[Ménage and More: Erotic Futuristic Sci-Fi Ménage a Quatre Romance, M/M/F/F, with F/F, HEA]
Placed together as part of the Daedalus crew as they make first contact with a people deeply divided by civil war, Lieutenant Commander Rabine Salas and Lieutenant Cliff Rochester soon find they can't keep their hands off of each other. Crosley, the leader of the Ling rebels, and his wife Leilend have been together for many years as both lovers and coconspirators fighting for freedom and equality for their people.
When the conflicting and puzzling stories presented to Rabine and Cliff by the planet's Security Chief Logan force them to make direct contact with the Ling, they find that Crosley and Leilend have stimulating powers of the mind. The intimate contact with the Ling couple makes sparks of passion and love fly, but the Daedalus crew soon learns that the Ling harbor a dark secret.
Can the blossoming love between the four overcome the horrors of the past?
A Siren Erotic Romance
Cliff tried to work out in the gym, but he’d found a pulled muscle in his neck from his last fight, so he cut the session short and decided to visit the small nightclub on Daedalus for a couple of drinks with friends. Most of Cliff's nights out were spent pursuing one skirt or another, but once in a while he enjoyed a night out with the boys, and this was shaping up to be a good one.
Dave Meyers was already facedown on the table. He was a good kid, but he was still a kid. Not that Cliff would want to face off against Meyers when the boy had on his body armor and was fully armed, but at only nineteen, he had a lot of growing up to do. Cliff had danced a couple of times with Mary Hardy, the lead cryptographic specialist in the Intelligence Office, and while Mary wasn’t much to look at, she had boobs that just wouldn’t quit, and when slow dancing with her, her chest made a nice, soft pad between them. He’d also danced with a few of the Ensigns and Lieutenants hanging around the bar, but nothing too serious, at least no more serious than a quick squeeze of their ass or a brush of his hand over their tits. Some were pretty cute, and Cliff wondered which one—or two—he might be able to get to come back to his cabin later tonight.
The bar was nice but small. Cliff did a tour on Boone, the Emperor’s flagship, and he couldn’t help but compare the nightclub on Daedalus to the Imperial Café on Boone. The Imperial Café would seat more than three thousand people, whereas the club here held maybe two hundred. Then again, Boone carried a complement of over twenty-five thousand while Daedalus held less than a thirtieth of that number. One thing did carry over from Boone to Daedalus—the music. When Stuart Dayton designed Boone, he wanted old music in the nightclub. Since he was Lord Admiral of the Fleet when he built Boone, he got what he wanted. Just like the Imperial Café, the club here played music that was all at least four thousand years old. It took some getting used to, but Cliff found he liked it.
Cliff sat with his back to the door of the nightclub so he could face O’Connell. Like most Marines, Jack hated having his back to a door.
Jack laughed. “I thought you were going to get your sorry ass kicked yesterday.” He nodded at the passed-out form of Meyers. “It’s a good thing sleeping beauty there noticed the shoulder drop.”
Cliff nodded. “Tell me about it. For a little guy, he hit pretty hard, and I couldn’t take much more of that.”
“I could tell you were getting addled, and…” Jack trailed off, his eyes locked on the door of the nightclub. “Who the hell is that?”
Cliff turned to follow Jack’s gaze and saw two women coming into the bar. One was Alexa Romanoff, the ship’s resident genius. She was also like everyone’s grandma. Alexa was over three hundred years old, just a little overweight, and had snow-white hair. She pretty much adopted everyone on board. She also tended to drink like a fish.
But the other woman made him stare. Tall and slender, she wore a jet-black jumpsuit that highlighted every curve of her body, and she had a lot of curves to highlight. He’d always been a boob man, but this woman didn’t have the huge tits that usually grabbed Cliff’s attention. Instead of bulging mounds of flesh on her chest, her breasts were perfect. His gaze tracked down her body, around the gentle curve of her waist, and over the smooth swell of her hips. Even for a tall woman, her legs were amazingly long, reaching all the way from her ass to the deck, and the jumpsuit was snug enough that the shape of her legs showed through.
As Cliff’s stare floated back up from her feet, he remembered there must be more than a fantastic body to this beauty, and he forced his gaze up to her face. He realized too late that doing so was probably a mistake. He saw the short hair—black as pitch—surrounding her face. He’d been a sailor long enough to become a firm believer in the idea of a girl in every port, and more than a few onboard, and Cliff normally didn’t mince words, especially when thinking or talking to himself about women. But somehow, he couldn’t come up with any euphemisms to describe the woman’s face. Yes, it was triangular in shape, and the black hair framed it perfectly in the way it curled around her face. All he could come up with was that her face was pretty. He thought it sounded like something a greenhorn midshipman would say about his date to an Academy dance.
Just then, the woman turned and looked directly at him, and he saw her eyes. From his vantage point across the dimly lit dance floor, her eyes looked black as night, an ideal complement to her gorgeous hair.
Jack reached across the table and grabbed his shoulder. “Hey! Snap out of it!”
Cliff had to physically pull his gaze away from the woman to look at Jack. “What?” He felt more addled than in the bout yesterday.
“Snap out of it, Cliff!” Jack nodded in the direction of the door. “She’s not all that.”
Cliff shook his head, trying to focus. He didn’t think he had much luck, though. “I think you’re wrong.” He tossed off the remaining beer in his glass, and the liquid courage made up his mind. “I may or may not be back.” He stood and headed off to the bar where the two women had found seats.
Rabine wondered if she would need to plant another haymaker to Cliff’s jaw to get him on the floor with her. He stepped back from her, but she knew all was well when he scooped her into his arms and walked toward the sofa. His lips never left hers as Cliff carried her, and she loved the flavors that danced through her mouth.
Cliff’s kiss went on forever, or at least Rabine hoped it would. Her body trembled, and heat flooded through her pussy and across her breasts.
Like he moved in slow motion, Cliff lowered her to the soft maroon velvet material of the sofa. He worked his body and knelt beside her, his hands wandering over her and gently caressing her through the cloth of her jumpsuit. The touch of his fingers changed the trembles racing through her into major shock waves like the planet was coming apart around her.
His lips slipped from hers, and Cliff looked down into her eyes. Rabine felt no reservations when his fingers reached the zipper of her jumpsuit, and he tugged at the slide, pulling the fastener down its full length to just below her waist. When his hands came up to push the black fabric of her outfit aside to expose her bra, his gaze flickered from her face to her chest. He stopped breathing for a moment, the breath seeming to catch in his throat for an instant, before he moved with deliberate confidence to release the catch between the cups of her bra.
When the elastic material of her bra snapped back, leaving her breasts fully exposed, the fleeting touches of Cliff’s fingers against her hard nipples made her jerk with pleasure. His gaze still locked to her chest, he again stopped breathing for a time. He held his breath long enough that Rabine felt concerned.
She reached up and stroked her hand down his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t look away from her breasts, but his mouth moved a few times before he found his voice. “The only word I’ve been able to come up with for the way you look is perfect. As silly as that sounds, it also fits.”
Cliff’s expression was flat, almost emotionless. She instantly knew that wasn’t right, though—somehow Rabine knew emotion wasn’t absent in him and actually just the opposite was happening. He struggled to avoid a flood of emotions swamping him.
Rabine again stroked his cheek. “Thank you, but I’m far from perfect.”
He didn’t answer, but instead moved his fingers slowly to touch her breasts with trembling intent. After a few moments of teasing her nipples, he gripped her breasts in his palms, kneading and squeezing. The shock waves evolved into full-blown planet-killing quakes rolling through her body.
Cliff leaned over her and sucked her nipple into his mouth. His tongue flitted around the hard nub, and his free hand moved down her body, tickling across her stomach. He pushed his hand under her panties and his fingers rubbed lightly over the hair she kept closely cropped. Rabine flexed her hips slightly, and he pressed his fingers between the folds of skin to flicker over her clit.
In the tangle of limbs and clothing, Rabine lost track of exactly how Cliff got the jumpsuit off of her, but she found herself lying naked on the sofa. He turned her to lean her back against the seat, and the red softness of the upholstery cushioned her body. Cliff knelt on the floor before her and lifted her legs to drape them over his shoulders. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to her pussy, and she shivered with delight as he licked over her slit, lapping at the wetness sparking in the light of the table lamp beside the couch.
When Cliff spread her lips with his mouth and swirled his tongue around her clit, Rabine’s legs flexed of their own volition, clamping tight against his head and pulling his face hard to her pussy. He licked and plunged his tongue deep into her, and Rabine gasped for breath and her back arched, pressing her hips even tighter to his mouth.
He reached up, his arms wrapping around her thighs, and gripped her breasts. His fingers moved to some music Rabine couldn’t hear as they danced over and around her nipples. When he snared the hard buds between his thumbs and forefingers, Cliff rolled her nipples firmly, and just then he sucked her clit between his lips and nibbled tenderly, his teeth nipping at her.
Light flooded her mind, and her pulse thrummed in her ears like she was inside a symphony kettledrum. As the tremors rocked her body, Cliff sucked hard on her clit, sending wave after wave of orgasm through her. He pinched her nipples, rolling them, and a series of meaningless panting screams burst from her.
Rabine had lost all track of time, but it seemed that her climax lasted for hours before Cliff released her nipples and then lifted her legs from over his shoulders. He lifted her slightly from the sofa and turned her so she reclined against the arm.
He wiped at the glistening moisture still around his mouth before he leaned closer to her. “Just relax.”