“Oh,” she moans, and for once, sharp words do not fall from her lips. She is soft and open, as soft and open as her cunt before my tongue. “Oh, baby, you’re so good at that.”
I growl with pleasure, teasing the third nipple that peeks out from between her folds. I love when she gets breathless, when her hips buck against my mouth as if she can encourage my tongue even more. I love her whimpers of distress when I lift my mouth, and I love the way my khui hums and sings low in my chest, pleased that I am claiming my mate.
Liz is breathless with need, squirming under me and digging her heels into the furs—and my back—as she gets closer to her climax. “Inside me,” she pants. “Want you inside me, Raahosh.”
I can refuse her nothing. I move over her, claiming her mouth in a hot kiss. Her legs go around my hips and I fit my cock at the entrance to her core and then push deep. She moans into my mouth, and I start a slow, steady pace, thrusting into her with languid, teasing movements. I take her slow and gentle, kissing her soft mouth with every thrust even if it means I must hunch my back to make our bodies line up.
She comes quickly, her cunt clenching hard around me, and a little gasp escapes her even as her body tightens, squeezing me. When I release inside her, it is with a growl, and we slowly come down, our bodies twined together.
For a long moment, we do nothing but breathe, content to lie in a tangle of limbs. “So far, I like this honeymoon,” I tell my mate in a low voice.
Liz snores, already asleep.
I bite back a smirk of amusement and press a kiss to my mate’s brow. Humans. So fragile and easily tired, even when they say they are not.
* * *
The next day as we hike through one of the snowy valleys, my thoughts are full of Liz and her honeymoon ideas. Last night she was too tired for play, but tonight I vow that we will make camp early. Perhaps tonight I will tell her about my cock as I put it inside her. I want this honey moon thing to be good for her. I want her to be pleased she is my mate.
“I think I see someone up ahead,” Liz says, shielding her eyes.
“Eh?” Startled—and a little annoyed I was too distracted to notice first—I look up and spot a familiar shape. It is indeed a hunter, heading back to the main tribal cave. He has heavy packs on his shoulders and I study the horns, trying to decipher who it is.
Then I bite back a groan of dismay as I realize it is Vaza.
Vaza is one of the elders in the tribe, a widower whose mate died long ago. Normally Vaza is easygoing, but since the human females arrived, he has been irritating in his eagerness to show what a good provider he is. He wants a human female for himself, and I know he is lonely.
It still irritates me.
It irritates me even more because now we are going to have to talk to him and he is going to stare too hard at my Liz.
I eye his distant form, wondering if it is too late for us to hide when Vaza raises a hand in the air and waves. “Ho!”
Liz looks over at me, and there is far too much amusement in her gaze. “Hey buddy,” she calls cheerily, and then pokes my side. “Smile.”
“Why? It is Vaza.”
She snorts. “Be nice.”
“I am always nice,” I grit out as he jogs toward us.
Vaza beams a smile at us as he approaches, then claps his hands together as if so very pleased to see us. “What a joy to see the two of you out here.”
“Right?” Liz murmurs. “So surprising. How are you, Vaza?”
“Very hearty!” He claps a hand on his stomach, then slaps his arm as if to show off his muscles. “I am bringing back much fresh meat for our fragile new females.”
“Oh boy,” Liz says, and I can hear the slight souring in her tone. “Aren’t you just the biggest chauvinist.”
“A what?”
“A hero,” she amends sweetly. “You must not know that word yet.”
He grins and taps his tongue. “It is because the human language is so ridiculous.”
“So very.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, because I recognize Liz’s accommodating tone. It is a very dangerous tone indeed and Vaza does not realize it.
“We head out to the far reaches,” I say, and put my arm around Liz’s shoulders, squeezing. If I must be polite, she must be, too.
“Freshly mated and off to the far reaches!” Vaza rubs his hands and looks so pleased you would think he was the one who was “freshly mated.” “You will be very alone out there. Of course, that might be exactly what you wish.” And he gives me a knowing look.