The breath hisses out from between my teeth. This is too much. I can’t help myself; slowly, I rub my cock against her. The feel of her smooth skin against mine is like nothing I’ve felt before, and my cock aches so badly I could scream.
Instead of pushing me away like I expect, she moans softly. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders, and she hooks one leg around my thigh, dragging it between hers.
“Har-loh,” I groan. I can feel the vibrations in her chest. I know they mean something, that we are connected somehow, but the only thing going through my mind is the need to claim her. To make her mine. I grip her against me and drag my aching cock over her belly. I’m leaving wet trails on her skin, but I don’t care. If she’s not going to push me away, I’ll seek release.
To my surprise, she nuzzles against my neck and gently bites down on my skin.
I explode; I can’t help it. My sac tightens to the point of pain and then my cock unleashes a sticky torrent on her body. I seem to spurt forever, unable to get the image of Har-loh’s little teeth biting down on my neck out of my mind. It’s the most erotic thing I can possibly think of.
But now I’ve gotten her all wet with my spend. Vaguely ashamed, I ignore the singing vibration of my chest and her clinging arms. I reach between us and find a sticky pool on her skin.
“Sokay,” she breathes. “Happens.”
I don’t know her words but her voice is gentle. She reaches between us with a corner of her clothing and cleans her stomach and my hand, and then flings it aside. She burrows down against me again and my chest thrums with pleasure. I don’t understand what just happened between us…but I liked it. I liked it too much.
And…Har-loh didn’t seem to hate it, either.
Her small hand – no longer ice cold – touches mine. She tugs on my fingers, and I let her guide me. When she pushes my hand between her thighs, I suck in a breath. She is hot and wet here. She’s wet like I am when I am aroused. Is she aroused? Does she like it when I touch her? Tentatively, I brush my fingers over her body, exploring her. There is a patch of hair here, which strikes me as unusual. Her scent washes over me, though, and my cock stirs again. This is the scent of her arousal. I recognize it, and I want more of it. My fingers feel big and clumsy as I continue to touch her, learning her body. Underneath the tangle of curls, her soft skin parts, and she has wet, slick folds. Har-loh likes for these to be touched, I think, because she rubs up against me and moans. I want more of her moans, so I keep touching and exploring. She’s so very wet; her scent is everywhere, permeating my skin. There is nothing that has ever smelled finer to me. I want to pull my hand to my mouth and lick it clean of her, to taste her.
But she takes my hand and guides it again, to a little bump between her folds. And she uses my finger to gently circle around it, then stops.
Is she…showing me what she likes? I mimic the motion. Immediately, her nails dig into my shoulders, and she cries out. “Rukh!”
I growl, because the sound of her is making me wild all over again. My cock throbs and fills with blood, hardening again. I touch her bump again, but it doesn’t get the same reaction. I try a few different touches before I realize that she likes it when I circle it gently. I do that, and she jerks against me, crying out.
I want more of those responses from her. So I keep touching and stroking her just the way she likes, and a few moments later, she shudders against me, her leg locking around my thigh, and I feel a surge of wetness coat my hand. She has had her release, too. I’m fascinated. I was too young when my father died for him to tell me of men and their mates, but I have vague memories of his stories, and how things should be.
Her scent coats my hand and I raise it to my nose and inhale deeply. It’s sweet and musky at the same time, and it makes my mouth water. I lick my fingers—
She pushes my hand aside. “Dundoodat.”
I growl at her. Why is she depriving me of this? Of her sweetness?
But she only pats my chest. “Tmorrohwetakeabaf.”
Chapter Three
HARLOW
In the morning, I can’t even be mad at my cootie. Oh sure, I just spent the night curled around the world’s dirtiest alien barbarian, but I was warm and slept better than the night before.
Plus, you know, I taught him about petting. It’s weird that I feel proud of that, but I’m starting to figure out a few things about Rukh. He doesn’t really grasp what clothes are. He doesn’t grasp a lot of his own language, and he sure doesn’t know what I am. I’m not even sure he understands what it means that we are both resonating to each other. He might not even know about sex.