Page 61 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ellie

I t’s at least five minutes before I fully catch my breath. Every nerve in my body sings with the pleasure Anghar just wrung out of me. I wait for the high to pass, for the feelings of degradation, of shame to creep in.

They don’t. It’s a new sensation.

Anghar strokes my arm, trailing his fingers from my shoulder all the way down to my wrist, then returning to my shoulder and starting again.

It’s as if he can’t get enough of touching me.

Back home, once men got what they wanted, they couldn’t wait to be shot of me.

Anghar hasn’t even got anything for himself out of this encounter, and yet he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to get it.

He just holds me, feathering little kisses against the sensitised skin on my neck.

His tail is looped round my leg and I’m wondering if I should feel more weird about that than I do.

The cool breeze coming in through the open cave entrance makes the sweat prickle on my skin.

I’d be cold, but Anghar is like a furnace beside me, the heat of his big body soaking into mine.

The hard bar of his erection is pressed against me, even hotter than the rest of him, but he doesn’t grind into me, or do anything to move towards his own pleasure.

I appreciate that. I’m a little nervous about taking the next step - not just because of the ‘what has he even got going on down there’ factor.

Sex was always at best uncomfortable back home.

I know that’s not how it’s supposed to go, and Anghar’s shown that my body is capable of the kinds of pleasure I’d only ever heard gossip about before.

But tension is creeping back into my limbs at the thought of him inside me, nerves making my heart race.

I want so badly for this to be good between us.

Want so badly for this little taste of heaven he’s given me to follow through into everything we share together.

I roll over so I’m facing him, run my hands over his chest again. Try to recapture that feeling of curiosity I had before when we were just kissing. God, I could kiss him all night and be satisfied with that. But also, I want to give him the release he’s given me. I want to do that for him.

So I reach down, brush my fingers past the waistband of his trousers, trace the outline of his cock.

Anghar sucks in a breath, his eyes closing.

His hand goes to the back of my neck, toying with my hair.

I love how the slightly rough pads of his fingers feel as they graze over my skin, sending shivers through me.

I try to concentrate on that sensation as I tug at the ties of Anghar’s trousers.

But my hands are trembling, and my fingers get tangled up.

Anghar catches my hand gently, drawing it back up to his chest, holding it there with his own, pressed against the spot where his heart beats. He kisses my forehead, then my lips, a soft, lingering touch.

“More ? ” he says, his voice gentle, no demand to it. Just a sweet, hopeful question without any expectation.

I ache to give him more, and that ache is louder than any of my nerves.

“Yes.”

He smiles, kisses me again, then unties his trousers, pushing them down.

For a moment, I just stare at him, taking in the defined v of his abs.

The way it points down, down, down to a patch of hair surrounding the base of his thick shaft.

It looks much like human equipment, only bigger.

A patch of his skin just above it looks different to the rest - rougher, raised just a little.

It’s the only thing about him that’s unfamiliar.

I reach for him, closing my fingers around his cock and squeezing a little as I drag my hand from the base to the tip.

Anghar groans, finding my lips again and kissing me hard.

I got the impression when I first kissed him that it wasn’t something he’d ever done before.

But now he takes full control, plundering my mouth, making me squirm with desire.

I pump my hand up and down his length, trying to give him the same pleasure he gave me.

And though part of my awareness is taken up with the size of him, the prickle of anxiety that there’s no way I’m going to be able to enjoy having him inside me, most of me is just enjoying the way Anghar responds to my touch.

The way he moans low in his throat as I work him with my hand.

The way his whole body seems to shudder with the effort of containing himself.

Soon, he’s breathing too hard to kiss me, holding his face close to mine instead as his eyes pinch shut, his whole body coiled, completely in my control.

It’s beautiful, and I want to watch him climax, but just as I think he’s about to reach his peak, he grabs my hand, pinning it above my head.

He growls a few words into my ear, and though I don’t understand any except his name for me - linasha - just the tone he uses has me pressing my thighs together and whimpering.

Then he rolls on top of me, giving me another breathtaking kiss.

His legs nudge mine apart as he settles himself between them.

One of his hands is still pinning mine above my head, the other strokes up my thigh and then dips between my legs, stroking my clit until I’m keening with need.

He slips his fingers lower, pressing at my entrance, slipping one inside me.

I tense a little, but I’m so wet there’s no resistance, and with his thumb still on my clit he begins to pump his finger in and out.

I’m panting, writhing beneath him as he builds me towards another shattering climax.

A second finger joins the first, stretching me. It’s not pain so much as a sweet ache, and when he curls his fingers, he hits a spot that sends such a tidal wave of pleasure through me that my vision goes white.

“Anghar,” I gasp, barely able to form the syllables of his name.

He brings his face close to mine, a look of mischief in his eyes.

“More?” he says.

“Yes, more, please,” I beg, so close to the edge of release I’m sure one more stroke would send me over.

Instead, he draws his fingers out of me, shifting his body so our hips align. I can feel his cock nudging at me, and then, in one long stroke, he presses inside me.

My body clenches as my orgasm rips through me, my core convulsing around him. I pant and moan as the pleasure overwhelms me, while Anghar just holds still, letting me come back down before he meets my gaze again, a cocky little half smile still on his face.

“More?” he says.

Fuck yes, more.

“Yes,” I tell him. And when he draws almost all the way out of me and thrusts back in, I tell him again. “Yes.”

He picks up his pace, driving into me over and over.

And that strange patch of skin sits right on my clit, its texture similar to his tongue.

It feels like I’m being licked and fucked at the same time, and I think the pleasure of it might actually kill me.

Did I think moments ago that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this?

Anghar continues to prove me very, very wrong about that for quite some time, thrusting into me with increasing intensity.

His eyes lock on mine in a way that’s strangely more intimate than anything else we’re doing.

It feels like he’s looking straight into my soul.

And I like it. I like being seen by him.

I try to hold his gaze, but before long another orgasm is rolling through me, my eyes closing as the pleasure overcomes me once again.

Anghar presses kisses to my face, my neck, before a low growl rumbles from his throat and he reaches his own climax with a few last pumps.

After a moment, he rolls to the side, lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the cave overhead.

His arm slips beneath me, pulling me to him, our bodies pressed together, as if he can’t bear to be parted from me even by a few inches.

It’s like every part of me is vibrating with the pleasure he’s given me, but I’m also suddenly exhausted.

I think it’s because I’ve relaxed, letting go of the last bits of tension I was carrying.

I feel safe and loved for the first time in my entire life, and though I want nothing more than to lie in Anghar’s arms, enjoying the aftermath of our lovemaking, my eyes grow impossibly heavy.

I fight it for a moment, but Anghar catches me and grins.

“Rest,” he says, stroking my arm. “ Nhi Ellie.”

His soft words are all the invitation I need.

And then I’m in a tent, not a cave. I feel refreshed and light, my body no longer burdened with tiredness. I’m wearing a pretty, floaty dress that doesn’t look like any Earth fashion I’ve ever seen. I touch a hand to the side of my head, feeling the curls there.

“Why do you always do that, linasha?” Anghar asks, and I jump in surprise.

After days of not seeing him here, only having seven words to communicate with him, I’d almost forgotten that we could understand each other in this strange dream world.

“Why do you touch your head that way? Does it pain you?”

He’s sitting across from me, and shuffles to my side, touching his own hand to the side of my head just as I had done, a look of concern in his eyes.

“No,” I say. “I was just… This is going to sound strange, but, I was just checking my hair was there.”

Anghar tips his head to one side. “Why do you think it would not be?”

“Because. My… tribe leaders - they used to make me shave it all off. Me and the other women I worked with. I’m so used to being bald, I expect it to be gone when I’m here, dreaming.”

“Do you wish for it to be gone? I could help you cut it in the morning, if you would like that?”

“No, I want it to grow,” I say. “I like it.”

“I like it, too,” Anghar says, toying with the spot at the back of my neck again. “Though I would like you any way you chose to be, my Ellie.”

“Even if I had no hair?” I say, arching a brow.

“Of course,” he says without hesitation.

There’s nothing in his face that says he’s being disingenuous, but my mind echoes with the insults the upper tier boys used to fling at me and the other girls, the ones the warehouse supervisors used to use when they’d taken what they wanted from us - as if they had to prove their derision for us.

Just in case anyone got the mistaken idea we were more than just bodies to them.

Anghar pulls me into his lap, his arms going around me.

“You went a very long way away right then, linasha,” he says.

“Just remembering the past.”

“Will you speak of it to me?”

I look up into his warm eyes. There’s no guile in him, I think, no deceit. He’s strangely innocent. I don’t want to bring my darkness into his life.

“I’m afraid you won’t want to touch me again if I tell you,” I say, pressing my face to his chest.

“My Ellie, nothing could make me not want to touch you, but one thing. If you told me not to.” He gives a sheepish little smile. “And even then, part of me would still want to.”

He strokes a thumb down my neck; the touch making me shiver.

“Lina brought you to my dreams, my Ellie. You are my mate and I am yours. Nothing can change that. You do not need to be afraid.”

He’s so certain. I think of how I ran from him, how he chased after me, looked after me, defended me. Risked his life. He’s never wavered. He’s trusted in his goddess all this time.

I’m still not sure about goddesses, but I should trust in him. I owe him that much.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll tell you.”