I nodded, the corners of my mouth twitching at her strange words as we continued to plant.
The twin suns beat down on our backs despite the dome’s barrier, one hotter than the other, as we worked in unison. Both my pulses thundered in my ears, louder than the thrum of the city around us. Adrenalyne lit up my veins as the primal urge to mate nearly overwhelmed me. Only Rowan and I existed here, bathed in the glow of the suns-light and the promise of something more.
The silence between us grew heavy, rich with words we didn't dare utter, yet it felt as comfortable as the well-worn kiltus slung low around my hips.
The heat from her body seeped into my bones. Her presence a gravitational force, and I was caught in its inexorable pull. The air thickened, making each inhale a labor of longing. When I dared a glance, my gaze found hers. A stormy green reflecting amaelstrom of emotion, two spirits balanced on the precipice of desire.
Her eyes spoke volumes where her lips did not, tales of starlit skies and boundless horizons, but also apprehension and uncertainty. The tiny echo of her nestled deep inside my heart mirrored my own inner turmoil.
I yearned for her with the whole of my existence, but regret was not something I wished for my spirit mate. If Rowan caved to her desires, would she hate the bond between us? Would she loathe the shawra forever etched over her heart? Would she grow to resent me with her every breath?
After the last seed and plant was nestled in the moist soil, I stood, brushing aside a lock of mane matted to my forehead. The city around us faded into the background as we shared a weighted silence, our task complete yet something palpable left unfinished.
“Let's wash up,” Rowan suggested with a voice that trembled just enough to betray the storm within.
I nodded and followed her inside her hut. My steps felt too deliberate, each one an effort to contain the chaos inside me. As we entered, the familiar scent of her sanctuary enveloped me—a mix of her exotic fragrance and the herbal tang of the freshly thatched roof.
“Here,” she murmured, gesturing to the basin outside the small sanitate system. My hands shook slightly as she led them under the falling lood, washing away the clinging dirt from the garden. A tangible force hung between us, pushing and pulling at once. With every brush of her fingers over mine, the air grew denser, charged with the energy of unsaid words and unspent desires.
“Thanks for taking me today and for helping me plant,” she said, her voice low, the vibrations reaching out and wrapping around me like a lover’s caress as she dried my hands with a clean cloth.
“It was my pleasure.” My cock kicked hard under my kiltus, demanding it be treated to the same stroking she was showing my hands with the drying cloth.
“I was wondering if you could help me with something else,” she said in a sultry tone that triggered my scales to pulse with urgency.
Rowan dropped the cloth and guided my hand beneath the hem of her dress. A strangled growl ripped from my throat as my fingertips met the thin fabric covering the heat of her sex. Wet through her undergarment, I longed to tear it from her body, to graze the slick petals of her naked slit.
The urge to thrum I’d withheld during our excursion burst forth, vibrating the walls of the hut as it reverberated through me. An erotic melody, one to entice, to let her know I was more than ready to mate.
“Rowan?” My gaze searched hers, seeking permission, assurance that she was ready to be claimed.
“Please, Zikkar,” she pleaded, covering my hand with hers. “I’m sorry I’m not totally ready… but I need relief.”
The moment stretched on forever before my fingertips tentatively traced the contours of her delicate folds through the thin fabric. Rowan swayed on her feet. My free hand cupped her waist as both her hands came to rest on my shoulders.
I understood her plea, knew the ache of her craving because it matched my own. If I gave her the relief she needed, couldI restrain myself from seizing what I desired in the fervor of passion?
“Tell me to stop if I go too far.” I was hers to command. She held complete power over me, and only her voice could bring me back from the brink of recklessness.
Heat emanated from her as she bobbed her head, her stance widening to give me more room. With a deep breath, I slipped two fingers under her garment, feeling the drenched fabric bunching in my hand.
Fucking Helios, she was soft!
My fingers traced along her swollen entrance, teasing and coaxing until she arched toward me with desperate anticipation. I couldn't resist any longer and eased a finger into her tight sheath, savoring the feel of her body yielding to my touch.
I pumped slowly at first, my digit mimicking what I hungered to do with my pulsating member. Her hips bucked, seeking more friction against my callused palm, her soft moans echoing in the small space.
I glided a second finger inside, stretching her tight sheath, and increased my pace, my thumb circling the bundle of nerves nestled in her delicate folds. Her scent permeated the room, sweeter and more intoxicating than any flower on Valose. My cock throbbed in time with each thrust as our gazes locked and held, her eyes fevered with lust.
Her grip on my shoulders tightened, nails digging into my scales as she arched to meet my plunging digits. As her walls began to clench around me, I slowed then stopped. She whined and curled her hips, seeking more.
“I want to taste the fruits of my labor.” I leaned in and teased the delicate lobe of her ear with my fangs.
She shuddered as I lifted her slight weight and carried her to the small cot, anticipation building as I knew what was about to happen. I gently laid her on her back, cupped the backs of her knees, and dragged her to the edge. She gazed up at me with a mix of fear and desire as I shoved her dress up to her waist and divested her of her sodden under garment.
My knees gave way at the sight of her glistening sex. Every curve, every delicate fold, a work of art—a masterpiece of feminine flesh. My fingers traced every curve, every dip of her inner thighs, before spreading the lush petals of her sex wide for my consumption. Her tunnel glistened with her juices, readying her tight sheath for my cock.
My thickened member kicked, leaking copious amounts of seed from the swollen tip. I curled my hips up tight, pressing the palm of my hand against my pulsating arousal. It was torture to gaze upon what I must deny myself. Every nerve in my body screamed to bury my shaft in her glorious heat, but she wasn’t ready, and as her spirit mate, I was hers to command. I clenched my teeth, trying to hold back the intense release building inside me, but the raging inferno consumed all reason and restraint.
