Page 80 of Tharn's Hunt
"Please," I whisper, voice husky with a need that makes me tremble.
He looks up at me, his amber eyes molten, burning with a hunger that mirrors my own. Then he lowers his head between my thighs.
My back arches off the ground as his hot breath ghosts over my folds. His scent is intoxicating. I whimper, my fingers fisting in the soft sand, waiting, begging.
And then his tongue touches me.
A broad, hot, purposeful stroke, right over my clit. A shockwave of pure pleasure rips through me. My whole body jolts. The universe implodes.
He makes a low, satisfied sound against my skin, a rumbling growl that vibrates through my entire being. His hands grip my thighs, holding me steady as he licks again, slower this time, learning my shape. He tastes me, his tongue tracing patterns that make my hips buck, chasing the pleasure he's creating.
One of his claws traces a line from my hip bone down to the wet curls between my legs, dipping into my slickness. He brings the finger to his mouth, tasting me, his golden eyes never leaving mine. The look in them is pure, savage possession.
Mine. The thought is his, a brand on my soul.
He goes back to work, his tongue now relentless. Lapping, sucking, flicking. He finds a rhythm that has my vision going blurry, my moans turning into shameless, breathless cries. I'm close, so close, the pleasure coiling tight in my gut, a breath from release.
"Tharn," I gasp, my body shaking.
He answers by pressing the hard ridge of his nose against my clit while his tongue continues its assault, adding a deep, perfect pressure that shatters my control.
I jolt awake, a gasp caught in my throat, my body flushed and trembling with a need so intense it's almost painful. For a moment, I'm disoriented, the dream still vivid in my mind as reality slowly reasserts itself.
I'm lying on the hard ground of a cave. Not surrounded by golden light, no kneeling Tharn, and no mouth between my legs.
Oh, thank God.
And also,damn it.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will away the lingering arousal, the phantom sensation of his hands on my thighs, his mouth?—
Nope. Not going there. Not thinking about it.
When I open my eyes again, the first thing I see is Tharn, standing near the cave entrance, his massive silhouette outlined against the growing light of dawn. He's perfectly still, except for his head, which turns slightly toward me, those amber eyes finding mine across the distance with unerring accuracy.
Did he... could he have somehow sensed my dream? Felt what I was feeling?
Oh God, please no.
I quickly look away, heat flooding my face as I sit up, pretending to be very interested in smoothing out the wrinkles in my grimy clothes. But I can still feel his gaze on me, making something low in my belly clench with a combination of embarrassment and lingering desire.
This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman. And I’m having wet dreams about an alien on a desert planet in the middle of nowhere. My life has officially gone off the rails.
"We need to get moving," Justine announces, already awake and preppy. Blast her. "That guy from last night might come back with friends."
Right. The rival clan member. The threat. Reality comes crashing back, and I'm almost grateful for the distraction from my hormonal chaos.
"You two go ahead," Justine says to Rok, gesturing between them. "Scout the path. Jacqui and I will follow."
Rok nods, hesitating only briefly before moving ahead with long, fluid strides. Tharn remains rooted in place, his gaze flickering between me and the distant horizon with obvious reluctance.
"He doesn't want to leave you," Justine murmurs beside me. "It's physically painful for him."
I swallow hard, guilt tempering my embarrassment. "The bond thing?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
She nods, her expression softening. "It's getting worse for him. You've noticed, right? The pain?"
I think of the way he collapsed yesterday, the tremors that ran through his massive frame, the way my touch seemed to ease his suffering. "Yeah," I admit quietly. "I've noticed." A knot of guilt and something unexpected—a fierce, protective anger—tightens in my stomach.He's suffering because of me.
