by Ruby Dixon
“Don’t worry about it,” she soothes with a little smile as she takes the bowl. “You can be in charge of meals when you feel better.”
“I will be more than happy to do so.” I watch her move around the cave as she tidies things. The flare of her hips is fascinating, along with the length of her legs. Her teats move slightly as she walks, though the rough tunic she is wearing hides much of her body. I bet she feels soft despite her strength. The thought makes my cock grow hard with need, and I shift uncomfortably, trying to hide my erection before she can notice it. I am wearing nothing but my loincloth, and I cannot conceal much.
At last, Kate stops moving around the cave. She gives the fire one last poke, turning over the cake of slow-burning dung to bank the fire. “Are you sure you’re warm enough without blankets?”
Will she still not invite me to her furs? I shrug. “I will be fine.” I will just have to think of a new plan in the morning and endure my night of cold weather.
She doesn’t look happy, but moves to her blankets and lies down. I lie back on my pallet, trying to get my leg comfortable. It aches with the cold, and my muscles feel stiff from disuse. I cannot wait to be able to run again. I hate sitting around all day. More than anything, I hate being helpless while Kate must work. It does not feel right.
The cave grows silent, the fire dying to flickers. Kate tosses and turns in her furs, and then she lies flat on her back and sighs up at the ceiling. “Are you cold?”
“I am fine,” I tell her, though I am now fighting to keep the smugness out of my voice. “Do not worry over me, pretty Kate.”
“Oh, shut up already. I’m coming over there with my blankets.” She sits up and begins to gather them. “We’re going to share tonight, and I’m cleaning yours first thing in the morning.”
“If you are sure…”
“I’m not going to be able to sleep otherwise. I’ll feel too guilty.” She crosses the cave and sets down the armful of thick furs, spreading them over my body. “Scoot over.”
I roll onto my side, careful to keep my bad leg away from her. Kate drops down and pulls the blankets over our bodies, then lies stiff next to me.
I prop up my head with one hand, watching her as she closes her eyes and pretends to sleep. I can tell from her quick breathing that she is not asleep. She is not even trying. I regard her, amused. Up close, her features look so delicate, her nose nothing more than a little bump on her round face. Her springy hair brushes against my arm, and I want to bury my face in it and inhale her scent.
But then she will run away for sure.
Kate cracks one eye open and peers up at me. “Why are you staring at me?”
I cannot help but grin. “I am watching you pretend to sleep. It is adorable.”
She wrinkles her little human nose up at me. “You’re an ass.”
“But I am not wrong. Is it because you are near to me? Do I make you shy?” I have not put a hand on her soft-looking skin, but oh, I want to. My tail is twitching at the mere thought.
Kate says nothing for a long moment and then opens her eyes and peers up at me again. “Maybe.”
I chuckle. “That is a yes. What would make you less shy, then?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she admits. “I’m still not used to all of this attention. It makes me feel…awkward.”
“Perhaps if we mouth-mated, it would take some of the edge off?”
She stares at me. “What? How the hell did you jump to the conclusion that kissing is the right answer?”
“Because you are nervous. If we practice mouth-mating, there will be nothing left to be nervous about, will there?”
“Uh, one really obvious thing.”
“I did not think you were ready for truly mating. I promise it has not even crossed my thoughts this evening.” My cock, however, aches in anticipation.
She eyes me skeptically and gives a little wiggle. Her breathing is speeding up. “The thought of kissing you scares me a little,” she admits.
“Why?” I am puzzled by this.
Kate bites her lip, and I nearly groan aloud at the sight of her teeth on that plump, pink skin. “What if I’m not good at it? What if you don’t like kissing me?”
“Have you never mouth-mated before?”
“Well, yeah, but that was years ago when I was a kid! I haven’t kissed anyone since puberty made me shoot up another foot.” She looks embarrassed. “What about you?”
“I have never tried it. But I do not worry I will be bad at it. Nor do I think you will be bad at it.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” She sounds so sad.
“I know that mouth-mating to you will be good,” I tell her. “I know it will be good because it will be with you.”
Her lips part, and she stares up at me. “That might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she whispers.
“I mean every word of it.” And because she is so near and so tempting, I reach out and brush a strand of her curly, wild hair off of her face and let my fingertips trace her jaw. “But if it makes you nervous, we will not do it.”
She closes her eyes and tilts her head toward me, just a little. “That feels nice.”
All of my jokes, my humor, they have disappeared in the face of her beauty and her vulnerability. “May I touch you, then?” She gives me a little nod, and I explore her face with my fingers. Her skin is just as soft as I have imagined, the texture different than mine. Her cheek is round and full, unlike my own bony face with the hard ridges on my brow and my sharp cheekbones. She is soft everywhere. Her eyes remain closed as I touch her, but her full lips part, and I cannot help but brush the tips of my fingers along them as well. They are even softer, and I did not think that possible.
She shivers, just a little.
“I find you beautiful, pretty Kate,” I murmur to her. “I could gaze at you for hours and never grow tired of it.” I let my fingers skim along her jaw, then down the soft line of her throat. “But I admit that it makes me want to put my mouth on yours.”
“Does it?” She’s breathless.
“More than anything.” I do not, though. I want her to want it as much as me. I continue to explore her, stroking my fingers up and down her arm and then leaning closer to her so I can inhale her sweet scent. She gives a quiet little gasp when my nose brushes against hers, body tensing.
But I only nuzzle her nose with mine and then caress her cheek again. “Would you like to touch me as well, pretty Kate?”
She looks shy and chews on that full lower lip again. “I don’t know. I do, but…”
“There is no one here but you and me. I shall never tell another if you decide I am not manly enough for you.”
Kate giggles, and the sound is sweet to my ears. “Thank goodness. I was so worried about that,” she teases, and when I clutch my chest as if wounded, her laughter escalates. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re ever serious, Harrec.”
“Only when I must,” I admit with a grin. “But I am very serious about how much I like you.”
Her smile is slow to cross her face, but lovely to see. “I like you, too,” she says quietly. “Please don’t hurt me, all right?”
“Hurt you?” I frown at that, trying to imagine how. “With my lips?”
Her laughter peals out across the cave. “No, ding-a-ling. Hurt me by lying to me.”
She calls me dingaling. I wonder if it is a name of affection. I like it; it sounds musical. “Why would I ever lie to you, my sweet dingaling?”
Her brows go down, and then she snorts with muffled laughter. “Now you’re trying to distract me, aren’t you? I’m being serious, though.” Her chuckles die, and she gives a little sigh. “It’s just that every time I liked someone in the past, it was…it didn’t turn out well. Kids can be cruel.” She looks sad. “I got teased a lot in high school because for a while I was taller than all the girls and all the boys, and so I was picked on a lot. Sometimes the boys would pretend to like me and then go back to their friends and laugh about ho
w I fell for their stupid joke.”
I do not understand half of what she is telling me, but I know the gist behind it. “I would never make a joke of you to others.” The very thought makes me sick. To have a female’s affection? To have her join you in the furs as a pleasure-mate? There is no greater gift, save that of resonance itself.
“I know. I know things are different here and people aren’t like that. But when you tease me, it makes me think of that sort of thing, and I worry that you don’t really like me. That you’re just making fun of me.” Her hand slides to my chest, right over my heart. “I guess it feels too good to be true.”
“Know that even if I am a hunter who can be foolish at times, I would cherish everything you would give me.” I put my hand over hers. “And if I say or act a certain way, it is because I am addicted to your laughter.”
Her mouth curves up at the corners. “I like yours, too. And I like your smile.” Her hand goes to my face, and she touches my cheek, imitating what I did to her a brief moment ago. “I like a lot of things about you.”
“Like the way I taste?”
Her grin widens. “I haven’t tasted you yet.”
“Then clearly you are missing a great experience. Shall we mouth-mate and I can prove it to you?”
Kate laughs. “One-track mind much?”
“My mind has many tracks, but they all lead right back to you.”
Her eyes grow soft, and her gaze flicks to my mouth. Her lips part slightly, and I decide that this is my moment. Perhaps she will not ask because she is too uncertain. She can slap my face away if she must, but I have to taste her lips.
She makes a breathless little sound as my mouth grazes hers, but then she presses her lips firmly back to mine, and I am pleased. I hold still as I let her take the lead in the mouth-mating. She has done this before, so surely she must be knowledgeable. Her lips brush against mine, and she presses them softly against my lower lip and then my upper one, over and over again. It is fascinating, and I can smell her delicate scent, feel her skin against mine, her body pressed up to my own. It is not exciting, but it is very pleasant, and I see why humans do it all the time.
But then…the tip of her tongue touches my mouth.
And I am the one left gasping.
We break apart and she cringes. “Was that bad? I’m sorry—”
Was it bad? How can she possibly think her mouth on mine is bad? I do not want to hear her worries. They are unfounded. I bury my hand in her mane and press my mouth back to hers again, silencing her. She makes a little noise and then yields to me, parting her lips. I stroke my tongue into her mouth, eager to explore her.
The taste of Kate is maddening, like nothing I have ever had before. I want to growl with need…but I cannot stop kissing her. My tongue strokes against hers, and I realize she is soft here, too. There are no ridges like on my tongue, and I find this fascinating and perfect all at once. She moans into my mouth when my tongue caresses hers, and I must be doing mouth-mating right, because it has gone from pleasant to incredible. My cock strains against my loincloth, desperate to sink inside her. I want to claim her as mine. I want to taste every bit of her skin.
Mine.
My pretty Kate. All mine.
Her tongue touches mine, tentative, and I lick at it, wanting her to know that I need more of this. Need more of her. I could drag my tongue over hers for hours and never get my fill of touching her like this, of pleasuring her with my tongue. The soft noises she makes are making me as wild for her as her taste. Over and over, we kiss and mate with our mouths, until we are both breathless.
When I finally raise my head from hers, Kate’s eyes are gleaming in the low light of the cave, and I can see her mouth is shiny and wet, swollen from my caresses. I groan and bend down to nip at her lip, unable to resist. “So perfect.”
“Harrec,” she breathes. “That was…amazing.”
It was. I decide that I need her mouth like I need air. I kiss her again, stroking my tongue over the softness of her lips. “Are you tired?”
She whimpers. “Of kissing? No.”
I grin into the dark to hear that. “No, I meant, are you sleepy? Should I let you rest?”
“Oh.” A little breathless giggle escapes her. “No, I think I’d like to kiss some more.”
I do not have to be asked again. I lower my mouth to hers.
8
KATE
The next morning, I’m in a toe-curlingly good mood as I head out into the fresh snow to look for more dung chips. Dvisti seem to be plentiful on this side of the glacier, and though I haven’t hunted one, I’m grateful they’re here because it makes picking up more fuel an easy task. I pick one up with a glove that I’ve designated as my “chipping” glove and drop it into my fuel bag, slung over my shoulder. There’s a ton to do today—as there is every day—but I’m humming to myself as I slog through the snow.
I slept like a baby last night. Well, once I got to sleep. I giggle to myself, feeling a bit naughty. Harrec and I kissed for what felt like hours, and it was…well, it was incredible. I wasn’t sure if he’d be a good kisser given that he’d never done it before, but one stroke of that ridged tongue against mine and I practically orgasmed. That was shocking and addicting all at once. We never made it past kissing, though, and Harrec seemed content to just make out. His hands didn’t even travel.
That was sweet, but also made me crave more.
By the time we’d finished kissing, I was needy, breathless, and unsatisfied. My mouth was bruised, but I still wanted more. I dreamed about Harrec—all dirty dreams—and woke up with my body spooned against his, his breath ruffling my hair, and his arm around my waist. I let him sleep, sneaking out to get started on the day’s chores, but I keep thinking about tonight. Are we going to kiss more tonight? Gosh, I hope so. I pick up another dung chip from the ground and then pause. Maybe I should deliberately leave us low on fuel again so we have to cuddle once more… I strike that idea down immediately. It’s stupid to risk safety just because I’m afraid to ask a guy to snuggle with me. I just need to be braver, to ask for what I want. But gosh, that is hard.
For so long, I’ve been that storky, too-tall girl. The one who isn’t even lucky enough to be model skinny or model pretty. The one with big shoulders and strong thighs and looks like she should play football. No one ever asks that girl out. No one pays attention to her unless they need someone to be the butt of a joke. Harrec’s focused attention on me is so flattering and wonderful, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for reality to step in and tell me no, you don’t get this after all.
Troubled by my thoughts, I finish collecting the dung chips and head back toward the cave. The suns are out today, and it feels warmer than it has for the past few days. I suppose that means we can leave once Harrec’s leg is healed. I have mixed feelings about that. Part of me wants to stay, but part of me also feels vulnerable and worried at being left behind without anyone knowing where we are. There’s safety in numbers, and Harrec recently broke his leg. We got lucky, but it doesn’t mean we’ll always stay lucky.
But after last night’s kiss-a-thon, it’s hard to imagine leaving so soon. I want to stay and flirt a little longer.
Oh, who am I kidding? I just want to make out some more.
I’m distracted when I enter the cave, and I don’t see Harrec until I step inside fully, and then I’m being kissed with wild, ferocious abandon. Harrec’s lips are on mine, and his tongue strokes into my mouth before I can say a peep. Then I forget about saying a thing, because I’m too busy enjoying the kisses. I moan as he licks against my tongue, the movement filthily sensual and as wonderful as it is wet. If I had panties, they’d be sopping at this moment. He’s far too good at kissing.
“Come sit by the fire,” he murmurs between kisses. “Let me warm you.”
I whimper because my mind goes to all kinds of dirty places at that invitation. It’s not until he takes a limping step backward that I realize he’s walking around, that he actually go
t up to meet me at the entrance to the cave. “Your leg,” I protest.
It takes me another moment to realize he’s naked. Well, no, not completely naked; he’s wearing the bandages on his leg. That’s it.
“Um, Harrec? Should I go?” I half-shield my eyes from his nudity, even though I really want to look. “Did I interrupt something private?”
“Go? Why?” He glances down at his naked body and then back up to me. “I did this for you.”
“You what?” I squeak out. He might be moving a little faster than I expected.
“Yes,” he says, smiling broadly as he takes my gloved hand. He wrinkles his nose and then frowns, dropping it. “Fuel collecting?”
“Don’t change the subject,” I tell him, and my voice is all high and wobbly. But gosh darn it, he’s really, really naked, and I can tell just by looking down—even though I’m trying really hard not to—that he’s aroused. “I don’t even know if you should be on your leg, much less on your leg and naked.”
He looks down again, then up at me. “Have you never seen a naked male before?”
“Well, yes I have, actually.” I had the internet back at home, and cable. “But I…” I glance down again and suck in a breath because his anatomy looks, uh, different. “What the fuck is that?”
Harrec chuckles. “I am surprised you have not seen such things around the bathing pool back at the village. That,” he says proudly, and leans forward to whisper to me, “is my cock.”
I want to smack a hand to my forehead. “Not that, you ding-a-ling!” I start to point, and then stop myself because I don’t put it past Harrec to grab my hand and give me a guided tour. “The thing above it.”
“My spur?”
“What the heck is a spur?” How did I miss this in conversation? Have I just not been asking the right questions? He’s right in that I tend to avoid the bathing pool the moment someone starts to undress. Maybe it’s the awkward girl inside me, but I’m not comfortable when strangers start stripping down. Obviously I’ve been missing out on a few anatomy lessons. I feel like I need to smack Georgie, and Elly, and Gail for not saying a thing about the anatomy differences.