Barbarian's Prize(31)

But Salukh is different. When he looks at me…it’s like no one else in the world exists. And every time he looks at me that way, it seems to pierce me right to my soul. Even now I shiver, just thinking about his intense gaze resting on me, like he wants to take me back to his furs and devour me in dirty, naughty ways.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, the thought of something like that happening doesn’t freak me out. Instead, I’m curious and aroused at what the thought of sex with Salukh might be like.

To be fair, I should probably start with kisses, though. Baby steps.

He rubs my shoulders vigorously and tightens the furs around us. “You are trembling.”

“Just thinking.” His chest is so close to my lips I could practically brush them against him. The thought is tempting.

“You should stop doing that.”

A small laugh escapes me. He made a joke? Cute, cute man. Cute alien. “Less thinking and more doing?”

“If you like.”

I can feel arousal strumming through my body, aided by the fact that his big, warm, delicious form is draped over me. That his bare chest is rubbing against my nightgown and causing the most aggravating – and wonderful – friction against my nipples when he moves.

Less thinking and more doing? He’s right. I need to get out of my own head and stop worrying about everything and start living again.

His scent is enveloping me and it’s intoxicating. The strange, savage planet that is now my home feels very far away at the moment. There’s only me, Salukh, and my furs.

Well, and Josie on the other side of the cave. I still, listening for the sound of even breathing. When she gives a soft snore, a wave of relief rushes through me. We’re really alone, him and I.

My hand slides over his chest. I feel him stiffen against me, and when I press my palm over the ridged, plated section in the center of his chest, I can feel his heart thumping fast.

Less thinking. More doing.

I slide my hand lower and let my fingers encircle his cock.

He goes utterly still against me. I look up at him and his blue eyes are blazing into mine, the intensity so heated that it makes me want to do even more to him, just to get more of a reaction.

“What is it you do, Tee-fah-nee?”

“I want you to kiss me,” I whisper to him. “I want to try again.”

“You want my mouth?” He makes a soft, strangled noise. “It is not my mouth you are holding.”

Another giggle threatens to escape me. “I know what I’m holding.” Boy do I know. I’ve been thinking about our mutual masturbation time a lot over the last week. I remember the way his glorious body looked, all muscle and blue suede, and I remember distinctly the rather enormous size of his cock. I remember the vein that traced along the side, the way it was ridged, and the way he reacted when he touched his own spur.

And I want to do all of that for him.

But first, I want to kiss him. I hope I won’t freak out. I close my eyes, bracing myself, because a lot of my bad memories on the ship were of…things that happened with my mouth. I don’t like to think about those. I need new memories, and Salukh’s tongue might just be the prescription I need…

Unless I start crying again. That would be bad.

But I can’t live like this forever. And tonight, I’m feeling good. Desire is humming through my veins, my nipples are hard and I can feel myself getting wet between my legs. If there’s ever a time to get over my fear of kissing, it’s tonight. Now.

My hand slides over his cock, the hard, erect outline pressing against the leather of his pants. “I think I want to try kissing again,” I tell him.

He nods slowly but doesn’t move. He’s letting me take the lead. I like that. It’s more of me giving than something being taken. Tonight, I want to give him all kinds of enjoyment.

Reluctantly, I pull my hand away from his cock and put it back on his chest. I shimmy up a bit higher, since he’s seven feet tall and our faces don’t quite match up at this angle. When I’m close enough, I study his face in the darkness. Other than the intense glow of his eyes, I can barely make out a nose and horns. The rest is lost in shadow.

My fingers slide to his face, and I trace his jaw. He’s breathing heavily, but his gaze on me is calm. Patient. I let my fingertips move over his mouth, and brush over his lips. His mouth feels softer and more pleasant than it looks in the daylight. I almost hope he’ll nip at one of my exploring fingers, but he’s utterly still. He’s letting me take control.

So I do. I gently press my mouth to his and tense, waiting. Waiting for the onslaught of awful memories to ruin this moment, for the bile to rush up in my throat. The memories creep in, and as I push my mouth against his, it becomes harder to keep them at bay. I want this to work so desperately, but I’m not quite there yet.