Why do I feel like a man untethered? And why did they make the collars on these shirts tighter than any armor I’ve ever worn?
The scent of the flowers was overwhelming him. He needed her to speak or answer or something. Even if she told him no, to go away, that would be better than this silence.
Finally she met Mo’ata’s gaze. “I had the chance to talk a bit with your mother, you know. Before you came back to the camp.” Her smile faded again, and her voice was soft. “She told me a little about how the pridas work. That it’s the woman who initiates.” Her hand trembled and the paper she gripped shook, but her voice remained even. “She said there were ‘terms and a gift.’ I don’t have a gift, well, not really. But I brought terms.” Her voice cracked up at the end, and Mo’ata realized she was as terrified as he was.
Nothing was more important to a priden than the safety and security, physical and emotional, of his shopa.
He reached for her, cradling her hand in his, and rose, pulling her to her feet with him. “My mother didn’t explain well. The gift is mine to give, the terms yours.”
“Oh. We’re covered then.” She bit her lip, and her cheeks colored. “I sort of brought a gift.” She stepped back revealing the flat object that had fallen out of her pocket. She scooped it up and held it out.
Taking it from her, he held it up and twisted it around in the light. A round membrane of some kind, sealed in plastic. “Thank you?”
The color in her cheeks deepened, and she looked away from him. She licked her lips and sent him a quick glance, her gaze bouncing between him, the small packet, the floor, the flowers, Forrest, and then finally back on him. Soft snickers came from Jason and Trevon.
This must be an Earth thing, but he didn’t recall learning of something with this...
“It’s a condom,” she said, her voice low.
Oh. His eyes widened. Oooohhhh.
“Now he gets it,” Trevon muttered. Levi slapped a hand over the man’s mouth.
Beside him, Forrest’s shoulders shook.
Mo’ata closed his fist around the object, tucking it into his pants pocket. He smiled at Blue and reached for her cheek, cradling it in his palm. “It is a very nice gift, shopa. Ignore the buffoons.”
She pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine. “It is a good gift. Now, for my terms.” She held out the paper once more.
White paper lightly lined in blue fairly glowed in her fingers. He gently gripped the edge and slid it from her grasp. “I do not read English as well as I speak it. It was not required.”
“I’ll read it to you if you need me to.”
“I can help,” Forrest said. “I want to see what these are.”
Blue’s blush came back. Mo’ata stared at her, studied her, and committed her to memory. A girl to a young woman. He couldn’t wait to see what she became eventually.
And he wanted to be there for the journey.
A nudge from Forrest brought him back to the ceremony. He unfolded the paper.
There were eight lines, each term preceded by a small mark.
- No fluffy cloud blankets of protection.
- Always use the neediness words when necessary: teapot = mild, coconut = medium, octopus = high alert and red flashing warning signs (only for emergencies).
- Everyone gets a penny jar. We’ll have to set them up on a shelf or something.
- Cuddles (or more) at least three times a week. (Schedule is open to negotiation.)
- Blue gets to pick her own career path. If she wants to tromp around in jungles or jump off cliffs, she can.
- Animals included.
- Kisses every day.
- Tell Blue something new every day.
Forrest read them aloud without asking.
Mo’ata ran a finger over the list. As terms went, they were simple. Usually they involved trade and compensation and what each member would provide to the prida, behaviors that were and were not acceptable, and a division of duties.
But theirs was not a traditional prida, and Blue was not a traditional shopa; why would the terms be traditional?
He met her gaze, the blue standing out more than normal. “Kisses every day?”
She nodded, emphatic. “That one is non-negotiable.”
He folded the list and tucked it into his pocket beside the condom. “I accept.” Forrest nudged his arm and passed the box containing the ring over to him. “And now for the gift. If it is not adequate, I will get you another.” He held it out, much as Forrest had earlier, his heart once again pounding.
Her hand rose, fingers hovering just over the velvet-lined lid. In a rush of motion she plucked the box from his palm and opened it. She stared down at the ring; its band was slim, the diamond small and flanked by two sapphires. Forrest had insisted, and Mo’ata agreed, that something larger wouldn’t suit. Simple and elegant, that’s what was called for in this instance.
She handed the box back, and for a moment he was sure he’d be sick. “Put it on me?” she asked. Her lips trembled and tears shimmered in her eyes, but the smile was back.
His knees weakened in relief. And most men on Earth did this? Did the asking? How did they survive? He took back the box and pulled the ring from its slot. Handing the now empty container to Forrest, he held out a hand to Blue. She placed her left into his, and he struggled to remember which finger the ring belonged on.
Forrest leaned in. “Next to the pinky,” he whispered.
Right. Mo’ata placed the ring in front of the correct finger and met Blue’s eyes with his own. “You are my shopa, my heart. I will protect you with everything that I am and with everything that I will ever be.” He slid the ring onto her finger until it rested at the base, sparkling against her skin. Then he stepped in to her and reached up, smoothing his palm over her hair and cradling her neck. “I told you I would say yes.” She rose up on her toes, meeting him halfway, and they kissed.
He lost himself in her, in the feel of her against him. He vaguely registered quiet cheers and soft paws patting at his legs. He shut it out, concentrating on the taste of her, the scent, clean and sweet with just a hint of sweat.
He pulled away. “Everyone get out. Now.”
BLUE
Blue sucked in a breath as Mo’ata pulled away. He said something to the other men, but she didn’t know what it was, nor did she care.
He’d said yes. He had said he would, and he did. He didn’t even balk at the terms, and she’d thought for sure she’d have to fight him about the career path item.
And then he’d proceeded to put a ring on her finger and kiss the breath right out of her.
There was movement, a few scuffs, a yowl from one of the cubs, and then they were alone. Mo’ata wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her against him. His suit jacket was smooth beneath her fingers, and she marveled that they had done all of this—snuck in a jungle of flowers, arranged music and a little bower—all in a semi-abandoned construction zone. For her.
Mo’ata hiked her higher, and she wrapped her legs around him, squeezing against the hard muscles of his abdomen. He started walking as she slid her fingers along his shoulder and to the nape of his neck. Their lips met in another kiss.
It was a little rough, but she could feel the control behind it. She pushed into him, needing to get closer somehow, even as their breath mingled and their tongues tangled. He tasted of mint.
When he stopped the kiss, it was only to lay her down on a bed with blue satin sheets surrounded by more flowers and candles.
She would think about how sweet it was later. Right now she needed this man. She’d been starved for touch, and for him. She’d had her night with Forrest, but not Mo’ata, not her clansman, and she was more than ready. He climbed over her, his hair falling over his shoulders, shrouding them in their own world. Somewhere he’d lost the jacket, and as his kisses turned from hungry to teasing, her hands went to his shirtfront, working the buttons loose.
It was harder than it should have been. He kept dist
racting her.
He went from kisses to teasing nibbles, working along her jaw and down to her neck. She tilted her head to the side, giving him better access. When he reached the collar of her shirt, he pulled back.
She lay before him, legs parted to allow him closer. He knelt on the bed, hair wild, buttons on his shirt half undone. Without a word, he reached up, unbuttoning his cuffs, then the shirt, and slipped it off. Every movement was precise. Each flick of his fingers drew her eyes. The desire, the restlessness that had only had a chance to get going with Forrest, filled her. Her hips shifted, and Mo’ata raised a brow as he finally slipped the shirt off.
And of course she zeroed in on his man nipples. They were pretty. Cute little buttons sitting in the middle of his chest, the dark ink of his tattoos curling around them. She wanted to lick. She didn’t say it, though, unsure how Mo’ata would react. See? Learning restraint.
The muscles of his chest flexed, and her eyes shot up, meeting his gaze. He raised a brow, and she swallowed.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“Sort of?” Her gaze drifted back down and then farther, to where a light dusting of red hair swirled around his belly button, then trailed into his pants. The outline of his erection was clear. “I mean, Forrest and I already, but maybe… and then we didn’t, but I want to…” Her gaze slid away. “And now I’m rambling.” So much for restraint.
He leaned in and gripped her chin, lightly. “I know it will not help, but you do not have anything to be nervous about.” He kissed her, a quick press of lips. “I have an idea. Do you trust me?”
“When you say it like that? I probably shouldn’t,” she grinned up at him. “But yes. Yes, I trust you.”
Mo’ata placed a soft kiss on her jaw and reached for the blindfold that was still draped around her neck, pulling it back up over her eyes.
Oh shit, followed swiftly by, I got married with a blindfold.
She tensed, but when he did nothing else, her muscles slowly eased.
“Just concentrate on what you feel. Don’t worry about what’s happening, just feel it, shopa.” A light whisper in her ear. “You tend to overthink.”
He was right. She had been trying to figure out the logistics in the back of her mind; she didn’t want to end up with a face full of armpit again. And just how big was he? Was this going to hurt like with Forrest? She’d lost her virginity, but the hymen tearing wasn’t the only possible pain. Mo’ata was a big guy. What if everything… corresponded. Would he even fit? Also, would he like the way she looked? Obviously he was attracted to her and he loved her, but sometimes that wasn’t the same…
“Stop.” His mouth met hers. His lips teased hers open, and his tongue slid in, once more tangling with hers.
Fingers slid under the hem of her shirt, caressing her stomach, and moved up in slow circles, pausing just under her breasts. His hand pressed flat, then slid around her rib cage.
So much better than cuddles.
A few tugs, and cool air hit her flesh. She sat up a little, allowing him to work her shirt up and over her head. The blindfold went askew, and she caught a look at him.
She hadn’t needed to fear. He stared at her as he had when Felix escorted her down the aisle, full of love and a little bit of awe. She sat up fully, reached back, and unclipped her bra.
His gaze zeroed in on her breasts. Maybe he liked her nipples as much as she liked his.
As if he could hear her, his eyes shot up, locking with hers. A corner of his mouth quirked up as he reached out and secured the blindfold into place, then gently pushed her back down.
The bed moved, and there was a rustle of cloth over to her right, the sound of a belt hitting the floor, and then the mattress dipped once more. Trust me, he had said. She swallowed.
He lay beside her, the heat from his body soaking into her, and she relaxed into him.
Trust me, he’d said. She did.
A light touch skimmed along her abdomen. The muscles tightened, pulled in, and he moved up to her ribs. Gone. Then back, running across her other side. Gone.
His palm cupped her breast, and she sucked in a breath, not in fear or anxiety, but anticipation. He was moving slowly, so slowly, in contrast to the earlier heat of his kiss. His hand tightened over her breast, kneading her, then moved to the other, then back to the first. He plucked at her nipple, then pinched so carefully before rolling it between two fingers.
He did it again, over and over, switching breasts until Blue wanted to scream.
Sensing this, or maybe he read it in her face, Mo’ata whispered. “Shhh. Just feel, shopa. It is my job to take care of you.” Warms lips pressed to the tip of her now tight nipple, then heat and wet engulfed it, taking it in and sucking.
The restlessness returned, and her hips rocked. She reached up, looking for him, for something to hold, and her hands encountered warm skin. She caressed it, the muscles firm and resilient under her.
She marveled again at this closeness that two people could share. She was shy, yes, but it was more the shyness of new things. For despite her determination and all her experiences with moving out of her comfort zone, that inherent shyness tended to linger and poke its head up.
As Mo’ata’s hand drifted lower, she did what she always did when the decision was made. She dived in.
Ripping the blindfold from her eyes, she grinned up at Mo’ata, who was intently focused on his own hand—tanned against the paleness of her stomach—as it traced lower. His eyes flicked up to hers, and she shrugged. He returned his attention to what he was doing, and so did Blue.
Except as his hand slid lower, so did her gaze, and she zeroed in on his lower parts.
Really? This again? Lower parts, Blue? Even caught up in admonishing herself, she still didn’t miss the way Mo’ata’s abdomen flexed or the way he kept just far enough away that his penis didn’t touch her.
His hand continued in its path toward the fastener of her pants as she studied him. He was a little larger than Forrest, she thought, but not by too much. And he looked different, a thin band of skin bunched just under the head. Was this an alien difference? She hadn’t really seen any radical differences so far, but it could be subtle thing, like this. Unfortunately, with him propped up and leaning over her, she couldn’t quite reach him at this angle…
He unlaced the tie on her pants, pulling her attention back to what he was doing, and the muscles in her belly, and lower, clenched. One by one he flicked the buttons open and spread the flaps apart. Then he skimmed his hand back up to cup her breast and leaned into her, finally pressing his cock against her upper thigh.
“I want you,” he whispered, kissing her jaw. “I want everything about you.” Another kiss on the tip of her nose. “I want your crazy ideas and your List. I want your practicality and your penny jars and your kisses and, yes, the animals. I even want the cliff jumping, provided we are wearing the proper safety gear.” He pressed his lips to hers, and she sank in.
We. That was the key, wasn’t it?
She half turned, pressing in to him. She traced her hands along his shoulders and the tattoos there. She didn’t even know what they meant. But he had agreed to tell her one thing every day. It was in the terms. She could ask later.
They had this night. And hopefully more, but that was no guarantee. She wanted to take advantage of this opportunity while she had it.
She rolled away and lifted her hips, pushing her pants down, only to find she still wore her boots. Not wanting anything between them, she hurried to unlace and slip them off. When that was done, when she was bare before her clansman, she turned back to him. They lay together, facing each other.
He pulled her in, kissing her, his hand spanning her back. It moved down, cupping her butt, and he pulled her into him, her breasts and still sensitive nipples pressing into his chest. She lifted a leg, hooking it over his hip, trying to get even closer.
The feeling was back, the tightness and the need for pressure and… she didn’t have the words. She moved aga
inst him, looking for that pressure. The hand that gripped her ass slid lower, dipping between her legs. She stiffened and then pushed her hips out, giving him better access.
Yes, it was better when she stopped thinking.
He found a spot and pressed—the same spot Forrest had skimmed over—sending a burst of sensation through her, and she moved again. She knew what this spot was, she’d read about it…
Brushing over it again, his fingers parted her. Gaze intent on her face, her reactions, he moved his thumb back to her clitoris and pressed once more. She gasped and pushed into him harder. He shifted, leaving that spot, and she whimpered. That was the only word for the sound she made.
Chuckling, he returned. Her fingers dug into his skin, her nails not quite piercing it. A touch, a swirl, and flick, repeated. Her breath came in soft pants, and she strained toward the sensation. Her head went back, and she moved against him. Teeth sank into her shoulder, not so hard as to break skin, but hard enough she felt them, and she stilled. His fingers continued to work against her.
Everything hung there. Her quick breaths, the scent of herbs overwhelming the pine, her clansman’s skin, smooth and slick with sweat, his teeth in her shoulder.
Then the pressure burst. Sensations zinged from that spot and shot to her lower belly and out, tingling through her. She sucked in a deep breath, holding it as the feelings peaked, then ebbed.
Sucking in one more breath, she hugged Mo’ata tighter. “Holy shit. We need to do that again.”
He chuckled, but it was strained. “Oh, we are not done.” He rolled to his back, his penis still erect. Looking at it, Blue felt an answering desire, a need to have him in her, filling her.
“On top?” It seemed bold, but… logical. She straddled him.
“Take your time, when you’re ready,” he said, but his expression belied his words. His face was hard, his eyes burning up at her, building the heat that had started to fade.
She gazed down at the man laid out before her. He was beautiful. She traced the tattoo on his left pec, her finger circling his nipple and then moving in, pinching. He gasped. Yup, man nipples were fun. She continued the exploration until she could see he needed more. Which was good because she now needed more as well. Her hand drifted down, gripping him.
For a Pixie in Blue (The Adventures of Blue Faust Book 4) Page 16