And he won’t look at me. Instead, he shakes his head and says something that sounds like, “Sa nisok ki yemev.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what that means,” I say, brushing a finger through his mane. His hair is straight, black and coarse, and super thick. It doesn’t grow anywhere else on his body, either, which I find interesting.
He pushes my hand away, but I hear the strange purring going wild in his chest. I know he’s enjoying my touch. I just don’t understand why he won’t look at me, or why he pushes me away.
“Vektal?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”
His eyes flare with light anew, and he takes my wrist and guides my hand to the erection straining his soft breeches. Then he gives me a look as if to say you see?
Ah. I get it now. A small smile curves my mouth, and I feel rather powerful at the moment. He won’t touch me—won’t look at me—because it’s arousing him and he doesn’t want to push me into anything.
Really, for a big barbarian, he’s being the perfect gentleman.
It’s ironic because now I’m the one who wants to do more. Maybe it’s the need for comfort or the fact that I find him weirdly attractive. Or maybe it’s that my belly’s full and I feel safe for the first time in what feels like forever, but I’m in the mood. The more he tries to be noble about things? The friskier I get.
“I guess I don’t need to ask about birth control, do I?” I say to him and put a hand on his shoulder. God, I love touching him. It feels utterly decadent. “I’m not on the pill, not that it matters now. And I’m pretty sure that since we’re different species, you can’t get me pregnant.”
He watches me with narrowed eyes, as if waiting to see what I’m going to do.
“Allow me to make the first move,” I tell him softly, reaching out to undo the top laces on his unusual vest.
Vektal’s strange eyes flicker with light, and then he purrs harder than ever, his chest practically vibrating from the strength of it.
“I appreciate the rescue earlier,” I say, tugging at the laces. The fabric, a soft hide of unnatural coloration, falls away at my touch. I brush aside the knives and pouches tied to it, revealing Vektal’s broad chest and the ridges that cascade down his breastbone, between two massive, hard pectorals. “Allow me to show you how much.”
I lean forward to kiss him—
And he automatically leans away, looking at me with surprise.
“Kiss,” I say, stifling a giggle. I’d almost be offended at his expression of surprise, but I know Vektal’s not familiar with kissing. Maybe he doesn’t make love like humans do, either. The thought intrigues me.
“Kiss,” he agrees, and when I lean forward again, he doesn’t pull away.
I brush my lips over his firm mouth. His lips don’t part under mine. If anything, he’s stiff and unresponsive while I kiss him. I decide to coax him a bit more, pressing my lips to his over and over again, then nibbling on his lower lip. He doesn’t open up no matter how much I coax him, so I gently brush the seam of his mouth with my tongue.
He jerks back in surprise, eyes narrow as he gazes at me.
“Still a kiss,” I tell him. I wrap my arms around his neck. “It’s called a French kiss. It’s where tongues mate. I think you’ll like it if you’ll give me a chance.”
Vektal’s gaze remains focused on my mouth as I speak. He leans in and presses his mouth to me, quickly, and then gives me a suspicious look, as if waiting to see if I’ll correct him.
“Kiss,” I agree and press my mouth softly to his again.
When I feel his tongue brush my lips, I capture the tip of it and suck lightly.
He groans . . . and so do I. The ridges creasing his brow, his chest, his cock . . . they’re also on his tongue. I’ve forgotten about this, and I moan when I remember how it felt as he licked my pussy.
Vektal thrusts his hands into my tangled hair and holds me against him. “Kiss,” he demands again. It’s clear he wants more.
So I give him more. I lock my mouth to his and slide my tongue against that textured one, moaning again as he rubs against mine. He’s still against me, as if judging my movements. Learning them. So I brush my tongue along one of his long fangs, pleased to feel the purr in his chest escalate. When I’m breathless from kissing, I pull away from him and give him a pleased look. “How was that?”
“Kiss,” he says again, and then he takes charge. Pulling my mouth to his, Vektal begins an all-out kissing assault that leaves me utterly dazed. He nibbles and sucks at my own tongue, and then starts a slow, languid thrusting that reminds me of sex and leaves me aching with need.