Chapter 3 #4
He lifted his head to my ear. "You are right," Nartab whispered.
His voice had stripped itself of all civilized smoothness, reduced to a low, gravelly vibration that scraped across his teeth.
"We should not. By every law of my clan, I should turn my back and lock myself in the lower vaults until I can control myself again.
" His breath burned hot against my earlobe, his lips barely grazing my skin as he spoke.
"But my blood does not hear clan laws tonight, Veliria.
The rut screams for you. It demands I claim what stands in my territory. "
I closed my eyes, my fingers clawing helplessly at the cool stone edge of the parapet as a wave of heat traveled down my spine.
"Listen to me," Nartab growled, his voice dropping into a rough, urgent register.
"On my left hip - below my linen belt - hangs a short hunting blade in a leather sheath.
" My eyes flicked downward. Even without turning my head, I could feel the hard, leather-wrapped pommel of his dagger pressing against my left thigh where his waist met mine.
"Draw it," he commanded, his chest heaving against my back.
"Take the hilt. Drive the steel into the muscle of my thigh.
Put your whole weight behind the blow." I froze, my breath catching in my throat.
The wind whistled through the open arches of the tower, cold and sharp against my heated skin, but I could only hear the hammering of my own heart.
"Do it," Nartab urged, his voice trembling with the strain of holding his instincts at bay.
"The pain will slow me down. Run down the stairs to Lesta and Miri.
Their bond with me will hold the door. They will keep you safe. "
I stared down at the dark stone flagstones beneath our feet, my mind rejecting the command as soon as the words registered. "Are you insane? How can you ask that? I will not stab you."
"It is the only way," Nartab rasped. His forehead dropped against the crook of my shoulder, his horns casting heavy, spiraled shadows across the parapet.
"If you do not shed my blood right now, my restraint ends here.
I will take you on this very stone." His lower body shifted against mine, the dense fur of his massive thighs pressing against the backs of my own with a deliberate, territorial pressure.
"I will bend you over this parapet," he whispered, his tone dark with raw, possessive hunger.
"I will push your tunic up to your waist, and I will claim you until the entire canyon knows you belong to me. "
The words hit my chest like a spark thrown into a field of dry grass.
A sudden, intense flood of heat ignited in my lower belly, rushing downward with a fierceness that made my breath hitch.
My skin prickled with a sharp, electric fever.
The wetness between my thighs surged, pooling so heavily against my undergarments that an ache of hollow, throbbing need radiated through my core.
The image of his massive, animalistic frame overpowering my human defenses - of him stripping away the polite rules of our blended family to claim me under the open sky - short-circuited my reason.
My knees weakened, the physical ache of my arousal turning so intense it bordered on actual pain.
I turned my head slightly, my cheek brushing against the amber fur of his muzzle, and let out a trembling, shallow breath. "Alright," I whispered, my voice thick with the need burning through my veins. "Do it."
Silence hung over the tower for a single, suspended heartbeat. The canyon wind seemed to die away, leaving only the sound of our mingled breaths.
Nartab pulled his weight back. His chest retreated two inches from my shoulder blades, his heavy palms lifting from the sandstone railing just enough to break the cage of his arms. The sudden cool air rushing between our bodies made my skin erupt in goosebumps, but he did not step away entirely.
His heat still radiated against my back like an open hearth.
"Are you sure?" he rasped, his voice ragged, disbelief fighting against the overwhelming hunger in his eyes.
I gave him no words to answer his question.
Instead, I reached down and caught the hem of my linen tunic with both hands.
I pulled the fabric upward, dragging it past my thighs and over my hips until my bare skin met the cool evening draft.
Without hesitation, I leaned my weight forward, pressing my stomach flat against the rough stone of the parapet, and arched my lower back to present myself to him.
The cool evening wind kissed the newly bared skin of my hips and the soft underside of my ass as I held the pose, tunic bunched high around my waist. The rough sandstone of the parapet scraped gently against my stomach with every shallow breath.
Behind me Nartab’s presence was a living furnace; the heat of his body rolled over my back in waves, thick with the scent of sweat, mountain pine, and the raw animal musk of the rut.
His heavy hands settled on my hips, the massive span of his palms gripping my waist. I felt the rough calluses of his fingers hook into the thin linen band of my undergarments.
A single, sharp tug followed. The fabric snapped instantly, the sound of tearing thread echoing in the quiet air as the ruined garment fluttered down to the flagstones.
The sudden absence of the cloth left me bare to the mountain draft, my breath hitching at the undeniable vulnerability of the moment.
I felt the first brush of his fingers, calloused, warm, and deliberate, tracing the outer curve of one cheek.
He moved slowly. The pad of his thumb followed the crease where my thigh met my body, then drifted inward until the rough edge of a fingernail grazed the half-open seam of my cunt.
A low, appreciative rumble vibrated in his chest. “Gods,” he breathed, voice rough as stone grinding on stone.
“Look at you. So tight. Such a small little hole.”
His fingers parted me gently, spreading the slick folds.
He dragged one thick fingertip slowly up and down the length of me, coating himself in the wetness that had already gathered.
Every pass made my hips twitch. When he pressed the pad of his finger against the swollen entrance and simply held it there, a helpless sound slipped from my throat.
I rocked back into the touch before I could stop myself.
The friction of that single fingertip sliding through my folds again and again pulled soft, broken moans from me.
My thighs trembled. The ache between them had become a living thing, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
Then the finger pressed forward. It sank into me in one smooth, measured stroke, and the stretch of even that single digit forced a sharp gasp from my lungs.
The sensation was immediate and overwhelming - hot, thick, and impossibly full for something so comparatively small.
My inner walls clenched around him of their own accord, fluttering as they tried to adjust. Pleasure bloomed outward from the point of invasion, bright and liquid, racing up my spine.
“Oh - ” The sound tore free before I could swallow it.
I pushed back harder, chasing more of that delicious pressure.
Nartab obliged, drawing the finger almost all the way out before sliding it home again.
The slow, deliberate glide made my vision blur.
Each withdrawal left me empty and aching; each return filled me with a heavy, perfect fullness that made my knees threaten to buckle.
He worked me like that for several heartbeats - in, out, in again - until my body had softened enough to accept the rhythm without resistance. Then a second finger joined the first.
The added girth stole the air from my lungs.
My mouth opened on a silent cry as my walls were forced to stretch wider.
The dual pressure rubbed against places deep inside that sent sparks cascading through my nerves.
I could feel every ridge of his knuckles, every subtle shift of his hand as he scissored the fingers gently, coaxing me open.
The wet sounds of my body accepting him were obscenely loud in the quiet evening air.
The fullness tipped me over the edge without warning.
Pleasure detonated low in my belly, sharp and sudden.
My walls clamped down hard around his fingers as the climax ripped through me.
I cried out, the sound echoing off the stone towers, hips jerking helplessly against his hand while wave after wave of heat pulsed outward.
Wetness spilled over his knuckles; I could feel it dripping down the insides of my thighs.
Nartab groaned as if the clench of my body had hurt him.
“So narrow,” he growled, still slowly pumping the two fingers through the aftershocks.
“You have no idea how hard it is for me to hold back. Every instinct is screaming to bury myself to the hilt and claim you right now. But I will not hurt you.”
He worked a third finger into me while I was still trembling from the orgasm.
The stretch bordered on pain. My breath hitched into a high, broken moan as the three thick digits forced my walls farther apart than they had ever been.
I could feel every millimeter of expansion - the slow, relentless parting of muscle and the deep, aching burn that somehow only fed the pleasure.
Tears of pure sensation pricked at the corners of my eyes.
My body fluttered and clenched around the intrusion, trying to decide whether to reject it or pull it deeper.
More wetness spilled from me, easing the way, turning the burn into something molten and addictive.
“Nartab - ” His name left me as a shaky plea.
I no longer knew whether I was begging him to stop or to give me more.