her tongue w

ith the tip of his cock, teasing her and she giggled more through her nose than mouth.

“You like my cock, don’t you?” He slid it along the groove of her tongue.

She nodded.

“Ask for it.” He cupped the palm of his hand around the back of her head, drawing her closer.

“‘Ease, ‘ir, can I ha’ ‘our cock,” she mumbled.

“My pleasure, sweetness.” He thrust deeper and she drooled while sucking the sensitized glans, until the squeeze on his erection forced him to come.

How easily she triggered an orgasm. His calves twitched as he spurted cum down her throat. She swallowed, struggling to keep up with the fountain.

Marco panted as if he’d been fucking her hard, not dipping his cock in and out of her mouth. “Good, that’s good,” he muttered.

Withdrawing his penis, he was pleased to find it rock hard and ready for more action. He wasn’t spent as the first orgasm had merely brought on his lust, driving his libido to its maximum level. How should he take her? Bent over, up against a hard wall, or folded backwards with her bottom raised and her legs bundled out of the way? She’d been taught the positions well and could accommodate most of his wishes.

She’d returned to the pose of submission, stretched out and waiting. Her shoulders rose and fell rapidly as she inhaled. During their time together, since the visit to the tent, when she’d spoken of sex she’d used the term lovemaking. She’d concocted the phrase from the Vendian words and he understood the translation. Fucking was what he considered normal terminology. Hard, forceful sex for his pleasure. She confessed on numerous occasions she liked it, even if it left her sore and exhausted. Now that she was in his home, which lacked the trappings of the Volta with its specialist furniture and equipment, did he want to continue treating her like a jenjin? What if he ordered a loveseat for his bedchamber; would he tie her to it, as he usually did? Would he perform the necessary ritual enemas as her maid had done?

Freya’s body had stilled—the panting had ceased. She’d recovered her poise. It would easy to kneel behind her, enter her, and pound her tight holes in turn. He crouched next to her and traced the line of her spine, down between her bottom cheeks and into the wet folds of her sex. She rippled with goosebumps and wriggled her ass. She wanted it. She was desperate for him. Perhaps, it was time for her to choose. No longer bound by the rules of the Volta, he needed her to agree to this. He loved her, deeply and emphatically, but he couldn’t imagine relinquishing control of her body.

“In here?” He poked his finger into her drenched pussy. “Slowly? Do you want me to caress you with my cock?” He twisted his finger around and edged her soft spot with the tip. “Or pound you until you shake all over?”

“Oh, God,” she moaned in English.

He grinned. When she was extremely aroused, she cursed in her native tongues, English sometimes, but not always.