Page 97 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

With one hand, Rachel works the base of my cock while she licks and sucks at the rest of it.

It is not long before I am panting with the pleasure of it, trying to keep my climax at bay so this perfect moment may never end.

When Rachel starts humming in her tuneless way, I am not sure if it is the thought that she is happy to have her mouth wrapped round me like this, or the vibration in her throat that tips me over the edge.

I spill into her mouth, moaning as my release pulses through me.

Rachel laps up my spend, a very pleased look on her face.

She rests her head against my leg, smiling up at me.

I brush a hand over her hair, once again struck by her perfection.

When she slides away from me, giving my leg another little tug, I do not resist. I remove my clothes and slip into the water with her.

We do not get out of the pools until our skin is wrinkled, our stomachs pinching with hunger.

Rachel gets me to teach her the words for more body parts, and then for some actions relating to those body parts.

Licking, sucking, tasting. It is clear what she has on her mind, and her lack of shyness thrills me.

When there is no word for something, she teaches me hers, and so I now know that the touching of mouths is called ‘kissing’.

Once I have taught her all her extremities, Rachel takes my hand and slides it between her thighs.

“ Wassthis? ” she asks, writhing against my hand.

“Cunt,” I say, my voice hoarse.

“Vantos touch Rachel cunt?” she asks, breathy with need.

How can a male refuse such a request?

I make her come on my fingers. Her whole body melts against mine, as if the heat of the water and the pleasure of her release have turned her to liquid.

I hold her in my arms, kissing her neck, until I hear her stomach rumbling.

Then I rise, carrying her with me, and set her down on the shore of the pool.

I pull on my clothes and take out a knife.

I am not sure if this area is good for hunting, and I am not skilled at hunting techniques, but I wish to try to catch my Rachel something fresh to eat.

Especially after feeding her ration bars for breakfast and lunch.

I gesture for her to wait, and she nods, wringing her beautiful hair between her fingers to squeeze the water out of it.

I am in the trees mere moments when I spy a juicy looking frenelle grazing nearby.

It is a young male, judging by its size, and will make for excellent eating - the meat tender and tasty.

It would be better to use a bow to bring it down, but I do not have one and my aim is not the best. I am better with a spear, but what I have is a knife, so I pull it from my boot and raise it up, the blade gripped between my fingers.

My throwing arm is out of practise, but I remember the days when I was still a youngling, when we would have competitions.

Who can hit the target with a bow, a knife, a spear?

I know the technique well enough, and the frenelle is a larger target than we used to aim at.

I put all my power behind the throw and loose the knife.

It flies through the air, burying in the frenelle’s side.

The creature lets out a sharp squeak, then collapses.

A quick death. I go to it, making sure it has breathed its last. I do not wish for any creature to suffer, but especially not one dying by my hand to fill my belly.

I send prayers of thanks to Lina for leading me to the frenelle and keeping my hand steady.

Then I pick the creature up by its hindquarters, carrying it back to Rachel.

She is dressed now, and eyes my prize with interest.

“Frenelle,” I tell her, pointing at it.

“ Lukslikearabbit, ” she says. “ Withfangs. ”

She touches a finger to the frenelle’s pointed teeth, a little shudder going through her. Then she rises to her feet, picking up both the bags, and gestures for me to lead the way.

I remember this time that I am supposed to be teaching her cooking skills.

So I show her how to skin the creature. She is a little squeamish about it, hiding her face in my arm when I peel the furs from the frenelle’s body and when I remove the internal organs.

I take the liver between my fingers, holding it out to her.

It is the choicest piece of meat in the frenelle, but Rachel pulls a face, sticking her tongue out in a way I understand does not indicate enthusiasm for trying it.

Perhaps she will change her mind when she smells it cooking.

It is pleasant, cooking with Rachel by my side, helping.

More pleasant than just cooking for her.

My aching heartspace throbs with want for this to be our future.

Teaching Rachel raskarran ways and raskarran words, knowing she is content by the way she hums tunelessly as she works.

Having her rest her head against my chest as we sit together round the central fire, all the tribe knowing that I was so blessed to have her as my mate.

The frenelle is the best I have ever tasted, despite the lack of herbs and roots to flavour it. And when we retire to the tent to rest, Rachel pulls her pelts over to mine and snuggles against me. She falls asleep so quickly in my arms, and this gesture of trust means so much to me.

Everything is better with Rachel by my side.

If only I could find a way to keep her there.