Clover
Holy.
Shit.
In less than a minute of conversation, that man, or alien, Teeth Ripper, had her imagining that he was ripping off her panties with those teeth and diving straight in. He was hot from his flustered demeanor to his skin that rippled colors as he spoke. Clover wanted to explore that bald head and see if it changed colors when she touched it. She wanted to wrap her hands around that hard on pressing out his pants and—
No. Clover actually slapped herself on the cheek. No, that would not do. The minute he got her panties off, he’d think he owned her.
And she didn’t want to go through that again.
Her father and then her “uncle” were enough to end that little desire. She could survive on her own, thank you very much.
And not just survive. Clover had a thriving business and was well on her way to having a down payment on a bigger ship, maybe a colony ship, where she’d be a captain and take her passengers far, far away from the threat of the Suhlik.
Clover had been very young when the golden space lizards had descended to Earth and began to run amok killing things. Her father had delighted in smooth talking his way onto the first Mahdfel ship he could, dragging his young daughter with him. They’d hopped from ship to ship before finally settling with “Uncle” Garn, a purple, shriveled up old alien that looked like a raisin past its prime.
One day, the two men had left her to mind the ship. She was fourteen by that time and plenty capable of running most of the ship’s functions by herself. Garn had come back covered in blood, announced that her dad wasn’t coming home and then locked himself in the cockpit for a day.
Dad had run a risky life, she told herself. He was bound to get into a position eventually that he couldn’t talk his way out of.
Garn kept her on, and she kept the books. She didn’t find out until much later that Garn actually tried to sell her to the Mahdfel, but they only took women who were older than eighteen. No one else he offered her to could meet his price, so he figured to wait a few years and then take her lottery money by default.
According to the Mahdfel contract with Earth, every single woman of an age had to register and be tested yearly for a match against the warriors currently looking for a mate. If such a match were found, their families were handsomely rewarded for the loss of their daughter.
Too bad for him, the old raisin had kicked the bucket right before her eighteenth birthday. Clover had flown under the radar for a month, registered Garn’s ship as her own, taking over all of his legitimate contracts, letting the more risky stuff slide. With a better head for business, Clover had updated the ship, streamlined the cargo and made more money than Garn ever had with his slightly underhanded deals.
The life worked for her. She had no home but her ship. And that was just fine.
Clover did not need a husband. Or children. Or someone to hold on to her every night of the week.
Her console beeped at her. The passenger code had been inputted into the hatch. Her mystery guest had arrived. Clover was not feeling sociable. She was feeling a bit hot and bothered and ready for a really long session alone in her cabin. She set the ship lights to direct the passenger to his cabin. She left a little welcome message and when he marked it read and ready to go, she notified the station, released the clamps and off they went to Earth.
Would she even recognize it when she saw it? She hadn’t been back since she was twelve. Knowing her father, he’d probably been running from something. And Garn hadn’t wanted to have his little orphan prize removed from his possession so he’d steered clear.
There was very little to feel nostalgic for anyway. Most of her memories were of bad shelters, people coughing and her father wheeling dealing his way from one person to another, never quite getting them all that he promised.
Clover didn’t even remember her mother. Her father had never spoken of her and now that he was dead and she was old enough to be curious, there was no one left to ask. She didn’t even have the names of her grandparents.
It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to show up and locate a few DNA matches and see if they were still alive. It wouldn’t hurt to actually have someone to leave her ship to when she crossed over into the great beyond or whatever.
It was a possibility to consider. And she had about two weeks to mull it over. For now, she was plenty busy setting the course and checking all the local intel logs to make sure the flight path didn’t go too near any hot zones. If her passenger wanted super speed, he shouldn’t have booked with her.
Orth. What kind of name was that? At least it was short. His last name looked nearly impossible to pronounce. She hoped he was some old and wrinkly thing that would laugh at her jokes but stay out of the way. If he was Mahdfel, that was not a high chance. Mahdfel didn’t really get old. They stayed young and in peak physical condition and died in battle for the most part. He’d give her a sniff and then order her about and then she’d smile and nod and do exactly whatever the hell she wanted to do. But if he were mechanically inclined, she would definitely set him to work and investigate that thud-thud noise. Mahdfel loved to be productive. Just mention a problem and they got to work on a solution. She couldn’t argue with generally competent free labor.
Mr. Teeth would have been fun to watch bend over acting all efficient. Clover shifted in her seat. First things first, though, before she let her imagination run away with its new toy. Set out the ground rules with the new passenger, play the hostess and then she could go take care of her nagging sense of horniness.
Everything in the cockpit was good to go. The ship practically flew itself once the coordinates were inputted. Clover stood and headed toward the passenger cabins. Her quarters were about four times bigger than the small rooms that lined the hallway. She lived here. They were just temporary rooms for passengers. The bulkheads actually had several configurations. She could accommodate a couple, a small family or more commonly, several solo passengers. Most of the space was, of course, reserved for cargo, but on this trip, they’d be flying mostly empty. The Mahdfel money made up for it, and with a guaranteed pick up on Earth, she’d be sitting pretty with a fairly simple run.
Clover pressed the button near the door to announce her presence. She plastered her best hostess smile and waited. The door slid open and Clover took a step back. There was Mr. Teeth and he had shed his more formal space station uniform for a planetary one. She’d seen them before on some of the warmer planets. He wore nothing but a pair of tight shorts, and hell, she couldn’t help stare at his cock progressively getting harder and more pronounced as she stood there.
“You are not my passenger.”
“I am. Orth.” He said it carefully, in Mahdfel common, to make sure the translator didn’t muck it up again.
Clover crossed her arms over her chest, more to hide her tight nipple points than for any anger she felt, but then as she processed the day, she realized something.
“You did this on purpose. You canceled my shipment so I’d have to take you.”
“I will not touch you unless you wish it.”
And that was exactly the problem. Her body screamed for him and his hot naked chest. The black tattoos were swirling with colors and was it her imagination or were they starting to glow? She’d never seen a Mahdfel with glowing tattoos.
“I’m going to take you back,” she managed to say, finally tearing her eyes away from him.
“You have already accepted the contract, and I do indeed need to get to the Terran moon.”
“This is not going to work.”
“It will.”
“So you’re just going to walk around like that all the time?”
He looked confused. He saw nothing wrong with his appearance. Honestly, there was nothing wrong visually about this guy. He was tall, muscled with creamy green skin that she wanted to taste.
He should wear clothes. People wore clothes.
“No,” Clover repeated.
“I do not understand.”
“You are wearing itty bitty shorts and you’re, well, happy to see me.”
“I am happy to see you. Seeing you is a pleasure.” The huskiness in his voice revealed that he would definitely love to see more of her. Naked.
“Your anatomy is-”
“I am a medic. I understand all medical terminology and conditions. If you are referring to my erect status, that is a natural function when so near a potential mate.”
“Exactly. So are you just going to walk around here with your shorts tented?”
“The sensation will grow less intense with time, I believe, but if it bothers you, I will attempt some relief.”
Great. Now she was going to picture him lying in his bunk, cock in hand, jerking off that green monster. She wondered how far his cum would shoot from it. Would she have to clean the ceiling?
He followed her gaze up, puzzled. Clover shook her head and sighed loudly. “I know Mahdfel are all about control and that crap, but seriously. Why even put yourself through it?”
“Because you will change your mind.”
“Dream on Teeth Man.”
“Orth.”
Even his name sounded like a whispered lover’s promise. Steer away from that one.
“Doc. No. Scrubs.” Nice. Safe. Innocuous.
“You may call me whatever you like.”
Clover rolled her eyes. Half of her wanted to actually put his stubborn ass to the test. The other half wanted to be two sectors away from him. If she turned around and declined the contract, two things would happen. First, her nest egg would be blown. The Mahdfel would lay fines on her for breaking the code. Secondly, she could count any lucrative shipping deals gone. The Mahdfel were long lived and had an even longer stubborn streak. They never forgot a broken promise.
Another distant possibility was that in ten months when her lottery date came up, she’d be matched with Scrubs in the end anyway. And if she wanted the chance to run, she’d need all the money she could scrounge.
There was nothing that said she had to be a gracious host while ferrying him across the space between the outpost and her former home planet.
“Fine. I’m sure you can figure out the meals and there’s a standard reading library available. Feel free to wander anywhere except my private quarters, except I wouldn’t go into Cargo Bay Three. I think some of the Cartuga melons I carried on a trip before last went a little off and I still haven’t been able to get rid of the stench.”
“Perhaps dinner—”
She cut him off right there. “Like I said. A Mahdfel doc should be smart enough to push a few buttons.”
“I meant with—”
An imaginary alarm beeped on her com unit. “Oh, I gotta take care of that. Have a safe and uneventful trip.”
A moment later, she was halfway down the corridor, praying that she didn’t look like she was fleeing.