Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
Ahmya’s lips tingled as she sat back on her heels, her skin flaming in embarrassment and desire. She curled her fingers against her thighs, bunching the silk of her dress. She’d kissed him. His mouth had been hard and unyielding, but she’d felt the warmth of his hide, the tickle of his breath, and had smelled his spicy scent.
And she wanted more.
With her head bowed, hoping her hair concealed her heated face, she said, “A kiss to seal our bond as mates.”
“Kiss me again, kir’ani vi’keishi . My wife .”
Ahmya’s breath hitched at that word. She looked up at him. He was staring at her, those red eyes of his blazing.
He lifted a hand, hooked the loose strands of her hair, and swept them behind her ear. “Teach me.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
She barely knew how to kiss, and now he wanted her to teach him ?
Vrix don’t have lips. They don’t know what kissing is. If you’re horrible at it…well, how is he to know?
That thought didn’t make this any easier .
But seeing him like this, with all that passion in his gaze, while she was aflame with desire, Ahmya knew her inexperience didn’t matter. Because she wanted this.
And so did he.
Not looking away from Rekosh, Ahmya rose to her feet and stepped closer. He straightened. When he was sitting like this, they were nearly the same height.
You can do this, Ahmya. This is Rekosh. Your friend, your husband, your mate.
My mate.
Warmth spread through her chest, radiating outward.
Ahmya took hold of his thick braid. She brushed her thumb across some of the red and white strands woven into it, which shimmered in the sunlight, before gently tugging on his hair. “Come closer.”
Rekosh’s lower hands settled on her hips, his long fingers nearly encircling her completely, as he lowered his head with mandibles raised.
She placed her hands upon his shoulders. This close, every breath she took was laced with his scent. “Now press your mouth to?—”
He firmly touched his mouth to hers.
And there it remained, unmoving.
Ahmya chuckled, her self-consciousness melting away.
There was nothing to be embarrassed about. They were two people, newlyweds, who would learn from one another. He was just as eager for this as she was.
Closing her eyes, she lightly brushed her lips over his mouth. Back and forth, again and again, learning the feel of him, relishing the delightful tingles sparked by this simple contact. Though his hide was hard, it bore a subtle, suede-like texture that kept him from abrading her. Those brushes turned into light kisses along the crease of his mouth and his faux fangs .
With a trill, Rekosh curled his upper arms around her, and his hands flexed on her hips as he drew her closer. He nudged his mouth more firmly to hers, scraping it against her lips. She felt the pricks of his claws on her skin, unhindered by the delicate silk, and the sensation stirred a wicked desire within her core. A need for more. She wanted his hands all over her body, exploring, teasing, desperate, wanted his fingers in her hair and his claws grazing her skin.
“Kiss me back, Rekosh.” Ahmya flicked her tongue over the crease of his mouth.
He drew back with a sharp inhalation. Their eyes met briefly—just long enough for Ahmya to see the firestorm within his gaze.
The intensity of his desire made her heart leap.
Growling, he tightened his grip on Ahmya and pressed his mouth to hers again. This time, his mouth opened, and his long tongue slipped out, sweeping across her lips. Demanding entry.
Ahmya obeyed.
His slick tongue delved into her mouth. Its sensuous strokes sent thrilling shivers through her and coaxed her to open wider, to twine her tongue with his. It banished every thought from her mind, leaving only Rekosh—the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him. Sweet and spicy, everything that was wholly him.
How could he taste this good?
Ahmya only wanted more. She closed her lips around his tongue and sucked.
He purred as one of his hands slid up her spine to cradle the back of her head. The sound vibrated into her, making her nipples hard and her clit twitch. A whimper escaped her as she clutched at his shoulders, wanting—needing—him closer.
His tongue did not slow. With every lick, he grew bolder, hungrier, more fervent, and her need sharpened as liquid heat gathered in her core. He left no part of her mouth unexplored, no part untouched.
She felt something else, something long and thin skimming the sides of her calves, curling behind her knees, bunching up the silk of the gown.
His claspers.
Rekosh broke the kiss abruptly, withdrawing his face and curling his fingers into her hair to prevent Ahmya from following. That tongue ran along her jaw and slowly down her neck. She sighed and tilted her head aside. She felt the silkblossom fall again, but it was instantly forgotten. There was no focusing on anything else while his tongue was on her like this.
He licked down to the hollow of her throat before tracing her collarbone to her shoulder. The large, wicked fangs of his mandibles grazed her sensitive skin, leaving tingles in their wake as he trailed his tongue back up.
She clutched his shoulders with a whimper when he licked beneath her ear.
With a satisfied trill, he buried his face against her throat and rubbed his mouth over her skin. She reveled in every rasping swipe, in every teasing scrape of his mandibles, in his every heated exhalation and every flick of his tongue.
He was marking her, and she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted to bear his scent from head to toe.
“Ahmya,” he rumbled. His mouth opened wider, and she felt his sharp teeth on her neck.
Ahmya gasped, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she slipped her fingers into his hair and drew him closer, forcing his teeth to press harder. She’d seen the bite mark Ketahn had left on Ivy’s shoulder. She wanted one of her own. Wanted Rekosh’s mark for all to see.
But she could not match his strength as he eased his teeth back. Rekosh’s lashing tongue soothed away the sting of his fangs, his hunger tempered by reverence .
“Mine. My mate. My nyleea .” Heat radiated from his hide, and a tremor coursed through his limbs as he released a heavy, harsh breath. His fingers hooked the low neckline of her dress. “Need this off. Now.”
“Yes... No, wait!” Ahmya lifted her head and looked at Rekosh, hurriedly placing a hand over his before he could tug too hard. “Please don’t tear it.”
Hard muscle flexed under her palm, and his claspers twitched around her legs.
“I’ll remove it.” She brushed her thumb over his knuckles. “But I love it too much to see it ruined.”
He released a strained hum. Tension radiated from him, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop him if he pulled at the fabric. But she also knew that he didn’t want to see it damaged any more than she did.
One look at the gown had been enough to tell her how much time and care he’d poured into its creation—how much of himself he’d poured into it. And that made it priceless to her.
Finally, his hold relaxed. He released the dress first, and then he released her, claspers and all, to lean back. The light in his eyes was no less bright as he looked her over.
“Remove it slowly,” he ordered. “I want to hear the silk whisper against your skin.”
Her belly fluttered at his command. She wanted his hands back on her, wanted his tongue, but more than anything, she wanted to feel him against her flesh with not even this gossamer silk as a barrier between them.
She stepped back.
And froze.
“Oh...”
Red rocket, indeed. One point to Callie.
Rekosh’s slit was fully parted, and protruding from it was his crimson cock. It was long, thick, and glistening. The shaft widened at the head before narrowing to a tapered, two- pointed tip with a two-inch slit at its center. There was a pair of bulges near the base of his shaft, one on each side.
Ahmya’s pussy clenched—not in fear of his size, but in acute need. She wanted him inside her, filling her, stretching her, wanted to feel his heartbeat thrumming at her core, wanted to be one with him. The proof of her desire was in the pulsing of her clit and the slick wetting her inner thighs. Her body was begging for him.
She gathered the silk of her skirt at her belly and squeezed her thighs together. It did nothing to alleviate the hollow ache in her core. Nothing would…except him.
A breeze swept past her, a balm against her heated skin.
“Ahmya?”
Rekosh’s rough, gravelly voice drew her gaze up to his. The open yearning in his red eyes only fanned the flames burning inside her.
“I’ve never seen a…” Ahmya flicked her eyes down. “I’ve never seen a vrix cock before.”
His gaze dropped to his erection. His claspers drew in tight against his pelvis as he wrapped his fingers around his shaft. The sound he made was half chitter, half hiss. “It is not like human stems.”
Ahmya tightened her grip on the silk as she stared at his cock.
No, it most definitely is not.
“Do I scare you, Ahmya?”
“No,” she said with a shake of her head before meeting his gaze. “I need you, Rekosh.”
He unfolded his right foreleg, extended it toward her, and planted its tip on the ground behind her. The hairs upon his legs stood on end. “Remove the dress, vi’keishi .”
Whatever inhibitions Ahmya might have had in the past were gone. She didn’t care that they were out in the open, that someone could stumble upon them. All that mattered in this moment was him. Was them .
She gathered the silk in her palms until the hem of the skirt was above her knees. Rekosh watched, enrapt, as she slipped off the shoes. She curled her toes into the soft grass as a smile lighted upon her lips.
Dropping the skirt, she slowly smoothed her hands up her belly and over her breasts, feeling the embroidered flowers and hard crystals beneath her palms. Her breath hitched as she ran her hands over her beaded nipples. A titillating sensation zipped through her, straight to her clit. But she didn’t stop there.
Taking hold of the strap that wrapped around the back of her neck, she lifted it off over her head, her hair teasing her sensitive skin as it tumbled back down over her shoulders and back.
She held Rekosh’s gaze as she clutched the dress to her chest.
No more barriers.
Ahmya let the dress go.
The whisper of the fabric against her skin as it fell made her shiver. It was so light, so soft, so sensual, awakening every part of her to a new awareness, a new craving. The silk’s caress made her yearn for his touch. For those long, strong fingers, with their rough calluses, to trail along every inch of her, for him to make her feel things of which she’d only dreamed.
All her craving, all her hunger, was echoed in the low growl that rumbled from Rekosh. His eight crimson eyes stared at her, burning, devouring, commanding. Once the gown had pooled at her feet, he shifted his foreleg closer, curling it around her and brushing it along her calf. Its tiny hairs tickled as they glided over her skin.
“The Eight themselves could never have shaped beauty to match yours,” he said huskily .
Ahmya smiled, cheeks flushing at his praise.
His foreleg rose to her backside, and Ahmya released a little squeak and settled her hands upon his chest when he drew her closer.
Rekosh smiled. “Ah, my heartsthread.”
His hearts hammered beneath her palms, strong, powerful. Alive. She looked down at where she was touching him and traced her fingers over the ridges of his chest, following them to the center of his abdomen. Her hand was so small, her skin in such stark contrast to his black hide. His teak and amber scent was so much more potent now, its notes of lavender even more pronounced; it was intoxicating.
She continued trailing her fingers down, down, down... Rekosh shivered, curling his lower hands around her hips. When she reached just above his slit, just above his cock, he tensed, growling, and his grip tightened before one of his upper hands caught her wrist.
Her eyes snapped to his. “Did I do something wrong?”
“If you touch, I will lose myself,” he rasped, head dipping to brush his mouth across her forehead. “I do not want to hurt you.”
Ahmya smiled at his kiss. “You’d never hurt me, Rekosh.”
“I never want to hurt you, Ahmya, but the mating frenzy…” He exhaled heavily. “I do not know if I will be…me when it takes me.”
She closed her eyes and cupped his jaw beneath his mandibles. “Ivy said that when a male calls a female his heartsthread, it is everything. That their spirits and hearts are bound.”
Ahmya drew back and met his gaze as she placed a hand once more over his hearts. She stroked his mandible with a thumb. “You are mine, Rekosh. My heartsthread, my mate, my luveen . I trust you with everything in me. I love you.”
Those words flowed from her so naturally. And they were true. They had been true for so long, buried deep down beneath her uncertainty and trepidation. But she was free from all that. Free to openly and honestly share that love with him.
And she saw those words, saw that love, reflected in his eyes as he stared down at her. She felt it in the delicacy of his touch as he moved an upper hand to her belly and skimmed a finger along the tiny trail of scars.
“You wear the marks of my failure already. I did not protect you,” he said in a low, broken voice.
Ahmya’s heart squeezed at the pain in his words. She dropped her hand from his chest to cover his, pressing his palm flat against her stomach. “I am alive, Rekosh. The scars are from what I endured, what I lived through. They don’t mark your failure. They mark my strength. And I’m here, standing before you now, as your mate, because of you.”
She caressed his jaw and mandible. “I’m not helpless, Rekosh…but I need you.”
He turned his face to her palm, nuzzling it. “My nyleea , my heartsthread… You are my little flower, and you have made my hearts bloom.” Lifting his head, he cupped the back of hers, combing his claws through her hair.
Ahmya eased a little closer to him, her scalp tingling.
“We are woven together, hearts and spirits,” he continued. “All that remains is our bodies. The final thread to bind us fully. I would learn you first, my Ahmya. Show me what to do.”
She pressed her lips to the underside of his jaw, letting the kiss linger before answering. “You can kiss me some more,” she said before softening her voice to a whisper. “You can…touch me.”
A purr rumbled in his chest. “Show me how, vi’keishi .”
Easing back, Ahmya took hold of his upper wrists and guided his large hands to her breasts. “Here.”
Rekosh dropped his gaze and stared.
Ahmya glanced down as well. His hands covered the entirety of her chest, and he held them there, unmoving, exactly as she’d placed them.
Why isn’t he ? —
He tilted his head. “Is this…human mating?”
Oh…
Female vrix didn’t have breasts. What would Rekosh know about touching them, about caressing a human body to bring pleasure?
Likely just as little as she knew about touching a vrix. About…bringing Rekosh pleasure.
Ahmya chuckled. “It’s part of it. Humans call it foreplay. It’s when you touch your partner to arouse them. But you don’t just hold your hands there. You are supposed to…to…”
Warmth skittered across her skin as she pressed his hands more firmly to her breasts. “You…caress them. Nipples can be very sensitive, and when touched, it…it can bring us pleasure.”
“Are yours sensitive, Ahmya?” Rekosh moved his hands over her, the abrasiveness of his palms grazing her nipples and making them harden further. “Does this bring you pleasure?”
Ahmya’s breath hitched at the electric current that shot through her body. She tightened her grip on his hands and nodded. “Yes. Very.”
A low purr rumbled from his chest, and he curled his fingers, squeezing her breasts. “Your skin is soft, but these… These are softer. So soft.”
He cupped the mounds and pushed them up, stroking his thumbs over her beaded nipples. A moan escaped her, and she arched into his touch, needing more.
This was merely skin against skin, yet it was nothing like touching herself. How could it feel so different with him? What did it matter if it was her own hands or Rekosh’s?
But it did matter. It was his touch, however light, however brief, that elicited all the pleasurable sensations for which she’d yearned. His touch that brought her body to life .
Rekosh trilled huskily at her response, his crimson eyes narrowing in delight as he gripped her hips with his lower hands, holding her steady. “Such pretty sounds my mate makes when I give her pleasure.”
He played with her breasts, molding them, shaping them, and focused on her nipples, coaxing breathy sighs and whimpers from her. With every caress, with every stroke and pinch, the pressure within her core expanded. Slick arousal seeped from her pussy and coated her inner thighs.
She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, sliding her palms along his arms to rest upon his shoulders. Warm prickles of electricity flowed through her, building and building with his touch. Her nipples ached, and her clit pulsed. This…this felt… Oh God, she felt as though she was on the verge of an orgasm from this alone.
“Rekosh,” Ahmya begged.
“Your scent…” he rasped, his voice next to her ear. He scraped his mouth over her neck and shoulder before licking the flesh, making her shiver. “Show me, my nyleea . Show your luveen what you want.”
Ahmya lifted her head and opened her eyes to find his gaze fixed upon her, burning bright with yearning, with need, that he’d long contained.
For her.
Rekosh wanted her.
There was no reason to be shy, no reason to worry about what he might think, no reason to hold back from him. And she was long past that point anyway.
Because she wanted him too. She wanted this .
She dropped a hand from his shoulder and grasped one of his lower hands, guiding it down and slipping it between her thighs.
“Here,” she breathed. “Touch me here.”
A low growl escaped him. “Ahmya… ”
One of his long fingers curled, pressing in along the seam of her pussy, its rough flesh brushing her most sensitive part. Her breath hitched, and she tightened her grip on his hand. She’d never, ever had anyone intimately touch her there before, and now, it took everything inside her to keep from grinding against him.
“So soft, kir’ani vi’keishi ,” he rasped, “and so wet. Is this nectar for your luveen ?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She hesitantly released his hand and returned hers to his shoulder. “Touch me more, Rekosh. Please.”
Slowly, he explored her, gliding that finger back and forth through her pussy, tracing the folds of her labia as his upper hands continued fondling her breasts and tweaking her nipples. Ahmya panted, clutching at him, hips wriggling, seeking more, but his grip on her hip held her firm. When he pressed the pad of his finger into her entrance, her core clenched and she groaned.
“The sounds you make are as sweet as your scent.” He dragged that crooked finger back through her pussy, as careful of his claws as always, and grazed the swollen nub of her clit.
“Oh God!” Ahmya gasped, bucking her hips as pleasure burst through her. “There! Touch me there!”
Rekosh stilled his finger upon it with a curious hum. “What is this?”
“My clit,” Ahmya said in a rush, undulating against his finger. “Please don’t stop.”
“Clit,” Rekosh said, emphasizing the word as he leisurely circled it with the pad of his finger, spreading the moisture he’d gathered.
Breathy, needy moans escaped her, and she rocked in time with the motion of his finger, chasing the promise of release. Arousal trickled down her inner thighs. She was so close to coming, teetering right on the edge.
“Your clit brings much pleasure.” He pressed just a little harder, and that slight change in pressure intensified the sensation tenfold.
Ahmya whimpered and nodded. “Yes. So much. It feels…it feels so good. So, so good.”
Rekosh crooned and swept his curled foreleg down the backs of her thighs. The soft hairs brushed against her hypersensitive skin, sending a thrill across it. “Your body does not whisper, it sings, kir’ani vi’keishi . And its song is the most beautiful I have ever heard.”
He quickened those circular strokes on her clit. Fire licked beneath her skin, and her thighs trembled. Something unfurled inside her, something powerful, something primal.
“But I need more. Must know more of you.” He withdrew his hand from between her legs.
“No!” Ahmya cried, legs nearly giving out beneath her, but Rekosh held her fast in place. Her clit throbbed from being abandoned on the cusp of an orgasm. She scraped her nails down his chest. “Rekosh, please don’t stop!”
He trilled, but the sound was cut short when a shudder wracked him. The chitter that followed was sultry and rumbling. “Small time, my nyleea .”
Rekosh raised his hand and shifted his gaze to it. If her skin wasn’t already flushed, she was sure it turned bright red at that instant. His fingers glistened with her slick. For a few heartbeats, he stared, turning his hand and watching the rays of sunshine catch upon it.
What is he ? —
Then his mouth opened, and his long, red tongue slipped out to lick from the heel of his palm to the tips of his fingers.
Ahmya’s lips parted with a quick exhalation. The action was shocking and lewd, but it sent a spear of desire straight to her core.
“Your body makes this nectar for me,” he purred, mandibles rising. “I would have it make more. ”
He closed his teeth on the claw of his middle finger and bit off the tip with a dull snap .
Ahmya’s eyes widened as she caught hold of his wrist. “Your claw! Why would you do that?”
She knew how much care he took with his claws. They were instrumental when it came to his work, essential.
“I would know you inside, kir’ani vi’keishi. I would learn you with my touch. I would feel you.” He flexed his fingers on her hip, pricking her skin. “And I have many claws.”
He returned his hand to between her thighs, forcing them wider, and slipped the now clawless finger through her pussy once more, finding her entrance. His gaze held hers. “I would learn you here, my Ahmya.”
Rekosh thrust his finger deep inside her.
Ahmya sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing as her sex clamped around the digit. His finger was long and thick, almost as thick as a vibrator she’d once used on Earth, and it stretched her, filled her.
“ Kir’ani vi’keishi ,” he rumbled, drawing his finger back before pushing it in deeper still. “Your body welcomes me. Hungers for me.”
His words, combined with the sensation of his finger stroking her within, made her tremble. She ran her palms back up his chest to his shoulders and whispered, “It does.”
Tipping his head forward, he nuzzled Ahmya’s cheek, then her ear and hair, all while pumping that finger slowly, deliberately, nearly stealing her breath with each firm thrust. “Hot, wet, and soft.” He flicked his tongue over the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “What do you call your slit?”
Ahmya whimpered. “My…my pussy.”
With a growl, he thrust his finger harder, deeper, making her gasp. “Your pussy is mine. You are mine, Ahmya, and I will have all of you.”
“You have me. You’ve always had me. ”
Her every nerve was alight with sensation as he stoked her pleasure higher and higher, and her body responded of its own accord. She rolled her hips, riding his hand, unable to stop her breathy sounds as ecstasy blossomed within her. It was agony; it was bliss.
Ahmya moaned, cupped his jaw, and lifted his head so he met her gaze. “Kiss me, Rekosh.”
He released her breasts and cradled her jaw in turn. Then he pressed his mouth to hers, hard and demanding, rubbing against her lips until she opened to him. His long tongue slipped inside, twining with hers.
Ahmya buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. As she bounced upon his finger, she sucked his tongue, flicking her own against his fangs and delighting in their sharpness, and pressed a desperate scattering of kisses along the seam of his jagged mouth. It all felt too good to end.
“Rekosh,” she rasped, her pussy quivering.
He broke the kiss with a growl. His breath was harsh, and his body was rigid around her. “Need to kiss you.”
Ahmya brushed her lips along his jaw. “Then kiss me.”
His red eyes, already burning, flashed somehow hotter and brighter before he abruptly withdrew his hand from her pussy. She immediately mourned the loss of his touch, crying out for it, but he prevented her from following by grasping her hips with his upper hands.
Easing Ahmya back, Rekosh dropped his lower hands to the ground and yanked her forward.
“Need to taste you.” He buried his face between her thighs, his tongue spreading her pussy.
Ahmya gasped and clutched Rekosh’s hair as pleasure rushed through her. His tongue glided over her, stroking and licking. The sensation was just as strange and overwhelming as when she’d first felt it. Except this time, she didn’t push him away. She pulled him closer .
“Rekosh…” she moaned.
He hummed against her, appreciatively, ravenously, and speared her entrance with his tongue, thrusting it deep inside her.
“Ah!” Ahmya’s head fell back, and her eyelids fluttered shut. Her nails raked his scalp, and she spread her legs farther, allowing him easier access. Allowing him to push his tongue even deeper. He growled, the sound thrumming into her and making her clit pulse. His long fingers curled, tightening his hold on her and preventing her escape.
Not that escape was on her mind. She wanted to stay like this forever. She was consumed by him. Lost in him. The exhilarating press of his claws, the jagged faux fangs of his mouth on her mons, the sublime feeling of his tongue thrusting in and out of her pussy, his warm breath, and his spicy scent filling her lungs—all of it swirled together to carry her away on waves of ecstasy, erasing the whole universe but for Ahmya and Rekosh.
When Rekosh withdrew his tongue from her channel and twirled it around her clit, Ahmya’s pleasure sharpened. She caught her lower lip with her teeth, muffling her growing cries, as he lapped at her greedily, again and again. He squeezed her ass, hard enough to bruise, and the points of his claws dug into her flesh. But she didn’t care. Each delicious flick of his tongue pushed her closer to the edge, until somehow, he latched onto her clit and she fell.
Ahmya’s body tensed, and her mouth opened in a silent cry. Her world ceased to exist.
She ceased to exist.
And then rapture cleaved through her.
Her cries echoed into the jungle around them as her body convulsed. Her inner walls fluttered, and her core contracted so powerfully it bordered on pain.
And it was followed by a gush of liquid.
Right into Rekosh’s face.