Chapter 13
Rose
O ljin nudges me onto my back and, after making it clear he wants my hands to stay above my head, parts my thighs and drops down between them. He lifts one of my poor useless legs over his shoulder. He’s practically purring as he licks the moisture from my inner thighs before delving between them.
I’ve only had one man do that before, an adjunct from the anthropology department who I barely remember. I didn’t know him well and was too nervous to relax, so it was like he was touching any other body part. He could have been licking my elbow. Nice, but nothing earth-shattering. I didn’t really get the appeal.
This, though? I barely feel human, I have so much need boiling inside me. I’m more like liquid in his hands, my body threatening to evaporate with every heated touch of his tongue.
He circles my clit until I’m taut and vibrating. Then, abruptly, he stops. I try and squirm toward his mouth, but he holds my hips down to the bed. “Word?” he asks, stroking over my clit.
My breath blows out as I try to organize my scrambled brain. “Um, yeah, clitoris.”
“Ummm-yeah-clitoris,” he repeats reverently, like it’s all one word.
A laugh bursts out of me, so loud I clap a hand over my mouth and twist my neck to look at the dark doorway of Saana’s bedroom. Oljin freezes, waiting. When she doesn’t appear, we both relax.
I can’t stop giggling, and my body can’t stop buzzing with anticipation of when he’ll lick me there again. It feels so good to be happy, to be safe. To be with this sweet, attentive, patient guy who wants to learn the right words for my body. “Clitoris.”
He says it a few more times, sorting out the vowel sounds. “Clitoris. Yes, good?” he asks in English.
“Perfect, beautiful,” I answer in Irran, and push his head back down.
Now he’s laughing, but he’s laughing and licking, and I’m laughing and crying, and he’s stroking me with his tongue on the outside and his fingers on the inside, and I’m forgetting to be quiet and coming all over his face.
The ceiling spins above me and all I can feel are his fingers still petting through my folds and his warm breath fanning over the curls between my legs.
So this is why people like it. This is sacred and transcendent. This means more than limbs and tongues. This is care. It’s deep connection. It’s love that costs me nothing.
He prowls up my body, bracing over me. I feel my core hollow and pulse, anticipating the stretch of his girth sliding inside me. But he stays outside, the head of his cock testing my entrance with infinite patience.
“Oljin, please,” I beg in a jumble of our two tongues. “Give me your kanjil . I need it.”
“Quiet, Alara,” Oljin murmurs. He rocks against me, giving me just shy of what I want.
I take a deep breath and try to settle down. If I wake up Saana, I won’t get what I want. So I bite my lip and beg in other ways. Sliding my hands over his shoulders and up to his neck. Stroking his gills until his chest vibrates with pleasure. Playing with the points of his ears.
Every tease increases the noisy need inside me, giving me the strength to wrap my legs around him in an attempt to draw him closer.
His quiet groan cuts off, breath is harsh and wanting in my ear. His hips jerk forward, and I’m so slippery he slides inside, filling me completely. The stretch is pure comfort and decadence, like slipping on a cashmere-lined glove, or biting a chocolate and finding rich ganache at the center. So satisfying, and yet I still want more.
I dig my heels into his back, goading him to move, and he laughs quietly, whispering a few words I don’t understand, sounding as awed as I feel. He curves down to take my mouth as he begins to thrust, the push and pull mimicked in the tangle of our tongues.
Maybe there’s some powerful magnet between us, because each time we pull apart even slightly, we come back together with even more intensity. He’s always been so gentle with me, but he seems to have forgotten I’m anything but the one he desires. It makes me feel, for this brief interlude, healthy and whole. Like myself .
When his pointed teeth graze my lower lip, the burst of metallic flavor in our mouths makes him grunt and pause. I catch my breath, afraid he’s going to stop completely. But it’s only for a moment, until he sees the tiny scratch the blood is coming from. Then he swoops down to lick it from my mouth.
Whatever he did while he was gone, it changed something in him. He’s lost whatever tinge of fear he had before. Now he’s determined. His hips pump into me, jamming his pelvis against my mound and making my clit throb. He’s speaking with his body, meaning so clear.
You’re mine. This is us. Jara and Alara. This is us.
Even if we never share one spoken language, in this language we can understand everything.
He swells inside me, testing my limits. Must be getting close. I squeeze my muscles around him, milking his shaft. His breath hisses out through his teeth, and he pulls out, leaving me gaping and empty.
Digging an arm into the furs beneath me, he rolls me on top of him, positioning me with my back against his chest.
At first, I think he’s taking a break, but then he grasps my hips and slides me down his body, guiding his cock into me. In this position, I’m at his mercy, legs spread and everything exposed. Two hands cup my chest, gently thumbing my nipples and squeezing my breasts until I’m writhing, greedy to move.
I want to give you everything. I want to have it all.
He chuckles under his breath, sliding his hands to my waist so he can shuttle me up and down his length. It’s good, so good, hitting all the right spots inside me with precision. The heat and pressure in my lower belly build until my whole body contracts and judders, my view the bright bursts behind my closed lids as sweat slicks the back of my thighs.
Oljin holds me tight to him until my legs stop shaking. I don’t think he came yet, but I can tell I’m already a mess. When he’s sure I’ve had time to catch my breath, he starts to move, stealing it all over again.
This time his movements are smug and languorous. He does figure-eights with his hips as he relishes the suck and squelch of my sated core. He grabs my hand and pushes it down into my folds, guiding them to my oversensitive clit.
I toss my head back and forth at the same time as my back arches, sending his cock stabbing deep. I can’t. Not again.
Oljin’s fingers thread between mine . You can. Have faith. Come for me.
He stays with me, sometimes leading and sometimes following, as we collaborate to push my pleasure to the brink. My orgasm shatters over me, brittle and crystalline, just as his cock surges, filling me with his citrus-scented come in hot jets that don’t stop until he’s gasping for breath.
Afterward, we stay together, catching our breath for a few long minutes, air cooling around us as the sweat dries on my skin.
“Beautiful Rose, so beautiful,” he murmurs, running his hands in long strokes down my body, leaving ripples of sensation in their wake.
“Quiet,” I remind him, smiling blindly at the ceiling. It’s hard to keep my eyes open as the sweet, heavy exhaustion that follows orgasm creeps up on me.
Oljin growls and wraps his arms around me, rocking back and forth like we’re wrestling, his cock still wedged inside me. He doesn’t seem tired at all. If anything, he’s energized, playing around like a puppy.
“Time to sleep,” I protest, giggling, when he nibbles down my arm. Every laugh pushes some of our combined juices out of me, where they slide down my inner thigh. I feel bad for the state of the furs, but I’m too drowsy to do anything about it.
He seems to be thinking the same thing, because he picks up his discarded sash. Easing me off his still-hard cock, he quickly presses the fabric between my legs. He holds it there as he lifts me like I weigh nothing, then carries me out into the Irran dark.
The air is soft with the sounds of grass and a slight humidity that rises from the fields. Animals low occasionally, and insects whir. Above us, a path of stars crosses the sky, much as the Milky Way appears on Earth.
It makes me feel even more at home here. I lean back to get a better look at the broad expanse. He pauses, letting me admire the sky for long minutes before ducking into the bathhouse.
Inside, he drops the fabric and sinks both of us into the embrace of the geothermal pool. The warm water against my well-pleased parts makes me moan, but I quickly stifle it out of habit.
“We can talk here, Alara.” He strokes up and down my arms, still holding me in his lap.
I tip my head back to grin at him. “Should have come here earlier,” I say in English. He nods, understanding the sentiment even if he doesn’t understand the words. A huge yawn cracks my face, and he chuckles.
“Rest now. I’ll take care of you.” He drops a kiss on my forehead, and then grabs some of the scented shampoo powder. With my head lolling drowsily on his shoulder, he lathers my hair, cupping water to rinse the suds away. Then he washes every other body part with the same thorough reverence.
This is what being loved feels like. I hope, someday when I’m strong again, I can make him feel the same way.
“I love you,” I murmur, struggling to keep my eyes open. He repeats it back. Does he know what it means? I slip in and out of sleep, barely conscious as he dries us both off and carries me back to bed.