Page 179 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

She lifts our intertwined hands, wrapping my arm around her with her own.

My face goes naturally to the curve of her neck, my breath tickling through her hair.

I nuzzle at her skin, running my nose along its softness as I inhale her delicious scent.

A gasp escapes her lip, her breath hitching on the way back in, so I press my lips to the spot on her neck just beneath the shell of her ear, kissing a gentle path downward.

She shuffles back into me, her free hand reaching up to my face, sinking into my hair.

My cock strains against my leathers, pressing into the soft flesh of her backside, and she does not freeze up or shy away from it.

The elders spoke at length to me and my brothers about the ways of mating, but I confess, I never paid much attention.

It seemed so pointless - a cruel sort of torture to torment us with something we would never have.

Because of this, I have no strong sense of what to do, except to follow the instincts of my body and hers.

I run my free hand over her curves, learning the shape of her hips, her breasts.

Learning which places make her breath come quicker, which touches make her press tighter against me.

I am cautious about removing her clothing. The last time my greedy hands roamed over her bared skin, I pushed her too far, too quickly. But when my fingers brush the hem of her shirt, hesitate there, she releases her grip on my hand. Takes hold of her shirt and pulls it off for me.

I turn her in my arms so I can claim her lips, learning the planes of her back with my palms. Our tongues twine together in a slow dance.

I liked the frenzied passion of our kisses in the drawing cave, but I like this better.

It feels like something we are giving to each other, rather than something we are trying to steal.

I lift her once more into my arms, carrying her through to my bedroom.

I have imagined many times what it would be like to lie her down on my bed.

In my imaginings, she looked at me with desire, her cheeks flushed.

Instead, our lips barely break from each other as I shuffle us onto the bed until she is lying the proper way across it.

My weight settles over hers, pressing her down into the pelts, and it is a deep kind of bliss I had never had the capacity to imagine.

I am a lot bigger than her, yet we still manage to slot together perfectly, my cock pressed into the heat between her thighs, the sensation intense despite the layers of leather between us.

Driven by some deep instinct more than thought, I rock my hips against hers.

My Carrie gasps into my mouth, the sound one of pleasure. A growl rips from my throat, that sound sending me almost feral with need, and I grind my hips against hers again.

“Oh,” she says, tipping her head back so her lips are out of reach, but revealing much of her sensitive neck to me. I kiss along it, rolling my hips into hers in a steady rhythm. Her blunt little claws dig into my shoulders before she catches my face, guiding my lips back to hers.

Heat builds between us, our kiss growing more frantic. A quiet voice in the back of my headspace tells me to slow, to wrest back some control over my actions. But every time the thought gains coherent form, my Carrie gasps or groans, or wriggles underneath me, driving all sense out of my headspace.

Her fingers tug on my top, and I rip it over my head in one movement, tearing through the band that covers her breasts a moment later.

My Carrie is not so lost to her passions that she does not utter a sound of protest at my careless destruction of her garment, and a part of me does contract with guilt that I have destroyed something she has worked hard to make.

But then her hands start to roam over my chest and I am lost to everything but her touch.

When I tug her trousers down, along with the strange undergarment that the human females favour, her arousal scent perfumes the air, thick and delicious.

I remain lying next to her, and run my hand along her inner thigh, brushing my fingers along her core.

Wetness coats her and I groan low in my throat to feel it.

With one arm beneath her, pinning her to my chest as I kiss her, I explore her with my other hand, stroking through her folds as I seek that secret place that exists between a female’s thighs.

When my thumb brushes over a nub of flesh at the peak of her cunt, my Carrie makes a shrill sound, her hips bucking into me.

I growl again, delighted by her response, and continue to tease that sensitive bud. Soon she is gasping with need, almost mewling between our kisses, and I love it. Her noises thrill me, and I am gripped by the urge to hear what sounds would escape her lips when she peaks.

I return to kissing her neck so that she might moan and babble all she likes without me swallowing the sounds.

My fingers slide through her slick heat, slotting against her entrance.

I press into it, her body resisting me a little, before she relaxes on a long exhale.

The walls of her cunt grip my finger, and a jolt of pleasure rips through me at the thought of sinking my cock into her tight heat.

Working her bud with my thumb, I pump my finger into her, rubbing against her inner walls.

She writhes against me, her thighs closing tight on my arm as her pleasure increases.

She pants, her breath hot against my skin, sweat beading on her chest. I lap and suckle at the point where her neck meets her shoulder, nipping at her skin with my fangs, before soothing over it with my tongue.

Then, with a sharp cry, her body convulses, her cunt squeezing at my finger as her back arches off the bed. Deep satisfaction rumbles through me as my Carrie’s body goes liquid next to me, every muscle she has relaxing in the wake of her release.

My female. My perfect female. I will give her such pleasures every night if she desires it. I doubt there could be any greater satisfaction than having her come apart in my arms.