At least, I do until she puts her hands on my chest, panting, and begins to undo the fastenings on the front of my tunic. “I’ve never had sex before,” she tells me, breathless. “I was stolen when I was twelve, and Leandra never let anyone abuse me. So I’m…well, I’m not going to be very good at this.”
“If you are half as good at it as you are kissing, I will be the happiest man on Cassa.”
She giggles, ducking her head shyly as she pushes the collar of my tunic open, and then presses her mouth to my neck. “Tell me to stop if you want me to.”
Stop? I want her to do anything and everything she wants. “I am yours to play with,” I tell her in a thick voice. “Touch me as you please.”
Nicola looks up at me and smiles, then leans back so she can meet my eyes. “Have you had sex?”
“A long time ago,” I admit. “When I was a soldier. We went to…brothels.” I don’t like to think about that now, because when I do, I think of the hard-eyed females that worked there and imagine my Nicola in that place. The thought makes me furious and a little bit helpless, and I hold her tighter against me. “Not in a very long time though, and never because I cared for someone.”
“So then we’re both pretty new at this,” she says, and my heart aches with how sweet she is. She leans in and nips at my throat again. “Let’s promise to make it good for each other. We can come together.”
I am not entirely certain that it works that way, but maybe it is different with humans. Regardless, I like the idea. “Very well.” With that thought in mind, I put my hand on the collar of her tunic and fumble with the clasps, far more ornate than the ones on my clothing. When that doesn’t work, I lean in and capture her mouth again, already addicted to kissing.
She’s panting between meetings of our mouths, and her hands work up and down the front of her tunic, undoing the decorative clasps. I touch her all over, eager for her to expose her bare skin to my gaze. I think of the night I saw her bathing, and my hunger for her grows more intense.
Her gaze locks on mine, and then she peels back her tunic, exposing her torso. Covering her breasts is a wide cloth band, pulled tight over them. I have never seen the like. “Do…do they pain you?”
Nicola shakes her head. “They’re just bigger than most mesakkah women. I need additional support.” Her cheeks flush. “So I don’t bounce all over the place.”
“I…would not mind seeing bouncing,” I admit, then move a hand up to cup one through the band of fabric. She feels soft and fascinating under my hand, and I tug the band down, wanting to see more. Her breasts jiggle as the band drops, and then I am speechless at the sight of their bounty. She is full and plump here, with dark pink, tiny nipples topping pale, creamy mounds. I brush my thumb over the tip of one and it tightens.
She gasps, her fingers digging into my tunic. Her hips rock over mine, pressing her cunt against my cock.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, caressing her breasts. I tease one and then the other, playing with them and coaxing her nipples to stiff points. Each brush of my fingers over her skin makes her whimper and her body moves against me, until she’s gyrating her hips over mine, pushing against my cock as I pet her.
“Put your mouth on me, Emvor,” she asks. “I want to feel your tongue on my nipples.”
My tongue on them? The thought makes me growl with need. I love the thought. I gather her in my arms and tilt our twined bodies backward until she’s on her back in the bed, and I am atop her. Like this, I can see her breasts bounce in the charming way she mentioned, and her hair spills over the bedding. Gorgeous. I’m practically shaking with want as I tear at her clothing, hungering to see more of her skin.
When her tunic is completely open, I lean in and rub my face against the curve of one breast and then taste her with my mouth.
She cries out, her hands fluttering over my hair before she goes to my horns. With another sensual whimper, she clutches them and holds my head to her as I begin to treat her breasts as I did her mouth—loving them with teasing strokes of my tongue, then sucking on the tips as if they were her tongue and we are kissing once more.
Nicola loves it. She writhes under me on the bed, twisting and moaning.