Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
A different sort of warmth bloomed within Ahmya, deep in her core.
He…he couldn’t have known the effect those words would have on her. Couldn’t have known the deeper meaning they implied, couldn’t have known how much she wanted them to come true.
As he guided her hands aside and pulled the silk away from her chest, baring her breasts, that warmth spread outward. Her wet skin prickled in the open air, and her nipples, already hard from the cold, tightened further into aching buds.
Rekosh had grown very still. She could feel him staring at her, could feel his eyes like a branding iron upon her skin. A shiver stole through Ahmya as his fingers flexed around hers. With a shuddering inhalation, she slowly tipped her head back and looked at him.
He was staring—at her breasts. His head was tilted to the side, and curiosity shone in those crimson eyes. But there was something more in them. Something wickedly dark and primal.
Hunger.
Arousal curled low in her belly. Though her skin warmed in embarrassment, Ahmya didn’t look away from him or attempt to shield herself as he draped her silk top over a nearby rock. He raised that hand back toward her.
Her heart quickened. She understood what he was doing as his hand inched nearer, and still, she made no attempt to stop him. Some part of her yearned for it—for his touch, for him—and maybe she’d silenced that part of herself for too long. Maybe she’d left it unfed for too long.
His fingers brushed along the side of her breast. Those whispers of callused heat were followed by the gentle stroke of his thumb across her nipple.
A startling, powerful jolt of pleasure swept through her. Ahmya flinched back with a gasp.
Heat unlike anything she’d ever felt pooled between her thighs, making her pussy pulse. What she felt was pure, unadulterated desire. Though Rekosh’s touch had been light, her nipple throbbed.
Rekosh snatched his hands back with an uncertain trill, eyes going wide. “I hurt you?”
Ahmya crossed her arms over her chest, pressing firmly to alleviate the aching in her breasts, and shook her head. “N-no. You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay.”
“Okay,” he echoed, mandibles twitching as he regarded her. “But you moved like I hurt you.”
God, he was hurting her, but not in the way he thought.
“I…was just surprised.” She squeezed her thighs together, wishing the sensation would go away and free her of this torment. How could something as simple as a thumb brushing her nipple instill her with such lust?
Because it was him .
Even when she touched herself, she never felt anything nearly as potent as that one little caress.
“You didn’t hurt me,” Ahmya said. “I promise. I’m just…just cold. ”
A low hum rumbled from him. He skimmed his knuckles over her cheek. “But your skin is red and warm.”
A nervous laugh bubbled from her. “Humans don’t usually feel comfortable being naked around others, remember?”
“Ah.” He dipped his chin in a shallow nod. His lower hands settled on her hips, one catching the knot of her skirt and pulling it loose. “But you will feel better without wet silk, and I am not others. I am Rekosh.”
Her heart thundered as he unwrapped the silk skirt from around her waist. He drew it away, and cold air blasted her fully naked body. She curled her fingers into her shoulders. Besides Ivy, Callie, Lacey, and Ahnset, she’d never stood naked before anyone who wasn’t a medical professional.
But it was different with Rekosh. There was something thrilling about being vulnerable and exposed in front of him. Something thrilling in the way his crimson eyes moved over her body. She trembled, and the arousal in her core intensified.
Rekosh took in a slow, deep breath that tapered off into a barely audible growl. His claspers shifted, drawing tight against his slit, and Ahmya’s blush blazed across her whole body, from head to toe.
He knows. He knows. Oh God, he knows.
Rekosh absently dropped her skirt beside her top. She could only watch as he spread his legs wider, forelegs moving to either side of her, and lowered himself.
“ Kir’ani vi’keishi .” He trailed the back of a claw lightly along the line of tiny scars on her abdomen, making her flesh quiver. His hand continued downward to the scars on her thigh—the uppermost of which was very close to her pussy.
She held her breath, afraid to move, afraid to make a sound. Afraid to fan the flames raging within her, lest she be consumed by them.
The light from outside dimmed, and the rain fell harder.
Rekosh bent forward, catching himself with his lower hands upon the ground as he moved his head close to her. Ahmya’s eyes flared. His breath was warm against the chilled skin of her belly, but it could not compare to the heat of his stare.
It was all she could do not to squirm, not to drop a hand to her sex and clamp her thighs around it.
It was all she could do not to beg him to put his hand there.
The half-trill, half-growl he released vibrated in the air between them, making it that much harder for Ahmya to retain control. He slid an upper hand around her thigh, hooking it behind her knee, and lifted her leg.
“Rekosh!” She wobbled and threw her hands out, bracing them on his shoulders.
His other upper arm slipped around Ahmya, and his big hand settled upon her ass to steady her. Her wildly beating heart hammered in her chest.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
With her leg up, and his face mere inches from her pussy, there was nothing to shield her from his view.
“I have you,” Rekosh rasped, his breath tickling her pubic hair. He curled his fingers against her backside, pricking her skin with his claws. For what felt like an eternity, the two of them remained like that, with him so close to her, and Ahmya so close to giving in to her desires.
It would’ve been foolish to think Rekosh couldn’t smell her arousal, especially with his face right there.
He dropped his hand from her ass. She felt the strain in his body. Felt it under her hands, saw it in the play of muscle beneath his hide, in the twitching of his mandibles and the fine hairs standing on his legs. It was in every hot, ragged breath teasing her sex.
Just before her body could scream at her to take action, Rekosh plucked off her boot. He set it aside, lowered her leg, and repeated the process for her other foot.
But when he was done, he did not release her. He smoothed his upper hands up her legs and settled them on her hips, where his fingers flexed on her ass.
All eight of his bright red eyes were focused intently upon her pussy.
He pressed his headcrest against her belly.
Ahmya’s breath hitched, and her eyes widened. She lifted her hands, uncertain of where to put them, of what to do or what to say. Uncertain of what he was doing.
Tightening his hold, Rekosh drew her closer and inhaled deeply. A shudder wracked him, rippling through his long, lean body from top to bottom. He bent his right foreleg behind her. She felt its soft, tiny hairs as his hide rasped against her calves.
Not long ago, Ahmya would’ve recoiled from such a touch. Spiders were creepy, unsettling things, alien to her in their own way. The sight of one had been enough to send her fleeing from a room, and the mere thought of coming into physical contact with a spider had made her flesh crawl.
But Rekosh was not a spider. And though his touch made her feel many things, none of them were even remotely close to disgust.
What she felt most fiercely was need.
Rekosh rubbed his face against her belly, back and forth, again and again, releasing a sound not unlike a deep, rolling purr that vibrated into Ahmya. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to lock in a moan.
Slowly, she lowered her hands to the top of his head, slipping her fingers into his damp, silky hair. As his purring continued, stimulating her from the outside in, her clit thrummed, and her breath came in shallow pants. His mandibles spread, their fangs teasingly grazing her outer thighs.
“Rekosh…” she whispered. “What… What are you…”
Her small breasts felt heavy, her nipples painfully tight, and the hollow pressure in her core expanded with every brush of his face against her skin. He wasn’t just drawing in her scent—he was marking her with his own. His spicy aroma filled her nose, overcoming the fragrances of rain and earth.
There was something animalistic about this, something primal, and it spoke to a part of Ahmya that she’d never known existed. A long-sleeping part that had been roused by him, an instinctual answer to his scent, his touch, his intensity, his desire.
She delved her hands deeper into his hair, curling the strands around her fingers and squeezing as the pressure in her became nearly too much to bear.
Rekosh growled and slid his face lower. His claws bit into her ass as he tugged her impossibly closer and parted her thighs, his breath sweeping through the short hair on her mons.
And then something long, wet, and firm dragged over the folds of her pussy and her clit.
The sensation was so strange, so overwhelming, so startling, so pleasurable , that Ahmya cried out and shoved away from Rekosh.
He jolted back, and she stumbled, catching herself on the wall with her hair falling around her face. Body trembling and breath ragged, she clutched her chest. Her lungs ached to draw in more air.
The stone was frigid and unyielding at her back, but it did nothing to cool the inferno within her. Even the pain of rocks digging into the soles of her feet and the sting from Rekosh’s claws and fangs having scratched her didn’t assuage the yearning in her core.
But the strongest sensation of all was the lingering feel of his tongue having licked her sex.
Ahmya squeezed her thighs together.
He licked me.
She curled fingers, pressing her nails into her chest.
He licked me .
Her clit throbbed with the memory of his tongue’s feel, aching with desire for more.
Rekosh licked my pussy.
Ahmya flattened a palm on her lower belly and pressed down. It did nothing to alleviate the discomfort.
Something scraped on the ground. Ahmya ran her fingers through her hair, combing it from her face, and peered at Rekosh.
He’d shifted farther back from her, toward the edge of the overhang. His long black, white, and red locks hung about his shoulders, and there was a distant, frenzied light in his eyes. Harsh breaths had his chest and shoulders heaving. His lower hands, one atop the other, were covering his pelvis—covering his slit. He shook his head, and the motion rippled through his entire body.
“I… I will return. Small time. Soon.” He brought his upper forearms together with a shallow bow, half the vrix gesture of apology, and strode out of the shelter.
Ahmya pushed away from the wall to follow. “Rekosh, wait!”
He paused and halted her with a thrust of his hand. “Stay.”
“Where are you going?”
“I will not go far.” He turned his head, and four of his bright red eyes locked with hers. “Stay, Ahmya.”
Brow furrowing, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her urge to obey his command warred with her need to follow him. In the end, she nodded.
Silently, she watched as he disappeared amidst the greenery. Cold swept through her to replace the heat that had suffused her only moments ago. The rain fell steadily, and runoff from the overhang splashed upon the ground at her feet.
“What happened?”
What happened? He licked your pussy and you shoved away from him like you were repulsed. That’s what happened .
But she hadn’t been repulsed at all. Shocked, but not repulsed.
Does he know that?
Ahmya chewed on the inside of her bottom lip as she searched the jungle for any sign of Rekosh. He was nowhere to be seen. But he was close. She knew he was, trusted he was. He would not leave her alone.
Would you have let him continue?
The answer came without hesitation. Yes.
She would have. If Rekosh had pursued her, had pulled her to him once again and told her to spread her legs, she would have done so willingly. Wantonly.
Heat washed over her. Ahmya forced herself to turn away and glanced around their suddenly very lonely shelter. Her clothing lay draped over rocks, torn, bloodstained strips of her skirt lay on the ground, the bluevine fruit sat forgotten in a pile, and Rekosh’s sash and bag rested against the far wall.
Ahmya stared at that bag.
A guilty pang struck her gut at having lost her own bag to the river, though she knew keeping it on would’ve made it impossible to keep her head above water.
She couldn’t stand here and do nothing, couldn’t just sit and wait, wondering where Rekosh had gone.
Wondering why he had gone…
And once again, he’d left without his bag, without the supplies that could mean the difference between life and death out here in the jungle. Her only consolation in that regard was that he’d said he would remain close by.
Make yourself useful.
Walking to the bag, she crouched and reached for the string, untying the knot before throwing back the flap and tugging it open. Everything was wet. Had they only been contending with rain, the yatin hide bag would’ve kept its contents dry. But being fully submerged in a raging river had ensured nothing was spared.
She removed the items from inside and laid them out to dry. A couple of blankets, a waterskin, a hatchet with an obsidian head, several small bundles wrapped in waxy leaves, various scraps of silk and leather, several wooden spools of tightly wound thread, and a small jar of what Ahmya assumed was the oil the vrix used on their hides. Despite the trials they’d faced, much of it had been packed surprisingly neatly.
There were a few tools, mostly made of bone, that she’d seen him use to make ropes and nets and to punch holes in cloth or leather, along with several needles in a small case. Though all of it had taken on that damp, musty smell of being left wet for just a little too long, Rekosh’s scent remained present—a hint of spice and allure.
Ahmya lifted one of the little cloths to her face and inhaled. It was likely silk he’d produced himself, woven by his hands, and it bore his unmistakable fragrance. A fragrance that had come to mean so much to her. That comforted her, soothed her, excited her.
At the very bottom of the bag, beneath everything else, was a leather bundle. She couldn’t tell what was inside, but it was wrapped so tightly and securely that she doubted any moisture had worked its way in.
He’d been holding something in his hands when he’d visited her the other day, bundled in cloth rather than leather but of similar size and shape. Could this be whatever he’d meant to give her?
As curious as she was, she wouldn’t violate his privacy by opening the bundle. Its contents seemed to be protected from the water, and that was all that mattered right now.
Ahmya spread his bag out and stood, once more scanning the jungle.
There was still no sign of Rekosh .
Grabbing one of his knives, she found a spot where the ground was cushioned by vegetation and sat, drawing her legs close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
He’s close. He won’t leave me here alone.
She rested her chin upon her knees and stared into the jungle.
There was nothing to do but wait.