He clenched his jaw. The scarf was no mating rope, but it would do the trick for now, since he’d left his painstakingly crafted rope in their nook. And just as he thought, the green colordidlook beautiful against the soft brown skin of her wrists.
“Emory?”
Wrists secure, he held them in place with one hand and dragged his other over her arm, across the slope of her breast, her nipple already pebbled in the cool air of the cove, to settle at the base of her throat.
Clementine’s pulse thrummed there, beating hard against the sensitive pads of his fingers, when he said, “I’m going to claim you. I’m going to breed you.” He pressed his lips to the whorl of her ear. “Thenyouare going to claim me, my Clementine. When we leave this cove, we will be mates in every way. Understood?”
There was an indrawn breath, sharp and a little shaky. Then the thudding of her pulse under his fingers, followed by the subtle way she spread her legs for him, welcoming him into the lush cradle of her thighs.
All of it was ayeslong before Clementine murmured, “Yes, my mate. Yes.”
ChapterNineteen
He’d grownfamiliar with the taste of her skin. He knew the sounds she made when an orgasm stole her breath. He’d had the privilege of exploring the slick flesh hidden between her thighs with his hyper-sensitive fingers and questing tongue.
They’d made up for lost time since Clementine approached him in the shower. He’d discovered the joy of pinning her down against the many pillows in their nest to feast on her cunt. She’d woken him from an afternoon nap with trailing kisses and a hot, eager mouth on his cock. Together they’d worked to train her muscles to accept his girth — without a doubt the most pleasurable task he’d ever encountered in his life.
And yet, he still felt unprepared when he stared at his mate.
She lay below him, bound and spread like a sacrifice to the Hungry God. He’d removed her leggings, socks, and boots. Without the trappings of her clothing, she looked even softer, more vulnerable than she normally did.
The image was completed by their surroundings: a disheveled nest, a nearly bare nook carved out of ancient stone, and not a soul near enough to save her from being devoured.
Instinct urged him to fall on her and rut. He wanted nothing more than to finally thrust his aching cock into her slick sheath, the one he’d already marked with his seed, but he held onto a shred of control with an iron grip.
It was important that he get this right. It was important that he reward her trust. It was absolutelyvitalthat he earn her claim.
Clementine watched him through the dense fringe of her lashes, her chest rising and falling with short breaths. Her breasts, small and tipped with dark nipples, beckoned him closer. The hot silk of her skin glittered with a thin sheen of perspiration in the low light. And the expression on her face…
There was excitement, arousal, and a look of perfect trust.
Adoration and desire warred inside him. It gave his voice a choked quality when he commanded, “Don’t move a muscle.”
“Why?”
He bit back a smile. She didn’t ask because she worried about what he would do next. She asked because she was a deeply inquisitive creature, just like he was.
“I left your mating rope at our cove,” he explained as he eased his weight off of her. “I need to find something we can use instead.”
He hated the idea of using something rough or sub-par on her delicate skin, but the call to restrain her was too loud to ignore. The scarf holding her wrists secure was a start, and it might have even been enough to settle his instincts if she were one of his kind, but when he glanced at her legs, he couldn’t shake the urgency to bind those, too.
Unless she was particularly feisty, a merwoman wouldn’t have needed her lower half restrained. But his mate had those pretty little legs that were capable of getting into all sorts of mischief. Thousands of years of adaptation and competition compelled him to lock them down and keep them open, lest she try and thwart his claiming.
Not that he really thought shewould.A glance over his shoulder revealed a mate shaking with anticipation, her hazel eyes dilated and her upper thighs slick.
Still.
It was a lucky thing he didn’t bother bringing everything he owned to their cove. His mate didn’t enjoy clutter, so he’d left many odds and ends he didn’t need, knowing he could return to his family cove at any time if that changed.
Although his nook was mostly empty, there were a few crates stacked in the corner, housing tools and scraps of rope he had no need for. Emory made his way over to them as quickly as he could. Metal tools, rusted by the salty air, clattered against the stone floor as he tipped over one of the crates.
A quiet snort of amusement came from behind him, but he didn’t waste time sending his naughty mate a quelling look.
Snatching up two small coils of rope he’d made from strips of sun bleached cotton that had washed up on the rocks many years prior, he tucked them between his teeth before pulling himself back across the floor.
The rope had been an experiment more than anything, since the fabric was too deteriorated by saltwater to be used in his nest. Unfortunately, the cotton hadn’t proved much more useful braided into rope. One good tug and he’d snapped a section almost as soon as he’d finished making it.
But what had made it useless for setting traps under the water made it perfect for his mate.
