the hallway. Like a door chime. Corla and I both turn to look in that direction.
“Oh, my God!” she says, spinning in place. “Oh, my God. They’re already here!”
“What the hell? Who is that?”
“It’s them, you idiot! You just ruined everything!”
And then she pushes me. Two flat hands against my chest. With more strength and force than a woman her size should be capable of.
I go flying backwards. A flash of light blinds me and…
CHAPTER FIVE - CRUX
I crash to the ground with the force of her shove.
But it’s not hard. In fact, it’s very soft. Very nice. Very warm.
“Oh, suns, yes! Yes!” A female voice. All breathy and sexy.
And… yeah. That’s nice. Because I’m not back inside the spin node—I’m in a bed with a girl on top of me. She’s wearing a mask. One of those party masks that only cover your eyes. And it’s kind of dark in here, so I can’t really see her face. But who cares about her face? Her tits are bouncing right in front of me.
“Oh, Crux.”
And she knows my name. My actual name.
“Yes! Fuck me!”
But I don’t really have to fuck her, because she’s very busy fucking me. Her nails are gripping my bare shoulders, digging into my flesh as she bounces up and down in my lap. I have no idea where I’m at or if this is even real. But I don’t even care. My life has been a fucked-up mess for so long I need this. I really need this.
I grab her hair and pull her head back, then wrap my other arm around her shoulders and pull her towards me until her chin is resting in the middle of my chest and her eyes are looking right into mine.
They glow for a moment. Just a little bit. And the relief I feel about being back in my own universe or time—or wherever the hell I am—it’s real. That truth is a rush.
And oh, man. She feels good too. Her pussy is wet, and warm, and tight. And she’s got long, light hair. I can’t tell if it’s blonde, or pink, or silver in this dim haze, but no fucks are being given about her hair color right now.
“You feel good, princess.”
“Call me queen again. Please say it again!”
“Sure… sure. You can be my fuck queen.”
Well, that’s the first clue that this might not be real. I can talk dirty if I want to during sex. I just… don’t. Because my queen—my real, actual queen—left me twenty-one years ago and we’ve had sex exactly one time. And during that one time I was kinda fucked up on… something. Not sure. Possibly my pending non-virgin status or maybe those creepy Akeelians had some kind of drug misted into the air of that ballroom. Or truth be told, it’s most likely just because I was sixteen, was in the middle of a breeding ceremony, and had no clue what I was doing.
My point is, that’s my voice, and I’m definitely inside this body, and sure, she’s calling me Crux, so that’s a good sign—but I just don’t say things like ‘You can be my fuck queen’ to the rando women I’ve had settle my Akeelian male urges over the decades. I bang them. If they’re a princess, they might get a fruity cocktail beforehand and I might kiss them if I’m drunk. But basically, I fuck them twice to take care of my needs and then I kick them out.
“Yes!” the girl repeats. “I’ll be your fuck queen! We’ll rule this universe together!”
Well… no. She’s getting waaaay ahead of herself here.
I’m not sharing my throne with anyone but Corla.
I flip her over on the bed so she’s on her back now, and I cup my hand over her mouth. She’s already panting hard, so this makes her eyes go wide behind the mask when she figures out breathing isn’t so easy anymore.
She struggles underneath me. Squirming and wriggling. But I’m a lot bigger than this girl. And a lot heavier too. She doesn’t have a chance.
“Be still,” I growl into her ear. Then I bite it. She squeals into my palm, still wriggling.
I ease up off her, sit back on my knees, and she sucks in air. Then I flip her over again, push her head into the pillow, knee her legs open, and enter her from behind.
She squeals and jerks. But now I’ve got her right where I need her. She’s too busy concentrating on breathing to talk about