Page 57 of The Weaver

But she was curious about something else.

Her gaze slowly dipped along the rigid, muscular plates of his abdomen, toward his pelvis. His vertical slit, more defined in the light, remained tightly closed, with his claspers tucked against his body.

Ahmya caught her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it. What…did his cock look like? Did it resemble a human’s at all, or was it wildly different? The only detail Ivy had given away was that Ketahn’s cock matched the color of his markings…

So was Rekosh’s truly a vibrant red?

Callie’s teasing words danced through Ahmya’s head.

A red rocket.

Wicked whispers of arousal stirred within her core. Unbidden, she recalled the feel of his tongue dragging through her pussy. Its wet glide had evoked such startling pleasure.

Now, she was haunted by what-ifs. What if she hadn’t pushed him away? What if she’d let him continue, what if she’d let him lick her again and again?

That single stroke of his tongue on her clit had felt sublime. How much pleasure would he have given her if she hadn’t stopped him?

She squeezed her thighs tighter together as warmth suffused her.

Rekosh’s claspers twitched and shifted, crossing firmly over his slit. He chittered, jarring Ahmya from her thoughts. Her wide eyes shot up to his.

He was looking at her, head tilted, mandibles lifted. “You are…keeping watch?”

Quickly sitting up, Ahmya spun on the rock to give Rekosh her back.

I’m certainly keeping watch of something.

Her cheeks blazed. What was wrong with her?

Simple. You’re a horny virgin who wants to get fucked.

By Rekosh.

“Uh, yes!” Ahmya called. “Keeping watch. Yep.”

Liar.

She heard water sloshing around his legs as he moved toward her. Folding her hands in her lap, she peeked up at him as he moved to her front. His black hide glistened. Though he still favored his left foreleg, he seemed to be able to place more weight upon it than he had yesterday.

“So, um, what’s the plan?” she asked in a desperate attempt to focus on anything besides her arousal.

He stopped at his bag, which was propped beside a rock a few feet away, and opened it to retrieve his waterskin. “We must go back to Kaldarak.”

Ahmya knew that. She did. It was the obvious answer. But strangely, hearing it dampened her good humor. She didn’t understand why. She’d been welcomed there, her friends were there, her new home was there. She was safe there.

But despite all that, she still felt alone in Kaldarak. Alone and lost, with no true direction. She felt as though there were expectations always pressing down on her, but she didn’t even know what they were. She was floundering.

And those feelings had been at their worst during those long weeks while Rekosh was gone.

Some part of her recognized that the problem wasn’t with Kaldarak or any of the people there. It was a restlessness in her, a sense of…of constant inadequacy.

“I guess I was more curious about howwe’re going to do that,” she said.

“Me too.” Rekosh returned to the water’s edge, opened the waterskin, and dipped it in.

Ahmya’s brow pinched as she turned to face him. “You too?”

He nodded, lifted the waterskin, and closed it before returning it to his bag. She watched water dripping from his hide as he settled down on a carpet of green grass in front of her rock with his injured foreleg stretched out next to her.

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