9
MEGAN
I blink.
I’m getting nowhere with him. A new idea occurs to me. “Are you waiting for me to make the first
move?”
He scoffs. “Of course not.” But his gaze lands on our joined hands, and I can feel his tail twitching. There’s such aching need in his gaze that it’s baffling. It’s clear he wants me. It’s also clear that he’s stalling for some
reason…and he won’t tell me what it is.
“Do you not want to have sex with me?”
Cashol’s throat works again. “My Meh-gan, I want it more than anything.” There’s such an ache of yearning in his voice that it makes me shudder deep inside.
He must have some sort of mental hang-up about sex, I decide. Like he finds it unpleasant or dirty and doesn’t want to spoil things. I roll onto my side, releasing his hand, and he hesitates before putting his hand on his knee, almost as if he’s reluctant to let me go. He wants me. He wants this. His cootie is so loud it’s practically drowning out the drums.
“We don’t have to have sex right away,” I tell him, and lean forward. I feel like a seductress, the vixen seducing the virgin. “But I don’t like the thought of you hurting. We can help each other out, at least? Would you like that?”
I can see the war in his eyes. It’s obvious that he wants to hold back, and even more obvious that he wants me to touch him. I lift a hand and he practically strains to raise his body to it.
“You don’t have to be afraid of wanting this,” I whisper. “I’ll be gentle with you. I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Meh-gan,” he groans. “You…you do not have to touch me.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “I don’t have to do a thing.” I gently place a hand on his shoulder and push him onto his back. “But if I want to do something, will you let me?”
Cashol groans again, as if in pain. “Yes.”
I smile at him and get on my hands and knees. My hair swings forward, into my face, and I absently push it behind my ears. I grab the edge of the fur blanket covering him from the waist down and begin to peel it away, keeping my gaze locked on him. If there’s the slightest hesitation in Cashol’s eyes, I’ll stop in an instant.
But all I see is blazing lust, and utter hope. It makes me feel sexy to see how much I affect him. I feel powerful, in control, and after weeks and weeks of uncertainty, it’s the headiest feeling in the world. I’m achingly wet, too, and that just adds to my pleasure. I toss the fur aside when he doesn’t stop me, and then sit on my knees next to him, looking him over.
This is my mate.
Cashol’s body is huge, all lanky limbs that are somehow muscular and strong. He’s big and powerful, but not in a way that seems brutish or overwhelming. Just…perfect for me, really. His belly moves with his panting breaths, his stomach flat enough to show off rippling abs, and I trail my fingers down his abdomen even as I gaze lower.
His loincloth looks as if it’s at capacity. The man’s simply enormous and I’ve never seen such a large bulge.
Even knowing I had my hand on it earlier doesn’t make it seem any less huge right now. He’s rock hard and straining against the leather, and his leg muscles look tight. Even his nice feet—really nice, honestly—have curled toes, as if it’s taking all of his focus not to grab my hand and start blasting away against my grip.
And oh man, do I find that thought enticing. In fact, I’m finding all of this enticing. I’m so turned on that I can feel how wet I am just by squeezing my thighs together. Everything feels hot and slick and needy and it’s somehow the best feeling in the world. I clench my pussy even as I reach for one of the ties on his loincloth.
“Can I touch you?”
His eyes look so, so dark a shade of blue that it makes me ache. “Do you want to?”
What a silly question. Of course I want to touch him. The cootie is making sure of that. But I understand what he’s asking—he wants to make sure I’m doing this because I want to touch him, not because the cootie is making me. And while the cootie has me all amped up, there’s a heady pleasure in being the first one to touch such a big, gorgeous body. The first one to show him what it’s like when his cock is touched by a lover… and more.
I’m greedy with the thought of blowing his mind. I want to do this for him, more than anything. So I smile and tug one of the ties free. I flick the leather aside, and then his big, flushed cock is free, straining in the air, and I let out a little sigh of pleasure at the sight of it.
Ridges.
I didn’t feel that yesterday when I palmed him through the leathers—or if I did, I didn’t realize what it was I was touching. Looking at him now, I can’t stop smiling. I swear, the man’s built like a girl’s dirtiest dream. He’s
long and achingly thick, a vein tracing between the ridges that striate his cock. The head is plump and dark, wet with pre-cum, and just above his shaft rises a finger-length protrusion. The spur. Georgie has spoken enthusiastically about such things. Marlene, too. Actually, everyone has, now that I think about it. There’s not a single complainer in the bunch that’s resonated, which is a good sign.
Along with those ridges. Those ridges are a very good sign, too.
“You are staring,” Cashol says, and there’s laughter in his voice, and a hint of nervousness, too. “Is it much uglier than you are used to?”
I grin up at him. “Are you fishing for compliments? Do I need to tell you that you have a glorious dick?”
“I would enjoy hearing such things,” he admits, that playful look on his face. “You can even lie to me.”
“Oh, there’s no need to lie,” I tell him, breathless as I slide my body lower. “It’s honestly mouth-wateringly impressive.”
“Mouth-watering?” His mouth quirks, as if he’s trying to decide whether to laugh or to frown. “It makes you hungry? Do you need dinner? I am happy to feed my mate.” He looks eager at the thought.
At first I think this is more foreplay, and I get all hot and bothered. It’s only when he looks over at the tray of food that I realize…he really means to feed me, and it has nothing to do with his cock.
I tilt my head.
Is he…being clueless to be funny? Or does he genuinely not know what I mean when I say he’s mouth- watering? “I’ll eat food later,” I say specifically, and then sidle over on the floor until I’m near his big legs. I push his thighs apart, even though I really want to slide lower and stare at his feet for a few minutes. I…might have a thing for men’s feet. Big, long, muscular feet just fascinate me, and Cashol has the biggest feet I’ve ever seen, and the most perfectly formed. No, I tell myself. Save the kooky foot stuff for later, when he’s less virginal. I need to break him in easy.
And I decide I’m going to break him in with a blow job.
I sit between his legs, and when he tries to sit up, I gently push him back down again. “I said I was going to touch you, remember?”
“Yes, but…” He frowns, obviously a little stymied.
“You really are new to this, aren’t you?” I smile up at him, tracing a finger down his flat abdomen. His skin really does feel like suede, and I kind of want to just rub him all over for the tactile pleasure of it.
“I know how mating works,” he scoffs, a hint of a smile on his face. “I have seen it many times.”
“In the wild?”
“In the cave, too. My people are not ashamed to mate, and sometimes it is unavoidable to catch someone.”
He shrugs. “And hunters talk. I know all about my role.”
“Your role?” I try to stay straight-faced, but he really is cute like this. “What exactly is your role?”
“To pleasure you.” The look on his face goes from laughing to intense. “To slide my mouth between your thighs and lick your cunt until you cry out. There is no taste better than a resonance mate on a hunter’s tongue.”
My thighs clench together. Oh god, just the visual of that makes me all needy. I definitely want that. I’ve only ever met one guy that willingly went down on me—but he was a cheater and we never stayed together.
After that, it’s been dud after dud in the bed. If Cashol thinks it’s his duty to lick me to an orgasm, I am totally, completely, utterly fine with that. “Good. Then you should know I plan on doing the same to you.”
His cock jerks, fresh beads of pre-cum sliding down the head. The breath hisses from between his teeth, and all the laughter seems to die away from him. “You…you will do that to me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Humans do that to their males?”
Man, it’s a good thing I like giving head or I’d be kicking myself right now. He’s so utterly trainable. I can tell him everything I want in bed and he’ll be eager to provide it to me. Holy shit. I’ve always been the one begging for the guy to get me off, to pay a little more attention here, to touch this spot a little more, and I always felt like a bit of a beggar. I’m starting to see why everyone around here is so thrilled for resonance. It’s more than just a place to stay.
His dick is a damn sex toy and he feels morally obligated to lick pussy. This may be an ice planet, but it might also be a little slice of heaven.
I smile at Cashol. “Tell me if I do something you don’t like.”
“I do not think such a thing exists,” he admits, gaze on me as if utterly fascinated.
