Page 180 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Carrie

I t takes a long time for my heartbeat to slow.

Endzoh runs his hands over my skin in languid strokes, looking down at me with something like smug pride in his expression.

Because he’s pleased that I’m in his bed, or because he’s pleased he’s made me come so hard?

Either way, it’s endearing, and I bask in the warmth of his body surrounding me, and the ripples of pleasure that pass through me every so often - pale in comparison to my climax, but still delicious.

Slowly, my body comes back to me, the boneless feeling receding.

I’m warm and satisfied and a little sleepy, but I’m all too aware that Endzoh must not be.

The hard bar of his cock is pressed against my thigh, huge and hot.

My heart flutters when I think about it, my throat growing dry - half fear, half anticipation.

I’ve never touched a cock before, I don’t really know what to do with one, except that it goes inside you - in the same place that felt filled by his finger.

I don’t know how that place is supposed to take something the size of his cock, and it surprises me that it clenches, sending a wave of hot pleasure through me, at the thought.

Endzoh strokes my face, drawing my gaze to him.

You okay?

His hand gestures are close, disturbing the air over my skin. I’m so sensitised, it makes me shiver.

I reach for his face, drawing his lips back down to mine to let him know just how okay I am.

How much I appreciate the question. He’s so observant of my moods - a lifetime spent on the edges of the tribe, watching, teaching him how to read people, I guess.

Or maybe it’s just me he’s paid such close attention to. It’s a heady thought.

I trust him. I trust him with my heart. I gave it to him in the clearing with the butterflies. Because I wanted him to know that it belonged to him, however my shifts in mood might make it look.

I want to be able to talk to him, I realise. I want the dreamspace to form so he doesn’t have any need to doubt, but also so I can explain everything. About the butterflies, how I’d felt something earlier this night, and if I had to give it a name, it would be ‘Lina’s hand’.

Guiding me to him. My fairytale prince.

And that thought makes me realise something.

All those stories Mom told me as a little girl - it wasn’t just to protect me from the cruel reality of Mercenia’s world.

She told me them for the same reason she worked her fingers to the bone on extra commissions, then saved all the credits for the future, rather than spending them to make our lives a little easier in the now.

Because she believed there was something better for me, and she wanted to help me be ready for it any way she could. By saving me some extra credits. And filling my head full of stories about true love’s kiss - so I would know it when I felt it.

Endzoh’s lips move against mine, the perfect combination of soft and firm.

The heat of his mouth on mine makes my whole body melt, the graze of his fingers against my skin sending shivers of pleasure through me.

I trace the craggy shape of his features with my hands.

He’s not handsome like the princes in the stories, but when did being handsome matter worth a damn over kindness, compassion, gentleness, and all the other ways his spirit is beautiful?

At the next pause in our kiss, I look up at Endzoh. Hold his gaze as I place the heel of my palm on his cock and rub along the length of it.

His breath hisses out of him, his teeth clenching as his eyes pinch shut, his hand gripping the back of my neck. Hot lust rips through me at his reaction, and when he drags me into another kiss, a fierce, demanding kiss, I’m just as demanding when I return it.

My fingers find the ties on his trousers.

The moment I have them loose, he shoves his trousers down, kicking them off the end of his feet.

I wrap my fingers around his cock, stroking him, feeling it jerk and twitch against my hand.

Liquid leaks from its tip, and I swipe my thumb through it, brushing it over the smooth head.

Endzoh’s growl is animalistic, his hips bucking, forcing his cock through my fingers.

A pulse of need fires between my legs, my doubts about the practicalities of the act fading at the thought of him thrusting into me like that.

Fucking me like that. A whimper that’s all need passes my lips, and he captures it with his kiss, before shifting so he’s over me, our bodies perfectly aligned.

My thighs are soaked with my renewed desire, and Endzoh slides his cock over me, coating himself, before settling at my entrance.

“Nhi Carrie,” he growls, before pressing into me.

There’s a pain, yes, a sensation of stretching, filling past the point of comfort.

But he kisses me, slicking his tongue over mine, as he seats himself, gripping my body to him, stroking his hand through my hair.

I lean into the pleasure of his touch, allowing the rest of me to relax, to open to him.

And then the fullness, the stretch, it starts to feel good.

Better than good.

He’s slow and deliberate as he moves inside me, drawing in and out in a steady pace.

I can tell from the way his shoulder muscles bunch that he’s holding himself back, and I run my palms over them, acknowledging his restraint, grateful for it.

The sensations he draws from my body are overwhelming and anything more in this moment would be too much.

I want to feel everything we do together, register every slide of our bodies against each other, not get lost in it just yet.

Soon, we’re both breathing hard. His hands quest over my skin, finding my breasts and squeezing, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. I arch into that touch, trying to encourage him. His tail brushes along my leg before wrapping round it, squeezing.

As the pleasure builds inside me, a tight ball of it, growing bigger and bigger, pushing closer to bursting point, my movements grow more frantic.

I dig my nails into his shoulders, needing his abandon now.

He gives it to me, his hips snapping against mine in more rapid, jagged movements.

I thought it would feel like an invasion, like being used, to be fucked hard like this.

And it does, but it’s good. So good. I love that it’s me who’s made him lose it like this, that his need for me has overwhelmed him.

It’s a type of power in its way, and I bask in it, my own pleasure building higher and higher until it explodes inside me, ripping a cry from my lips.

Endzoh roars as he slams into me, intensifying my orgasm, prolonging it, until a second rips through me before the first has even finished. Then, with a final, stuttering movement, I feel a surge inside me as he reaches his own peak.

We’re both sticky, sweaty, as he withdraws from me, shifting us so we are beneath his furs.

He pulls me against him, my back to his chest, our hearts both beating so hard, the feeling of their pounding echoes through my bones.

My pussy continues to throb every so often with the last dying embers of my climax, and as my consciousness starts to drift, I’ve never felt happier, more right in my life.

It’s early when I wake. I can tell by the quality of the light that slips past the curtain in the bedroom doorway.

The fire already crackles in the next room, and I can hear Endzoh’s bustling movement.

Though part of me is a little disappointed not to wake with his arms wrapped around me, there’s something delicious about the homeyness of hearing him go about his business next door while I lie in his bed.

Our bed. It’s definitely ours now. I don’t intend to sleep in my own ever again.

I sit pulling up the furs to cover my nakedness.

My top is on the floor next door, I recall, not within easy grabbing reach.

I’m a little sore, particularly between my legs - the muscles of my inner thighs aching as much as my core - but it’s not unpleasant.

I stretch my arms and legs out, a feeling of deep comfort and satisfaction chasing away my aches.

The curtain parts, and Endzoh enters, carrying a steaming cup. He’s dressed in fresh clothes, and he perches on the edge of the bed as he hands the drink to me. I recognise the smell of my root tea as I draw it to my face, and this little gesture fills my heart with so much love for him.

“Maha shun, ” I say, taking a cautious sip.

There’s a bitter tang to the drink that it doesn’t normally have, and I recognise the flavour of djenti berries.

He must have gone to the healer’s hut to fetch me some.

Again, I’m overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, and I set my cup down, holding my arms out to him.

I hug him tight, kissing him briefly, before making just enough space between us to make the ‘my heart is yours’ gesture.

He strokes his thumb over my face, tracing the line of my cheek, my brow, before brushing over my lips.

I drink my tea while he potters around. Along with the root powder, he’s fetched me some clothes from my hut, and after I’m finished drinking, I clean myself up and get dressed.

When I emerge from the bedroom, he’s sitting in one of the two chairs by the fire, working on what looks like a leather belt.

I’m curious about this hobby of his. I’ve only seen him working on leather once before, when we visited the cave yesterday.

I sit down next to him, picking up the tail end of the belt, running my fingers over the patterns he’s pressed into it.

Beautiful swirls, and repeating shapes, almost like flowers.

I’ve never seen craftsmanship like it. The dresses we made in the dressmakers never had any leather elements.

I look up to find Endzoh watching me.

You like? he gestures.