Page 27 of Alokar
I kept my hips angled carefully away, my cock’s turgid response to her closeness hidden in the shadows, unwilling to burden her with the evidence of how completely she undid me. If holding her was all I was ever allowed, it would be enough.
From across the clearing, I caught the rumble of voices as Hank and Rodney emerged from their tents to tend the dying fire, and I couldn’t suppress a low chuckle at the bitter edge to their conversation.
“What?” Hannah murmured against my skin, her breath creating tingles of sensation wherever it touched.
“Rodney is displeased that I share your tent,” I murmured diplomatically, choosing not to repeat his crude speculation about our activities.
“Good,” she snort-giggled, the sound vibrating against my chest.
“He desires you,” I said, unable to keep the possessive growl from my voice. Even now, the acrid oil of his arousal polluted the night air, made more repulsive by his assumption that she was finding pleasure in another’s arms. “I do not like it. He smells corrupted.”
“He is,” she grumbled, and I caught the edge that sharpened her voice like a blade.
Protectiveness flared through me like wildfire. “Has he hurt you?” I would gladly paint the mountainside with his blood if he had dared touch her without welcome.
“Not really,” Hannah sighed, nestling deeper into my embrace as if seeking shelter from the memory. “He’s a few years older than me, and back when I was in high school, he made a pass at me—got kind of handsy. My dad kicked his ass.”
“I like your father more and more,” I said, earning another giggle that seemed to chase away the shadows of her unpleasant memory. “Although a part of me cannot entirely blame Rodney for his feelings.”
“What do you mean?” Her voice carried curiosity rather than offense, and I felt her shift slightly to look up at me.
“I really liked kissing you,” I confessed, the words emerging like a prayer whispered to the stars.
The silence that followed was pregnant with possibility, stretching between us like a bridge waiting to be crossed, weighted with all the things we dared yet to say.
“I liked kissing you, too,” Hannah whispered, her admission floating between us.
We slipped back into silence, but it was a silence punctuated by the rapid beating of both our hearts, the sound seeming to echo in the confined space around us.
Finally, Hannah’s soft sigh broke the stillness. “I know I said no more kissing, but I think I should amend that rule.” Even in the darkness, I could feel the weight of her gaze on me, her eyes searching my face. “No more kissing unless we are in a tent together on a chilly night.”
“You mean?” I was too scared to let myself hope, my voice barely above a whisper.
A faint chuckle escaped her lips, and I felt the gentle pressure of her palm as it traveled slowly up my chest, her fingers tracing along my skin before curving around the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
“Kiss me, Ewok.”
I drew her against me, my hands finding the gentle curve of her waist as I lifted her until our eyes met in the moonlight filtering through the tent walls. When our lips finally touched, it was like coming home after a lifetime of wandering—a perfect, breathless moment that seemed to suspend time itself.Her lips parted beneath mine and the kiss deepened naturally, unhurried, as if we had all the time in the world to discover each other.
Her arms wound around my shoulders, and I felt the delicate flutter of her pulse against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own racing heart. Every sensation felt heightened—the softness of her lips, the way her breath mingled with mine, the way our tongues slid around each other, the quiet sighs that escaped between kisses.
I had dreamed of this moment, imagining what it would feel like to hold her close, to once again taste the sweetness of her kiss, to hear the gentle sounds of contentment she made as she melted into my embrace.
But reality surpassed every fantasy. The way she fit perfectly in my arms, the warmth that radiated between us, the urgency in her touch—it all felt like a beautiful dream I never wanted to wake from.
My hands moved reverently along her sides, memorizing every curve, every soft contour, pausing respectfully as my knuckles grazed the curve of her breast, feeling the quickening of her breath against my neck. She pulled back slightly, her eyes luminous in the darkness, searching mine with a vulnerability that made my heart ache with tenderness.
With trembling fingers, she slowly unfastened her shirt, letting it slip from her shoulders. Then, with a shy grace that took my breath away, she lifted the wrapping she referred to as a bra over her head, revealing flawless skin that seemed to glow like moonlight on water, so beautiful it made me dizzy.
“Touch me, Ewok,” Hannah whispered, her voice like silk against the darkness, her breath a warm caress against my ear before she pressed her lips to mine again.
I kissed her deeply as my hands moved with trembling wonder, fingertips tracing the delicate landscape of her skin as if I were reading poetry written in starlight. Her skin was the softest thing imaginable, her breasts like plump little pillows capped by tender peaks that hardened under my fingertips. She drew in a breath that was half gasp, half sigh, the sound sending shivers through my soul.
The air between us grew thick with the intoxicating fragrance of her arousal—like wildflowers drenched in honey and spice, mixed with the faintest trace of pine that was uniquely, beautifully Hannah. My hands settled on the graceful curve of her hips, anchoring myself in this moment that felt too perfect to be real. When I pulled back to look at her, her eyes were storm clouds, half-closed and dreamy.
My lips found the delicate hollow of her throat, where her pulse danced like butterfly wings, then traced a path of gentle kisses along the elegant line of her collarbone. Her skin held the sweetness of honey and rain, and each kiss I placed against it was a reverent prayer to the goddess for granting me this moment. I worshipped at the altar of her breasts, my tongue painting love letters in circles around her hardened nipples until she arched like a flower reaching for sunlight, her fingers weaving through my hair.
“Hannah,” I whispered against her stomach, following the invisible trail of her scent downward. “You smell so delicious. Please. Can I taste you?” My words came out gruff,with a hint of pleading. If there was anything worth begging for in the universe. This was it.
