Page 75 of Whispers of the Void

The sharp scratch of her nails on my chest brings me right back into the moment as she rides me. She grips me for support as her speed increases. The single place where we’re joined isn’t enough, I need to feel her against me.

I sit up, holding her tight to me as I thrum for her. Her hands move up my chest and over my shoulders until her fingers thread themselves through my hair. She rests her forehead against mine while she continues to ride me.

“Raiz,” she whispers my name against my lips. “Stars.”

I know. Her two panted words carry a deeper meaning infinitely greater than their definitions.

Her walls tighten. She tosses her head back as she pulses around me. Her wet heat feels too good for me to hold my climax back. My seed fills her in wicked bursts as she clings to me, still trembling. I wrap my arms around her as we both come back down from the high and she melts against me.

CHAPTER24

NEEV

* * *

Raiz lays me down before walking into the bathroom. I can’t even think about moving right now, so I just lie here and listen to the sound of water running. I watch with curiosity as he brings a wet cloth out and pulls my legs apart.

The warmth soothes my skin, seeping into the sore muscles and relaxing them. I can’t help wondering if this is a common thing that males do on Zeahiri. My experience with partners has not included any type of doting care following the act of sex. Then again, I’ve not had many partners.

Maybe Torre was the problem.

Or maybe she just wasn’t the right person for me.

“Thank you.”I use mind speak because the quiet of the room as he cleans me up and takes care of me seems too sacred to breach.

He smiles at me. “You’re welcome.”

I’ve really come to enjoy the Zeahirian lackadaisical view of nudity. Watching this male move around without a single part of his god-like body covered is beginning to be my favorite pastime. Every bit of his body is perfectly muscled and honed into his dangerous physique.

Which is why I frown when he walks over and grabs a pair of his favorite lounge pants to pull on. I suppose I can still ogle him shirtless with mused hair. He looks over when I scoot to the edge of the bed and stand to grab myself some clothes.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Yes.” My stomach rumbles on cue. “Starving apparently.”

“What an odd trait.” He tilts his head. “Does your stomach do that every time you’re hungry?”

“Only when it gets to a certain point, like if I ignore other, more subtle, hunger cues.” I pull on pants and one of his shirts.

“So if you get to this point, I should take it as a failing? That I haven’t ensured you’ve fed recently enough?” He frowns, troubled by this information.

“No.” I hold a hand up. “My hunger and eating aren’t your problem. I’m an adult and am capable of making myself food when I’m hungry.”

“Then why would you let yourself get to the point of your body loudly demanding sustenance?”

“It wasn’t that loud.”

“I beg to differ.” He strides out of the bedroom and over to the kitchen. “What do you want to eat?”

The difficult side of me wants to tell him nothing just to prove a point. But I am hungry, so I give in and list off a few things that sound good. He gets us both drinks while we wait for the food, and I take the opportunity to sit back down with the books I was going through earlier.

“What do you have here?” he asks, putting a glass of water down in front of me.

“Research.” I crack open a medical textbook that I borrowed from Hyva on humans. “I wanted to see if there was anything about the headaches and whisper episodes I have. Why I hear them and couldn’t ever get away on my own until you came along.”

“You can leave the room on your own now?”

“Yes. I did while I was unconscious after the attack.” I flip through pages of irrelevant information. “Maybe you forged a pathway for me?”

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