Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
F’lor’s mouth opens, and then she closes it, biting back her words. “I should get my gathering bag.”
“Where is it?” She does not move, and I find I am reluctant to do so, as well. I cannot stop looking at her. Breathing in her scent.
“Near the cliff.” F’lor pauses and then makes a small, wordless sound and then turns, presenting me with her back. “M-my leathers are caught in my belt. Can you fix them for me?”
I grunt and then grab the poncho she has hanging over her back and pull it off, tossing it aside.
Her breath hitches, as if my actions were unexpected, and it seems she is as aware of me as I am of her. My movements feel slow, as if I am underwater, and I watch as my hand reaches out for her belt. Her leather tunic is caught against her belt, and the belt itself is twisted. It is a simple action to work it free and smooth her clothing for her.
But my blood roars in my ears.
I can think of nothing but F’lor and her maddening scent. F’lor and her pretty mouth and her soft skin. F’lor and the curve of her bottom as I reach for her leathers. She seems to lean in to me when I touch her clothes, and instead of placing my hand on the snag of her tunic, I place my hand upon her buttock.
F’lor whimpers. Her eyes flutter closed and she sucks in a breath. In the next moment, she pushes her bottom back against my hand, a not-so-subtle gesture that my touch is welcome.
A groan escapes me and I bend over her. She is tiny compared to me, her head only reaching the top of my chest, but that means I can envelop her against me, and I do so now. I wrap my arms around her, burying my face against her neck and taking another deep breath of her scent.
So perfect. So maddeningly perfect.
Mine.
I realize in that moment that my mate is in front of me after all. F’lor makes another soft whimper, turning her face towards mine.
I will not waste this moment—not like R’jaal would. Just thinking of him sends another possessive, furious flare through my veins. With a groan, I turn her in my arms until we are facing one another. I cup her face and tilt it up, claiming her mouth. I slick my tongue against hers, my movements hungry and ferocious.
This maddening female wraps her arms around my neck and sucks on my tongue.
I growl low in my throat as she hitches one leg around my waist, and then the other. F’lor is in my arms and I stagger towards the nearest rocks, looking for some way to support my balance so I do not have to let go of her. There is nothing nearby but a few jagged cliffs, and I cannot rut her against sharp, piercing rocks. I drop to my knees in the soft snow and mate her mouth again, my tongue deep and hungry against hers.
She tugs at my leathers, dragging my belt free from my loincloth. “Now,” she begs. “Now, now now.”
Yes. Now. The blood rushing through my veins will not let me go slow, will not let me be soft and gentle. Her need sings through her as hot as mine, and I yank at her leggings, hauling them down her legs. They snare at her hips, and with another angry growl, I get out my knife and cut delicate laces and ties until they fall from her body.
F’lor only lets out a throaty sound and grabs my tail. “Inside me,” she demands, panting. “I want you inside me. Now.”
I have never done this before, but somewhere in the haze of my blurred, hungry thoughts, I recall everything A’tam has said, every comment U’dron has made about his mate. Wet. She must be wet or it will hurt her. I slide my hand against her folds, and the breath hisses from my lungs.
By all the ancestors, she is so hot and so very wet. I have never felt anything so incredible.
With another groan, I kiss her harder, then lift my mouth from hers and brace a hand next to her head. My other hand guides my cock into the waiting spread of her cunt, and then I am sinking into her. It is…indescribable. I keep expecting there to be resistance, but her cunt is hot and tight and so, so perfect around my cock. She is small, but I go slow, instinct telling me to make small, rocking motions with my cock until I can seat myself fully inside her.
F’lor’s mouth is parted, her lashes fluttering as I drive into her. Nails dig into my backside and then my hips, and I realize she is lifting her body to meet my every thrust, to increase the friction between us.