It’s a little weird. Way more intimate than I would’ve wanted, but I’m too hungry to say anything, and I bite into the next berry.
“Mmm,” I say. “Thank you.”
“I like when you make that noise, Ni-Kee.” The knuckle of his thumb brushes against my lips again. His gaze devours me. I avert my eyes, slightly overwhelmed with both his proximity and his intensity. The leaf full of berries dangles against his hip, his hard cock bulging in his pants.
“I think I can feed myself,” I tell him. I need to put a stop to this.
“It brings me pleasure to feed you,” he says, a low growl in his throat. “You said you gave me permission to court you. Let me court you.” His thumb brushes against my lips again, and I open my mouth, warring with the instinct to tell him no.
I did tell him I’d let him court me. As far as courting practices go, this one is fairly tame… other than the fact that heat’s beginning to spiral through me.
It reminds me of begging him for his cock in my mouth, and the heat blazes into lust at the memory, then shame.
“I think I need to feed myself right now.”
“Do humans not take care of their mates? Why do you resist me?” He growls the question, clearly frustrated.
“Draz, listen.” Equally exasperated, I sigh. “I think you’re a good guy. A good Suevan. But I just…what just happened with the snails made me embarrassed. I need a minute to recover.”
“You are embarrassed because you orgasmed three times in my arm, when your delicious juices drenched my stomach and made my cock grow painfully hard?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wincing. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”
“Is it unusual for your people to come so many times?”
This conversation is getting out of control. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself in the moment, in the cacophony of the alien jungle all around us, the thunderous crashing of the waterfall.
When I don’t answer, he puts pressure on my lips, and hungry but annoyed, I take the next berry in my mouth and chew it.
“Suevan females only come once, when they are breedable.”
I cough, choking on the berry. “When they are what now?”
“When they are able to ripen with child.”
“Ripen with child.” I shake my head, and Draz leans closer, his long hair tickling against the tops of my breasts.
“Do you orgasm because you are ready to be filled with seed?”
My nose wrinkles. “Can you not call it that?”
“Orgasm?”
“Seed!”
“What is wrong with seed?”
“It’s just… I don’t know, it sounds gross.”
“There is nothing gross about the pleasure my seed will bring you.”
“Draz, it’s not the pleasure that bothers me, it’s the word seed.”
“So you admit you want me to bring you pleasure?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Humans are a strange species. You are shy about your body and about mating, are you not?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting for patience. “Yeah, I mean, I guess so.” I gesture to him. “But look at you, you are covered in scales. Your body is a work of muscled art, and you can withstand anything. Mine isn’t. Humans have to cover up because otherwise we’ll get hurt.”
“You think my body is art?” He puffs up a little, grinning down at me.
I can’t help but laugh at his pleased expression. “I think that my skin isn’t as resilient as yours.”
His grin fades, and his big hands bracket my rib cage. I freeze, and he turns me sideways.
Inspecting the blisters.
“This is too true, my little human. But if you think these luscious curves are not the work of an artist, then I will do all in my power to disabuse you of this notion.” His hands skate higher, towards the curve of my breasts, and whatever I’m about to say dies in my throat.
I start to arch into his touch even as his hands fall away.
“Here, my mate. If you are more comfortable feeding yourself, then I will find another way to take care of you.” He hands me the leaf pouch of berries, stalking away, his tail lashing like crazy behind him, whipping into plants and rocks.
My thoughts tumble over each other, and I pop a handful of fruit into my mouth, trying to find a position to sit in that doesn’t hurt. The zoleh makes a whining noise, and blinks up at me with a multitude of wide eyes.
“Here,” I tell it, scattering some berries on the rock. It pushes its head against my hand, forked tongue darting out. “Maybe this will help your breath.”
My eyes narrow, and at the thought, I bring one hand up to my mouth, huffing into it.
Slowly, I lower my hand. Why am I testing my breath?
It doesn’t matter if my breath smells!
I’m not kissing the big alien.
Nope. I’m not even thinking about kissing Draz.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DRAZ
Niki’s wounds trouble me. The blisters weep clear pus down her sides, and I can tell from the way she squirms, they are painful.
She has not complained, not once. She is brave, this human warrior of mine.
And stubborn.
My mate wants me, I can scent it on the air. Yet she holds back—why? She is already mine. I grind my teeth, pacing on the lake shore as she sits quietly on the rock, chewing the sweet berries I gathered for her.
This would be much easier if she would simply acknowledge her desire for me. I would make her want no other male after our first mating, I am sure of that. And her feelings for me, her respect and admiration, would grow in time.
Palming the hard length of my cock, I loose a slow exhalation. The cock I need to stop thinking with. I am courting her. I am doing this right, and I must be patient.
I have always been patient. That is how I was able to rise in the Suevan warrior ranks, how I was able to claim victory over many adversaries.
I chance a glance at Ni-Kee from over my shoulder. Her body is overwhelmingly erotic, so lush and different than the Suevan females. She’s so responsive already, every flush of blood telegraphed through her creamy, spotted skin.
Grunting, I steal another look. Her hair is unruly, a tumbled tangle around her shoulders. That will not do. It will be uncomfortable if she does not take care of it, as fine and soft as it is.
Silt from the lakeshore sticks to my feet. Huge footprints fill with water as I tread to where my mate sits, eating quietly. There is no brush to be had, but it does not matter. I will use my talons, grateful they can be of use for something gentle instead of simply rending flesh from my enemies.
Slowly, so as not to startle either her or the zoleh still perched in her clothing, I settle behind her.
“I am going to detangle your hair,” I tell her, leaving no room for argument. “It will knot and snarl if you leave it like this. The jungle will not be kind to it, and I fear it will become bothersome.”
She peeks over the sensuous curve of her shoulder at me, her lips stained red with the juice of the berries.
My cock is so hard I fear I may spill over my trousers if she so much as moves her mouth.
Thankfully, she turns back around, muscles in her jaw moving as she chews.
“You would do that? For me?” she finally asks. There’s longing in the question, and it gives me pause.