Barbarian’s Mate(22)

“Just…nervous.” She gives me a faint little smile. “Silly, right?”

Not so silly. “I am nervous, too.”

My confession startles her and her gaze flicks back up to me. “You are?”

I nod slowly. “I worry if I do something wrong, you will run…again.” I pull at the laces, untying the loose knot at her neck. I am admitting too much, but if she is being honest and open with me, how can I not do the same for her?

Now she is all curiosity. “You mean when I left at the ship? When you were being a jerk?”

I indicate that she should lift her arms so I can pull the tunic over her head. She does so, obedient, and while her face is hidden, I admit my shame. “I was cruel to you because I was ashamed that I could not control myself.”

Then the tunic is in my hands. I am careful not to look at her naked body as she steps out of her boots, though I want nothing more than to gawk at her. As my gaze meets hers, she gives me a confused expression. “Control yourself?”

I groan inwardly. Do humans not have a word for it? “My desire was so great I…lost control.” I emphasize the last two words, not sure how much clearer I can make it. My jaw grits as shame washes over me. “I…should have done better.”

Comprehension dawns on her face and her eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh. You…okay. I get it now. That’s why you were a jerk?” A little smile curves her mouth. “I thought you were just being mean to me because I wasn’t enthusiastic enough.”

“Never. You are perfect, always.” I move to the pouch of warm water and dig in my nearby bag for a cleansing cloth - soft, hairless leather that has been worked soft enough that it smooths over the skin easily and soaks up water. I dip it in and then turn to her, rubbing her small shoulders with the wet cloth. She shivers and I instinctively move between her and the entrance to this strange cave, to block the breeze.

“Haeden?”

I look down at her, meeting her eyes.

“I don’t want you to be embarrassed, okay? It’s a normal thing and we’ve both been pushing our cooties hard with this whole resonance thing. I don’t want you to feel weird about it.” She reaches out as if to touch my arm, hesitates before putting her palm down, then turns her hand and rubs the back of it along my skin. “It happens.”

“It should not have happened to me,” I say, irritated.

Her lips twitch and she pats my arm with the back of that hand. “I don’t mind. It makes me like you more.” At my scowl, she explains herself. “It gives me a reason why you were mean to me, and it’s not a bad one. I thought you were just being a jerk.”

I do not know what a jerk is, but I can guess it is not something pleasant. I smooth the wet cloth over her shoulders, frowning to myself at how thin she is, how pale her skin is. I will focus on that and not how creamy and soft she looks, or the delicateness of her bones. I will focus on how fragile she is and not how beautiful. “It was my first time. I wanted to get it right.”

She gasps and stills. “Your first time?”

My gaze flicks to hers, and again, I feel the spark between us. My khui sings loudly, desperate for me to claim her. My cock presses against my breechcloth, but I ignore all these things. I focus on her small, round face, her big blue eyes that look up at me with such curiosity. “Of course. I told you, I did not claim Zalah.”

“And she died when you were young…” Sympathy fills her expression. “Oh, Haeden. We’ve both had crappy experiences with sex, haven’t we?”

“I have had no experience with sex,” I grumble, and lean to the pouch of water to wet my cloth again.

“Fair enough,” she says.

When I turn, she stretches, putting her arms over her head.

The cloth falls from my hand.

She is…beautiful. Her body is lean but curved in different places than the women of my tribe. She is all pink flesh and softness, and my hands itch to touch her. My gaze roams over her, hungry, and I focus on the small, pert breasts that jut from her chest, the nipples small and hard. Below them, her stomach is rounded and her hips swell out in a gentle curve leading to slim thighs. Between them, there is a dark patch of hair that matches her mane.

I groan, closing my eyes. One of my fists presses against the side of my cock, and I struggle to remain in control. “Jo-see, what do you do?”

“I’m just…stretching.” But there’s a sly little smile on her face that makes my heart race. “Keep washing?”

I nod, trying to regain control. I give her a heated look that tells her exactly what I am thinking.

She just gives a little wiggle, bouncing on her feet. “I’m cold. Can we hurry this along?”

Her breasts bounce enticingly and my nails dig into my palm. I force myself to nod, and then I pick up the washcloth and begin to bathe her again. I run it over her arms and her shoulders…and then back over her arms again. And then her shoulders. I fear for my control if I wash her any lower.

Jo-see makes a humming sound of pleasure and then turns around. “My back now?”

I grunt acknowledgment and swab her shoulders again. She now has the cleanest shoulder blades of any female ever born. In response to my movements, she squirms and arches against the cloth. “Lower?”

Drips of water slide down her back, gliding along her spine and down to her buttocks. I watch a droplet disappear between the cleft of her ass and close my eyes. This is…difficult. My cock aches fiercely, and I can feel the pre-cum slicking the head. I picture throwing her down on the floor and mounting her, her legs spread wide and that sly little smile on her face as I claim her.

But…then I picture her injured hands slapping on the floor, and that dashes my arousal. I would never cause her harm. While she is wounded, I will not touch her with anything but carefulness. Renewed, I clench my jaw with determination, kneel behind her and scrub her back as if she were any other sa-khui and we were not mated.

Jo-see gives a small sigh. “Thank you. That’s much better. My skin felt itchy after all the traveling.” And she turns around.

The cloth falls from my fingers once more.

As she turns, my eyes are level with her small, pink-tipped breasts. From here, I am close enough to see the dewy softness of her skin, and I can smell her. I can smell the faint sweat - not unpleasant in the slightest - the hint of smoke from the fire that lingers, and I can smell her arousal.

She is death to my control.

“Now my front?” She says brightly, and gives another one of those ache-inducing wiggles.

I groan, my head dropping. “Why do you torture me?”

“Because it’s fun?” she admits with a throaty little laugh. “I know it’s terrible of me, but I like seeing the effect I have on you.”

So she wishes to play games, does she? I should be angry, but I find that I’m more interested in touching more of her fascinating body…and inhaling more of her scent. I scoop the cloth up once more, dunk it into the water, and then begin to wash her front. I slide the cloth over her breasts, and to my surprise, she shivers and her skin prickles in response to my touch.

The scent of her arousal deepens.

Pleased, I pull the cloth over her breasts again. Her nipples don’t scrape against my hand, and I am surprised. They are as soft as the rest of her, unlike the women of my tribe. I am fascinated and want to touch one, but I do not yet have her permission. So I wash.

A soft noise escapes her throat.

I look up and her eyes are heavy-lidded as she watches me, her expression dazed. The smell of her arousal grows even more, until her perfume seems to fill the entire cave.

“You like it when I touch you,” I say, fiercely pleased. If she wishes for us to be bold with each other, I shall join in her game.

“Mmmhmm.” Her lips part, but her gaze is completely focused on me.

I lightly move the cloth down her stomach. “Shall I go lower?”

She bites her lip, her small, square teeth brushing over her full mouth, and then she nods, need in her eyes.

Another fierce surge of possessiveness moves through me. My mate is letting me touch her. Bathe her. Please her. There is nothing better. Already I’m addicted to the musky scent of her need in my nostrils. My cock is hard and insistent, but my focus is entirely on Jo-see.

The small tuft of hair that covers her sex is mere fingerspans from the cloth, and I slowly drag it downward. I wait for her to tell me to stop, to push me away and scream that she hates me. But she trembles and is silent, and all the while the scent of her perfumes the air.

As she gazes down at me, I touch her. The cloth brushes over her folds, and the sweet, hot scent of her arousal grows stronger. My khui hammers in my breast, insistent and wild.

Jo-see moans softly.

My grasp over my control is very close to breaking. Her hips are too close, the object of my desire within reach. One hand brushes over the rounded curve of her hip, and I close my eyes, then look up at her. “Tell me that I should not touch you, Jo-see.”

Confusion flits over her face. “W-what?”

“Tell me that I should not touch you,” I repeat again. “Tell me that I should not press my mouth to your skin and taste your cunt.”

She licks her lips. She opens her mouth to speak—

And then closes it again.

Jo-see is giving me permission.