Page 64 of Challenged

“Still, we should give your hands a good scrub, just to be certain.”

I draw her over to theshowerarea, grabbing the bowl of geberren root on the way. Standing her out of the way of the spray of the water, I press on the wall to turn theshoweron, then lather up the geberren root in my hands.

“This will make sure none of the ichor remains,” I say, taking her arm and working the lather into her skin. I am careful, thorough, being sure to clean every part of her arms and hands where it might have splashed. When I am certain that no ichor could possibly remain on her skin, I draw her a little closer to the spray, rinsing away the geberren root. Her skin feels so delicate under my hands. I linger a little longer than necessary, tracing my fingers over it, appeasing the hunger for now.

When the water shuts off, I stop, grabbing one of the drying pelts and bringing it to her. Once she is dried, I inspect her one last time, searching for any hint of redness. There is none. Her coverings did the trick, or we have washed away the ichor in time.

“No irritation. I think you are spared the itching discomfort I suffered.”

I glance at her, find her staring at me, lips parted, her expression soft, colour blooming in her cheeks and down her throat. Her eyes look darker than usual, her pupils blown wide, and they are fixed on my mouth. The hunger in me roars, and I do not think I am mistaken to think I hear her own hunger responding.

I grin at her.

“My Angie,” I say, leaning close to her. “My little flame.”

Her next breath shudders into her lungs, her pulse fluttering in her throat. I want to press my lips to it, to taste her skin.

Her expression hardens, her next breath stronger. But just as I think she is going to pull away from me, her arms go around my neck, her body presses close, and her lips almost slam against mine.

I have seen plenty of the gentle kisses my sisters share with their mates, and my Angie’s kiss is nothing like them. It is hard, demanding. She leads me and I am powerless but to follow wherever it is she wishes me to go. Soon we are breathless, panting, my lips bruised and swollen by her affections. Her hands are in my hair, pulling again. Not quite with the force she used when she tried to pull it right off my head, but with enough for it to sting a little. And I love it. My cock strains against my leathers, my whole body aching with need to be rid of the clothing between us.

But as my fingers close around the hem of her top, tugging it upwards, she stops abruptly, grabbing my hand and glancing at the door.

“Enywuncudcuminere,” she hisses, and though I do not understand her words, I know what her complaint is. Humans are curiously shy about their bodies. They do not like to be seen naked. To be seen naked and being mated must be worse.

A good male would take his female somewhere private, would immediately take her to his room, where she would be comfortable to receive his pleasure. But my thoughts run in a different direction. I find I want to know how undone she would have to be to take pleasure from me here. In this room where anyone might walk in.

I think she must see something in my eyes, because her brows furrow, her eyes narrowing as she looks up at me. This little taste of her ferocity only makes my cock throb harder and before she can say another thing, I kiss her again, taking control this time. I kiss her so thoroughly, there is nothing she can do but kiss me back, my tongue dancing with hers as my hands roam all over her body. She is not too thin like so many of her other sisters were, my questing palms finding only curves and softness beneath them. So lush. I want to taste every part of her.

I lift her up into my arms, carrying her from the shower area to the place between the two rows of cabinets. The place where she hid and spied on me in theshowerwhat feels already like a lifetime ago.

“Do you remember that moment as vividly as I do?” I murmur into her ear as I set her down, caging her in with my body. “A poor unsuspecting male, just trying to get a wash, and a wicked female looking on, planning her attack.”

She does not understand my words, but I infuse them with a heat that she does. Colour rises in her cheeks, creeping up her chest into her neck. She looks at me with pupils blown wide,dark eyes made even darker. I lean close, nip lightly at her earlobe before pressing my face to the crook of her neck.

“Did you like the view?” I say, grazing my fangs across the place where her pulse races. “Did the sight of my backside have you pressing your thighs together to contain the want?”

I trail a finger up the inside of her thigh. A place she is particularly sensitive if I judged our time in the dreamspace correctly.

She whimpers, her eyes fluttering shut. It is confirmation enough for me.

“You are going to be so well pleasured, my Angie.” I nip at her skin, soothing the spot afterwards with my lips and tongue. “This is going to be the first of many, many times I have you screaming my name.”

I raise my hand to her waistband, tug it open. My Angie gasps, but she does not open her eyes. Only arches her hips slightly closer to me. Satisfaction roars louder than the hunger. I have made her forget everything but my touch and the strongest pride I have ever felt fills my chest.

“Perfect,” I say against her lips before kissing her, and sliding my hand beneath her clothes, down between her thighs.

She gasps into my mouth as my fingers glide through her folds, her hips pressing closer to me again, greedy for my touch. I use my other hand to grip the back of her head, sinking my fingers into her hair and tilting her back so I can plunder her mouth. Her hands grip my vest before sliding up around my neck.

So much slick has already gathered beneath my fingers, her desire for me plain. I want to draw my hand back, taste her, but I resist for now, sliding my fingers over her cunt. Learning the shape of her, and what touches make her moan. My brothers have spoken much of the place at the peak of a human female’s cunt that gives them the most pleasure. I seek it out now, payingclose attention to my Angie’s responses. I know when I have found it because she chokes back a cry.

“Ohfuck,” she moans as I begin to circle the spot, gently at first, but growing more firm with my touches, building her up.

Soon she is writhing beneath me, panting so hard I can no longer kiss her. I switch my attentions to her neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. She groans, hips bucking against my hand.

“Sogud,” she says. “Sofuckingud.”

Her hands roam over my chest, my face, little palms hot, her whole body burning with pleasure. I kiss her jaw, her cheek, then claim her lips for a brief moment as I slide my fingers back through her folds, seeking her entrance. When I find it, I circle it once, twice, then plunge my finger deep.

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