Page 94 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rachel

W hen you grow up hiding in a cupboard while your mother services clients, you learn not to be shy about sex.

People have needs. A raskarran who hasn’t seen a woman for years and suddenly finds himself in really close quarters with one…

Well, I’m not surprised or shocked I found him acting on those needs outside.

But there’s knowing that people touch themselves, and then there’s seeing it right in front of me.

And feeling the hot bolt of lust that ripped through me at the sight, leaving my knees shaking, every muscle in my body working so hard to keep myself upright that I didn’t have it in me to turn away.

I wanted the ground to swallow me up, wanted to curl in on myself and just die.

Stupid, stupid Rachel - so scared the thunder might return, I followed him without pausing to think about what he might be doing sneaking off into the night.

But as he turned away from me, shame and embarrassment clear on his face, I remembered how he held me as the thunder rolled outside.

I’ve been through storms before, but when you’re trapped inside a windowless bedroom, deep inside a factory building, the machinery noises almost drown out the thunderclaps.

I never knew it could be so loud, or that lightning could be so bright.

Vantos probably thought I was being pathetic, but he didn’t mock me, or turn me away. He held me, distracted me.

Gave me what I needed.

And I could do that for him. Give him what he needs.

It won’t mean anything to him. Not in the way it will mean something to me. But I find I don’t care. Not enough to stop, anyway. This torch that I’m carrying for him is going to consume me one way or another. At least this way, I get to touch him.

I need to touch him. A need so urgent it drowns out all my other thoughts and feelings. Every little doubt that this is a good idea, every little internal voice protesting that I should stop - all of them silenced by the weight of that need.

As we sit on the cave floor together, my fingers wrapped around his cock, Vantos holds himself very tight, his whole body tensed, eyes pinched shut.

I stroke my hand from the base of his shaft to the tip, then back down again, applying just a little pressure.

Vantos sucks in a breath, but apart from that little sign, he gives no other indication he’s enjoying my touch.

I raise my other hand to his face, stroking my fingers through his hair, tracing the line of his temple round to his jaw.

So handsome. So proud.

“Let me take care of you,” I whisper to him, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

My fingers move over his silken flesh, his body twitching as his breath shudders out of him, his lips parting.

It’s too delicious a temptation to resist, so I kiss his mouth, nibbling lightly on his bottom lip.

He moans, kissing me back, his hand sliding into my hair.

I squeeze my hand and his hips buck, our kiss breaking as he lets out a hiss of pleasure.

I smile and do it again, loving how his feelings are starting to slip through the cracks.

He grits his teeth, as if he doesn’t wish to lose control, and I think it must be new to him.

Letting go. Giving over his control to someone else.

He’s so measured in everything he does, hated being ill and unable to do anything about it.

It must be hard for him to contemplate giving himself over to his feelings.

Allowing his body and its needs to lead the way.

I like the idea of that, though. Vantos losing it at the touch of my hands. Trusting me with his abandon.

“Aanesh?” I ask, using the raskarran word for ‘good’.

“Rachel.” He says my name on a growl, his fingers tightening in my hair.

I slip closer to him, wanting to feel his body against mine, wanting to register every shudder he gives as I pleasure him.

I kiss his cheek and jaw and neck, delighting in the way he swallows hard when my lips brush over his skin.

I love how with every touch, he comes a little more undone, his need grows a little more raw.

He’s already practically naked, but I feel like I’m undressing him.

Uncovering the real Vantos. Driving him wild.

And I know it’s not me, not really. I’m nothing special.

Replace me with any of the other girls, and this same scenario would still probably play out.

But I can pretend. Pretend it’s my touch in particular that fills him with desire, pretend no one else makes him feel the way I do.

Pretend he needs my hands on his skin every bit as much as I need it.

Vantos breathes faster as I build him up higher, closer to climax.

I pump my fist up and down his shaft, giving a little twist of my wrist at the top because it makes him jolt away from the floor with the intensity of his pleasure.

He’s so beautiful like this, all the seriousness, all that contained way of his, abandoned as he pants and groans, taking my shoulder in a bruising grip as he tries to steady himself.

Every time he moans, it’s like an electric charge goes through me, my nipples tightening, my skin sensitising, until I’m so revved up, so much slick building between my legs, I’m sure the slightest brush against my clit will set me off.

I keep working him, kissing any exposed piece of skin I can find, running my tongue along him, tasting the rain mingled with the salt tang of sweat. I want to taste his cock, too, but I push the thought away, instead focusing on driving him over the edge with my hand.

He comes with a cry, burying his face in my neck, his hot breath fanning over my skin as he bucks into my grip, his seed spilling over my fingers and onto the cave floor.

For a long moment, we don’t move, our breathing slowing together as we just sit in our closeness and the intimacy of what we’ve just done.

My whole body cries out to be touched, but that’s not what this was about, I remind myself.

I reel my desires back in, then start to pry myself away from him.

The last thing I want is for things to get weird between us.

Vantos shifts, tugging his trousers down the rest of the way.

He uses them to clean us up, and mop the floor, before heading to the entrance of the cave and rinsing them clean in the rain.

He steps outside himself, turning his face up to the downpour.

I go as far as the entrance, rinsing my hands in the deluge.

It feels like washing away the moment we just shared, and I’m a bit sad about it, even though I know it’s necessary.

I head back to the fire, warming my hands against the lapping heat of the flames.

It’s not that I’m cold, not particularly.

It just gives me something to do with my hands, which still itch with desire to seek out Vantos’ skin.

He’ll probably go to sleep now he’s got what he needed.

It’s how things always went with Jeremy.

I remember lying in his bed, wide awake, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest. It’s funny how he was my whole world back then, and now I can barely remember his face. Just the contempt he showed me at the end.

Take your ticket. You won’t be getting a better life from me.

I feel a prickle on my skin and look up to see Vantos watching me, his brows knit together in a frown.

He crosses the cave in two long strides and drops to the floor beside me, reaching a hand out toward my face.

He touches me like he’s losing the battle to keep his hands off me.

I wish I had the words to tell him to stop fighting it, to give in to what he wants.

Because I want it too, more than anything.

More than I care about the consequences.

I know it’s a bad idea. We aren’t mates, and I don’t know that raskarrans do relationships outside of their mating pairs. He could mate to one of the other girls and be taken away from me. Just the thought makes me want to rage and curse.

I’m going to get burned. It’s going to be painful and messy - just like every other facet of my sad little life.

But while it lasts, it will be glorious.

So I tell him with my touch what I can’t say in words.

I take his hand, guiding it to the bare skin on my leg.

When he doesn’t react, I slide it up my leg and beneath my top.

He sucks in a breath, and that little sound has hot desire coursing through my blood, but he doesn’t move, his whole body tensed.

“Vantos fla’hest Rachel?” he says, his voice scraping out of him, as if it’s taking everything in him to pause. Ask.

Vantos touch Rachel?

A whimpering sound escapes me. I don’t know if it’s because of the question, or the sexy way he says it.

Or maybe it’s just the days and days of need bottled up in me that makes such a noise.

All the raskarran words fly out of my head.

Most of my own words do as well. So I answer his question the only way I have left - by throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him.

He growls, kissing me back with an intensity that makes me moan low in my throat as he lowers me back onto the furs, his body shifting so it’s over mine.

He’s naked, but I’m still clothed, and the damp top and my panties suddenly feel suffocating, my body burning hot.

I want to be out of them, want to feel his skin against mine.

But Vantos doesn’t give me any room to wriggle out of them, his body pressed so close to mine, I can feel every hard, muscular edge to him.

His arms wrap around me, keeping me tight against him, as he plunders my mouth with his tongue, leaving me gasping with need.