Her words set him afire. If he were younger and less experienced, he would have come inside her right then, still only halfway embedded in her. He remedied that with a full thrust forward, burying his entire length in her, shuddering at the shockwave of sensation that followed.
Her eyes rounded for a moment, and her mouth opened but no sound escaped. Afraid he'd hurt her, he tried to withdraw only to have her increase the vise-like grip of her legs on him to hold him in place. “Gods be damned,” she blasphemed in a thin voice. “The rumors are true. You're a fucking horse.”
“Am I hurting you?” he said, ready to withdraw if needed, though he was nearly delirious from the pleasure of being inside her.
She shook her head. “No.” She lunged forward to steal a hard kiss. The tip of one tooth raked his bottom lip. He felt the sting and tasted the tang of copper. “Again,” she said, her own lip dotted with his blood.
He obliged, pumping hard into her as the water in the pool purled back and forth in waves. It was a mating, fierce and hungry, with the rake of claws, the thrust of hips, the bite on a shoulder or neck, a sweet nipple in his mouth, his cock deep inside her body. His name on her lips in a chant that was part command, part begging, part gasping, and all praise as she fucked him into oblivion and drained his bollocks dry.
He suckled one breast, teasing the other with his fingers as he continued thrusting into her. Anhuset's claw tips pressed into his back, almost breaking skin as she climaxed in his arms and nearly cracked his newly healed ribs under the grip of her legs. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and pounded against his breastbone. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face, beading on his skin along with the water
Anhuset inhaled great gulps of air and slowly peeled her fingers off his back. Serovek was certain if he were to look in a mirror now, he'd see divots in his skin. She stared at him, her features slack with a wonder that made him want to preen and also sent a rush of relief through him. He hadn't disappointed her.
“You are one amazing ride, Stallion,” she said, and this time it was she who teased him.
Serovek's laughter echoed in the cavern. He hugged her to him. This magnificent woman, who wouldn't know coyness if it kicked her in the gut, never ceased to charm him with her unadorned honesty. It was a charm unique to her. He suspected it wouldn't appeal to most, but he'd fallen for it willingly and hard.
He scraped her damp hair back from her face, smiling as she blew an annoying strand out of the way. “You were wrong,” he said. “I survived you.”
She answered his smile with a provocative one of her own. “So you did. This time, but can you do it a second time or a third?”
“The only way to find out is to make several attempts.”
“That is a very good plan,” she said, reaching into the water to cup his softened cock and stroke his balls. For an instant his legs instinctively tensed at the proximity of her claws, but she was careful, only her palm and fingers caressing him. She raised an eyebrow. “You don't trust me?”
He snorted. “Of course I trust you, but there isn't a man breathing who wouldn't be wary when daggers surround his bits.”
She chuckled. “That's true. Even a Kai man would be alarmed.” She lolled in his arms. “Kiss me again and then I'll wash the blood from your hair.
Serovek didn't need to be told twice and spent the next several minutes availing himself of Anhuset's taste, not only of her mouth but her neck and earlobes, the crooks of her elbows, her nape and her temples. She did the same to him, her tongue a wet caress on his skin that pumped the blood hot and fast into his loins again. His cock swelled, eager to experience the delight of her body.
She slipped out of his arms, motioning for him to follow her as she waded to the pool's edge where their clothes lay in a heap. The monk who'd led them to the pool had left not only towels but a small jar of boiled soap weed and a comb.
Good as her word, Anhuset soaped and rinsed his hair while he partially reclined in front of her, in a near torpor as she patiently combed the bloody mats out of his hair. Even with the occasionally painful tug of the comb, he relaxed so much under her grooming he nearly fell asleep.
When she was finished, she handed him the comb. “My turn,” she said.
Eager to touch her in the same way she'd touched him, he happily traded places with her. Combing her hair was an easier task than combing his. She wore it a similar length but the texture was different, thick as his but straight as a spear haft and coarse enough to discourage tangles. The comb glided easily through her locks until hitting an unexpected knot.
It caught the comb hard enough to jerk her head back. “Ow!” she yelped, staring up at him as if he'd lost his senses. Her eyes widened, and she jerked forward only to fall back with another yelp, the comb still entangled in her hair.
“Hold still,” he ordered, letting go of the comb. “You have a bad tangle back here.” She ignored his command, trying to wiggle away, only stopping when he said, “A ribbon?” Anhuset made an odd noise, something between a growl and a mortified squeak, and went still.
Serovek pried the comb loose from the knot that was actually a frayed white ribbon twined around some of her hair. He slowly uncoiled it, surprised by its presence. She wore a few tiny braids at her temples to keep recalcitrant strands out of her face, but he'd never seen her adorn her locks with beads or other ornaments, and especially not ribbons.
This one had seen better days. Ragged at the edges and more gray than white now. He ran this thumb down its length, teased by a memory that skated along his consciousness. Anhuset sat in front of him stiff and silent as a marble pillar.
“Feel free to cut it out if necessary,” she said. “I tried to tie it the right way but had to knot it to make it stay.”
“I wouldn't know what to do with a hair ribbon.”
His heart paused its beating for a moment as the memory finally revealed itself. A conversation at High Salure less than a month earlier but seemed a lifetime ago. “Where did you find the ribbon?”
She waited so long to answer, he almost gave up on getting one. “When you brought back staples from that market to replenish our supplies. There was a ribbon tied to a bunch of herbs. It fell to the ground. I took it.”
I wouldn't know what to do with a hair ribbon.
She'd asked why he never married, and he'd told her of his wife, describing her beauty and love of hair ribbons. He barely recalled the face of the flirtatious woman in the market who'd given him the flowers, but staring at the ribbon still tangled in Anhuset's hair, he remembered tossing the bouquet in the wagon, eager to get back to the camp and the Kai woman waiting for his return. “I can comb around it.”