by Sabrina Kade
“Will tasting you here hurt?”
She shakes her head. Hard. She lifts her head off the ground. “I have an inkling it will be incredible. Please, Dolan.”
I will deny her no longer. It’s not like I could resist anyway. Not with her spread before me at last. I lean in closer, dragging my tongue from the bottom to the top of her slit, lapping the juices like a man starved in the fiercest part of the frosty region. Somehow, she tastes better than she smells, and I will always recognize this as belonging to my mate. I move my hand up to her soft belly, caressing her as I continue to explore her folds. She is so sensitive. Bucking and squealing as I fuck her gently with my mouth.
My mind is no longer on the cold. The rain. My weakness. There is only Layla, crying out for me and fisting my short hair as though I am the only one to keep her from floating into the skies.
Perhaps, I am.
My touch grows rougher as I continue wanting more and more. It’s incredible. I lap her juices, and more appear. I lap her again, and more juices appear. Her taste is sweet and creamy, and a bit smoky. This is the taste of my Layla. I delve deeper and deeper, allowing my tongue to roughly brush against the nub that gives her so much pleasure. Layla screams this time. Not a squeal. Not a moan. She screams my name.
Perhaps I have gotten the wrong spot?
I jerk upward, searching her face. “It is not like the curls, yes?”
She shakes her head again. “No, Dolan,” she pants. “It’s good. Please. Don’t stop. That feels incredible…”
“No pain?”
“No!” She pulls hard on the ends of my hair so I can refocus on her pussy and seeing Layla so aggressive, I moan and feast on her more than before. I’m no longer gentle. Perhaps she doesn’t like it gentle unless when it comes to her curls. That is fine with me. I am impatient to keep tasting different parts of Layla. Figuring out the best parts of her cunt, and places that will make her scream and crazed.
I enjoy this wild side of her.
I want more. So much more.
I go harder and deeper inside of her, working my tongue to its maximum length so I can fill every nook and cranny here. If Layla is not ready to let me fill her with my cock, I will fill her this way. I do not mind. She bucks and cries out, pulling harder and harder on my hair. It feels amazing. I love Layla being rough like this. I’ve always thought humans were fragile, little things, but Layla is nothing close to that at this moment. She is strong. Needy. Beautiful. Sexy. Insatiable.
“Oh… oh,” she cries out. “Almost… almost…”
Almost? And then it hits me. Layla is close. I can’t help smirking with my mouth buried in her pussy, hissing almost there against her clit to prove I’m right. Her body jerks. She lets out a sound that isn’t a scream because her throat sounds raw. It’s guttural. The grip in my hair grows more painful only for a moment before her hands stiffen and fall away. They land with a dull thud and Layla’s entire body falls limp. She’s gasping hard and realizing that she must be spent, I stop assaulting her pussy. I could keep going, but I don’t want to push her too hard. She has sucked upon my cock. She has allowed me to taste her cunt.
That is enough.
I lift my head entirely away from her intoxicating scent, but not without one last slow lick, leaving her shivering.
“Dolan, you’re going to kill me.”
“I would never.” I smile to myself, crawl to her side, lay down and stare at the tired, pleased expression on her face. Despite the chill washing over, despite the suns high in the air, I need her. I love how Layla is always so warm. I find it fascinating that despite her small size, and soft curves, she is not bothered by this chilly climate. I all but nuzzle into her hair, wrapping my arms around her neck so that I can pull her naked body closer to mine. I shiver, and I’m surprised when Layla squirms.
“Dolan? You all right?” she asks from under my chin.
“I tasted the essence of my mate. I am more than all right.”
Her body grows warmer at my words, but she still doesn’t appear satisfied. My mate is bothered by something. Maybe she regrets what we did?
“It’s just…” she pulls away, fixing me with her dark brown eyes, “… you’re cold.”
I freeze up. “Cold?”
“Yeah. I mean, it can’t be in the sixties, but you’re freezing. Maybe you should put your clothes on again?”
I frown, hating the idea of covering my body. I want Layla’s skin directly against mine, not blocked by some fabric from the fatherland. I try to squeeze her back closer to me. “Your warmth is the only warmth I need,” I say softly.
She continues to squirm. “I’m serious, Dolan. You’re cold. You’re making me cold. If you’re not going to put clothes on, I’m going to if I’m going to lay here against you.”
I allow her to move, but I can’t help wondering if maybe she’s right. I am a little chillier than I’d like to be. I was so focused earlier with Layla sucking my cock and lapping up her folds that I didn’t think about the weather too much. But now that our pleasure is complete, I realize that this temperature is not ideal. I shoot my attention overhead, narrowing my eyes at the sky.
“It is not as warm as I thought it would be.”
“And that’s why you should put on some clothes, Mr. Manly-Man.”
I’m barely able to get a word out when a bunch of fabric strikes me squarely in the nose, and Layla bursts out into laughter. I grab the material, yank it away and try shooting her a menacing look, but her smile only grows more full, her laughter louder.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps. “You look so serious, Mr. Manly-Man.”
“What is this?” I hiss. “This Manly-Man? What is it?”
“It’s a nickname. I think it’s perfect for you.”
I don’t care for it. My name is Dolan, and that is the name I want Layla to call me. That’s what I want her to shout when I make her scream when my face is buried between her thighs. But I do not say this to her. Things are going so well. I don’t want to mess anything up. Besides, I’m tired. I should not use energy to argue about a name. I tug the clothing over my head and stand up, feeling a bit shaky after spending so much time on that cold rock. It’s damp with our juices.
“We should set up camp for the night.”
“We’re not going to sleep, are we?” Disappointment crosses her features before I point above my head.
“The suns are still high. We can hunt feichkas and explore the waterfalls or…” I smirk, drawing closer to her, “… I can explore your cunt again.”
“Oh, Dios mío, Dolan!” she squeals, punching me hard in the chest. “Don’t be gross. But I do agree with you; we should probably set up camp for the night. That way, if it storms, we’ll have someplace to go.”
I nod in agreement, and she moves away, but when her words finally register in my brain, and I’m no longer staring at her swaying hips, I lunge forward and grab her arm. She spins back to me, not hurt, only surprised and demands to know what my deal is.
“Storm? Did you say storm?” Dread crawls up my spine as Layla points overhead.
“Can’t you tell? Feels like a storm to me. Look at the clouds.”
I swallow hard, refusing to allow worry to settle in completely. Prince Korben and Azan both informed me that the weather would be all right for travel, but Layla isn’t incorrect when I look at the sky. The clouds are a darker purple than I’d care to see, and they’re hovering in our direction. I grab Layla’s arm completely and tug her away from the shelter of the talas so I can have a clear view above us, and swallow hard.
“That’s storm weather, all right,” Layla notes easily. Far too easily. Does she not understand what a storm means? The temperature will drop. The sky will grow dark. Rain will fall. None of these things are good for me. Perhaps that explains why my stomach’s churning. It is not only the sweet scent of Layla’s cunt but my body trying to tell me that something awful is headed our way.
I don’t want Layla to know how weak I shall be.
I can’t let her know. Somehow, I have to fight through this.
After everything she’s given to me, I will not lose her over a thunderstorm. I will build the shelter, and we shall spend the night there. All will be well.
Thunder rumbles violently in the distance.
All has to be well.
***
Layla continues to observe me closely as the suns fall behind the talas. She is worried about me, and I cannot stand that my Chosen has to waste such feelings on me. I have Chosen her. I should be the one worrying about her. I should be the one taking care of her. And though she doesn’t offer much help when I set up the shelter, she feels I am behaving differently. My movements are growing slower. My patience is thin. I can barely keep up the ruse that everything is okay.
I should tell her what’s wrong. Maybe it would only bring us closer.
Or maybe she will see it as a sign that you are not a suitable mate for her.
I hiss, wrapping more fabric around my chest in hopes of capturing more heat. There has been more distant rumbling, but for now, the weather is sunny. But the suns are going down, and the temperature continues to drop. What should have only taken me a bit of time has now dragged on into the evening. It is far too late to return to the waterfalls and catch some endalas. And poor Layla. She must be bored. Or worried. Or confused. Or bored with me. Whatever her mood, she will not leave my side.
Perhaps I should offer to pleasure her with my mouth again, but I worry I would grow tired.
“There’s lightning!” she screams, shaking my attention away from my worries. Sure enough, there’s a large, white jagged bolt of light flying through the sky and into the earth. It’s not far from us, but Layla doesn’t appear worried or frightened.
She is so brave.
“Maybe we should go to the shelter,” I mutter, dread forming a ball in the pit of my stomach. There’s heavy rain in the distance. Azan was right. Just because something isn’t likely to happen does not mean that it won’t happen. And now, I am trapped away from home without a sun rayer, and the sky is about to open up over our camp. I shiver, not waiting for Layla to respond, and crawl into the shelter, standing in the opening to keep an eye on her. I reach down and grab another layer and throw it over my shoulders, relieved for the temporary warmth.
But it won’t be enough. Not if the temperature keeps falling like this.
Layla’s expression is surprised when she spies me standing in the shelter. “Are you all right?” she calls to me.
I nod. But no, I am most certainly not all right. Wind is picking up now, violently pushing its way into the shelter. Each gust eases its way into my lungs and sets them on fire. I can barely breathe. I’m going to have to shut the shelter, but Layla’s in no hurry to return to me. Luckily though, noticing my expression, she jogs closer.
“Doesn’t look too bad,” she says, trying to smile up at me. “Might be a quick storm.” Thunder rumbles and she shudders. “Doesn’t mean it won’t be a violent one, but at least it’ll be short.” She smiles again, but I can’t meet her eyes. All I can focus on is that storm. The storm that shouldn’t have come this way. The weather should be dry, sunny and warm, and now it’s cold and about to get very wet. The wind picks up, and I cough when it works its way to my lungs once more.
“Hey, hey,” Layla says, pressing her tiny hands against my hidden chest. “What’s wrong? It’s a storm. We have plenty of these back on Earth. You don’t have to worry about me, Mr. Manly Man.” And then her expression shifts. I swear to the goddess that I see recognition there. She swallows hard, glances over her shoulder and then back to me. Her dark brown eyes are wide. “This has nothing to do with me. Dolan, you’re not scared of storms, are you?”
I frown down at her. “No. No, I am not scared.”
“Then what’s wrong?” She tries to get closer to my face, but I don’t deserve her gentle attention right now. Not when she’s about to find out how weak I am as a mate. I’m slumping, and my lungs feel like they’re on fire. “You need to sit down, Dolan.”
“I will not—”
“Sit.”
I don’t want to listen, but I don’t think I can stand for much longer either. And so I oblige, shuffle back deeper into the shelter, and fall to my knees. I’m breathing hard now. My eyelids are heavy and my chest prickles. I want to lay down. If I could close my eyes—
No. I don’t want Layla to see me at such a weak point.
She will never want me if I let her down now.
I blink hard, trying to keep it together as Layla fusses over me, but honestly, I barely understand a word she’s saying. Her words are quick and jumbled together, and she keeps wrapping more and more fabric around me and rubbing my upper arms. Oh no. She is panicking over me. I’m too weak to stop her. She glances over her head after a while, and I notice the familiar pitter-patter sound on the shelter ceiling.
It’s raining right over us.
I suck in a trembling breath.
“I’ll close the shelter,” I hear Layla say, shuffling away like a little blur I can’t quite recognize. “Dios mío, Dolan. You look awful.” She grows closer, and I try my best to focus on her face. I need an anchor. Something to keep me centered, and I lean closer, trying to brush my lips against her face.
“Oh no!” she squeaks, misinterpreting my advances. “There will be none of that.”
I almost smile. But my mouth feels broken. Layla thinks I wish to pleasure her. She’s not wrong, but there’s no way I could do anything like that now. No. I am weak. Not like Layla. Despite the wind, rain, rumbles and jagged flashes of light, she is attractive and composed. This weather does not bother her as it bothers me. Her hair is puffy at the ends, but it is not unattractive. And since she doesn’t need the layers that I do, I can still see her ample curves peeking through her tiny black top and matching shorts. Her cheeks are flushed a color a few shades darker than the rest of her face, and I fight the erotic image of licking her there. I bet she is so warm. She looks warm.
Why must she be strong where I am weak?
The storm continues to rage beyond the shelter, and I think Layla is surprised by the intensity. She mentions something about how storms like this only happen in a place called Oak-lah-home-ah, so she is not sure how long this weather will last. She continues hovering over me, rubbing my arms, and checking beyond the shelter. The process starts again. She’s rubbing my arms and checking beyond the shelter. I hate how I am too weak to hug her back. I’m barely able to fight off the urge to lay down.
Maybe if I sleep, when I wake, the storm will be over?
It is a pleasant thought. Then, I can continue pushing my boundaries with Layla.
I want to taste her again. I want her to taste me. I want to push my cock within her glistening folds.
Ugh. I am so cold that my cock will not grow excited at these images.
Agitated, I hiss under my breath.
“Dolan?” Layla spins around. “You all right? Not dead, are you?” She comes closer again, jumping when the loudest rumble shakes the ground below us. She stares at the ceiling of the shelter. “We’re around so many trees. I hope none of them fall on us.”
I frown. I didn’t even think about that. I thought Layla would prefer to be under the talas, but in a storm, that could prove to be hazardous.
I am a failure as a mate.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Layla
What am I supposed to do now?
Dolan looks like shit and won’t tell me why. It’s apparent that it has something to do with the weather, but if he won’t tell me anything, how am I supposed to make things better? How am I supposed to know if I’m able to make things better? Does he need body heat? Do we both need to strip down and huddle against each other? That always works in the movies, but Dolan’s an alien, and his skin’s like ice. It keeps getting colder and colder. There’s no way that I’d be able to do anything to help him with that. I’m warmer yes, but I’m not a fucking sun rayer.
&nbs
p; I should have asked if he packed one before we left.
I should have asked… anything. Learned something about him. How his body functions. How he operates. I know Sidyths don’t like going outside when it’s raining, so why didn’t I take any precautions? Why did I assume everything would be okay?
Ugh! I should be more used to having to be the strong one, but the sight of Dolan all but passed on the ground reminds me that I need to vag the fuck up. I’m the only other person here. There’s no Sloane. No Shep. No Exer. None of the other girls. Dammit, the workout twins would be helpful right about now. At least they know about the weather, preparing for anything, and staying in shape.
What am I supposed to do? Right now, my sharp words and my curves mean next to nothing.
I grumble under my breath when Dolan groans loudly, finally succumbing to whatever’s bothering him and sprawls out on his back on the ground. A massive, seven-foot-tall, weakened alien is before me, and the storm beyond the shelter only gets stronger. Has it stopped over our shelter? I thought this would be a fast-moving storm, but now it feels like it’s completely stopped over our tent.
Back home, I’d think about leaving the tent so we could get out from under the trees, but I don’t know anything about this planet. What if the rain is acidic? It’s unlikely, but I don’t know! It does something strange to Dolan, and I’m hella weaker than he is. Panicking, I move away from the front of the shelter to check on Dolan again. He’s shivering but breathing steadily. That has to be a good sign.
I fall to my knees. “Can you talk?”
He nods. “A little. My throat burns.” He probably can’t afford to say a lot right now, and I guess I’ll have to be okay with that. Which also means I can’t mince words.
“Tell me, Dolan. Are you sick because it’s cold?”
He nods. Dread washes over.
“Have you always known you get sick around the cold?” Another nod. “And the rain?” Another fucking nod. “So then why the hell did you want to come here? If it’s cold for you, why didn’t you tell me to shut the hell up?” My eyes water. “Why did you come here on the chance the weather could turn? You look like shit, Dolan!” He smiles up at me, and I fight the urge to punch him hard on the chest. I can’t afford to hurt him now. Thunder rumbles, and I don’t have to do the Mississippi counts to know that it’s still on top of us. I swallow hard. “Why did you come here, Dolan?”