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)
Even now, with exhaustion flowing through me, her scent is maddeningly tantalizing. I glance over and a drop of my release is on her damp thigh, and I sweep it off her skin with my fingers and then push them into her, giving her every bit of seed I can. “We keep mating. It will take.”
“Maybe I’m too old for it to take,” she tells me, worried. “Remember Willa and Gren had trouble and Veronica had to help out.”
I do not like her talking about herself as if she is the problem. “It will take. And you are not old. Do not say such things.”
“I’m seven years older than you. On Earth my mother would be despairing of me ever finding someone and having children.” She sighs, the sound growing sad. “This would thrill her. At least someone would be happy with this outcome.”
My irritation rises. She makes it sound as if I am a terrible mate. I pump my fingers into her with more effort, watching her face, and her eyes squeeze shut, her lips parting as I rouse her once more. “Am I such a miserable choice, then?”
Her gaze flicks over to me. “You know that’s not what I meant—”
“What is it you meant, then?”
F’lor frowns at me, lifting one hand off her leg and giving my shoulder a light, playful shove. “Don’t get butthurt. I’m just saying, I’m not what you wanted. We fucked everything up for all four of us.”
This is not what I anticipated, no. I have dreamed for the last several seasons of T’ia and her return. Of T’ia’s teasing kisses and the feel of her body against mine as she finally came to my furs. Instead, I have F’lor in my furs. My friend, who mates her tongue with mine as if she wishes to devour me, and whose cunt I cannot get enough of. Who makes silly jokes and shares gossip with me and has always, always had time to read and deliberate over T’ia’s confusing messages.
I am surprised and confused, but I do not think I am miserable.
“My butt is fine,” I tell her, grumpy. “My hips are sore from riding you, but that is all. And I have fucked nothing but you.”
She lowers her legs, grabbing my arm and halting the hand that works her between her thighs. She is so wet with my seed that her body makes squelching noises, and instead of being repulsed, I am fascinated…and aroused, because she is full of my seed. Her cunt has clasped my cock and milked it. Her body—
“How is it you’re able to completely miss what I’m saying?” She chuckles, shaking her head at me. “Don’t get mad, I’rec. I’m not saying you’re a problem or that you’re bad at sex. I’m saying this situation is fucked up.”
“I am good at the sex,” I feel the need to point out using her words, and tickle a finger inside her, since she is holding my arm and preventing me from moving. “I have made you come many, many times—”
She squeals and jerks backward, rolling away from me.
Astonished, I sit upright. “F’lor?”
On her hand and knees, she has one hand pressed between her thighs, panting rapidly. “Woo, that was a lot.”
“What was?”
“G-spot,” she manages, gasping. “Too sensitive. Not today, Satan.”
What is she talking about? “I will not touch she-spots then, fine.”
F’lor’s eyes flutter and for a moment, she looks dazed. “Normally I would say for you to go wild, but not after a fuck-marathon. That’s all I’m saying.” She presses her cheek to the cold stone floor of the cave, eyes closing again. “Oh fuck, I am so tired I could sleep for a week.”
Finally, she says something I understand. I scrub a hand down my face. “I am tired, too. Do we stay here another day?”
“I don’t know,” she says, finally rolling onto her side and looking over at me. Her cheeks are flushed with color, her mane as sweaty as mine, but she looks fragile in this moment. As if she needs to be fed and taken care of.
I am stricken with the realization that I am a bad mate, too wrapped up in my resonance needs to tend to her. That changes now. I get to my feet, wincing as the backs of my thighs protest, and I hobble over to the far end of the cave. She must eat and drink. Perhaps that is why she yet has not taken my kit. She does not have enough food in her body. I snag a bag of travel rations and a full skin of water—frozen solid—and tuck the skin under my arm to hold against my chest to melt. “Come,” I say, crouching next to her. “You must eat all of this.”
F’lor sits upright and takes the bag from me, nibbling at a bit of the spicy contents. “Thank you.” She eats a little and holds the bag out to me to share. “You think we should stay here again tonight or go back and face the music?”