Bridget's Bane: A SciFi Alien Romance Read online

  Br'chit shudders, her skin prickling and her teats growing tighter. I reach out and tease one little bud as she considers my offer, pressing kisses to her shoulder as I do.

  "I can't think when you're touching me," she says, utterly breathless.

  "That is the point. You think too much, and I think too little. Tonight, let us reverse it. You do not think at all, and I will take care of everything."

  She shivers in my grasp, her fingers trailing down my chest. "All right. I just…I don't know if I'll come that way—"

  It is for me to worry about such things, not her. It is my task to make her cunt slick and full of sweet juice, my task to make her feel so good that she climaxes. If I cannot do this for her, I am indeed a worthless mate. "You will," I reassure her. "You will come so hard that you will squeeze my tongue and I will share every bit of your pleasure."

  Br'chit moans, her eyes fluttering shut, as if she wishes to savor this picture. Her breath comes in short, jagged pants.

  I cup her teats one last time, sliding my thumb over the tips. "Say 'Yes, A'tam, I want this.'"

  "Yes, A'tam," she breathes, and then opens her eyes to look at me as she answers. "I want this."

  I have been doing a decent job of ignoring my own body's responses until this moment. Now, however, as she speaks those words, my cock twitches, my sac tight and drawing up against my body, as if I will climax immediately. That…cannot happen. Tonight, I must woo my mate as I have never wooed her before. I must think about something else other than her loveliness, or the way she watches me with such trust.

  I will think about something annoying, I decide. The faces of the other males in the joined tribe flash before my eyes, but I reject those. I do not wish to think about other males while I pleasure my mate. I must think about something else, instead. I press a kiss to my mate's knuckles and then lie flat on my back in the furs. As I do, I catch a glimpse of a woven basket made with dried reeds that has lost its shape, the side sagging.

  Pottery, I decide. I will think about pottery and how frustratingly awful it is.

  Br'chit sits at my side, her legs tucked under her fluffy skirt. The uncertainty flashes across her face again, and I realize I am giving her too much time to think. Pottery, I chant to myself as I pull her in for another kiss. Pottery and all the shards that come out of the fire. Pottery that slides into nothing when it is dried. Mud coating Br'chit's arms as she leans over and works the clay.

  That last mental image sends a bolt of pure lust through my body. No thinking about mud on my mate, then. Just pottery and pots and bowls. Broken things. Things that make me angry and frustrated. Certainly not Br'chit smiling up at me as she works on another coil of clay that looks thick enough to be—

  "Face," I growl. "Sit on it."

  Br'chit's eyes widen. She sucks in a breath, and hesitates, looking at me. Her khui is singing louder than ever, so I know she is interested, yet I cannot scent her arousal. It should be perfuming the air around us, and I suspect she is too nervous for her cunt to get wet.

  If she is not wet, I do not think we will be getting very far at all tonight. I need her to be hot and slick and ready.

  "Can I sit on your chest for a bit first?" she asks, nervous. "Maybe work my way up?"

  I nod. Whatever it takes to get her to participate. I hate that she is uncertain. There should be no certainty greater in life than giving a resonance mate pleasure. So I pat my stomach—if she so much as brushes my cock, I will lose control—and give her an encouraging look.

  Br'chit slides one leg over me and sits just atop my navel, her teats jiggling as she adjusts herself. She still looks uncertain, but I like the press of her skin against mine. I can feel the warmth of her thighs, the tickle of the curls between her legs, and I can look up at her beautiful face. I can admire her bare teats and their pretty tops. Her nipples are erect, and I brush my fingers over them, trying to distract her. She is thinking far too much.

  She makes a soft sound in her throat, and her thighs clench against my chest.

  Pottery, I remind myself. Pottery shards. Pottery fragments. The frustration of watching my mate lift broken pot after broken pot from the ashes.

  "Am I too heavy?" she asks.

  "Never."

  Br'chit lightly runs her hands along my chest, tracing the lines of my muscles. "I like touching you. I like how strong you are, but how your skin feels like velvet. I bet you feel nicer to touch than I do."

  "I bet you are wrong," I manage. Pottery shards. Broken bowls. Her disappointment.

  She traces a circle around one of my nipples. "Are these sensitive? They feel harder than mine."

  I flick one of hers with my thumb and am rewarded with her little gasp of pleasure. "I do not have to nurse anyone with mine," I point out. "I like yours soft. I like all of you soft." I roll her nipple between my fingers and am rewarded with her throaty moan.

  "I hate this," Br'chit says softly.

  I freeze in alarm. "My touch?"

  Her eyes fly open and she looks at me in surprise. "No. That this feels so good and I want you so much, but I'm freaking out."

  Never have I felt greater relief. I slide my hands to her thighs, rubbing up and down their length. "Then stop being afraid. Come and sit on my face. I will make you feel even better."

  She squirms, and there is the barest hint of her arousal in the air. "Are you sure, A'tam? I might be heavy—"

  "My nose is strong."

  A giggle escapes her. "Not the most romantic words a girl can hear, but effective."

  I like that I can still make her laugh. Grinning, I rub small, gentle circles onto her bare skin. She still wears her fluffy skirt, but it is short enough that I can push it up and get to the treasures underneath. "What are you waiting for?"

  She makes a frustrated face. "I'm not even sure. Just overthinking again."

  "You need to be more like me. Do not think at all," I say. Br'chit chuckles, and when she does, I take that opportunity and haul her forward, until she is seated right over my heart and her knees are against my ears. "Come," I say softly. "I have the perfect seat for you."

  Her lips part, and hot arousal flashes in her eyes. Her khui sings with newfound intensity. I say nothing, letting it be her decision. I do not wish to force this on her. I want it to be her choice, so she is not afraid of my touch.

  Br'chit laughs again, but the sound is more nervous than anything. She lifts her bottom and moves forward, just a little. "Are you sure you want this?"

  "I have wanted nothing more," I reassure her. As she eases her body forward, the scent of her envelops me and I groan. Her smell makes my khui go mad in my chest, and it thrums with eager anticipation. My mouth waters as I breathe in her musk and her thighs frame my cheeks. Her cunt is less than a handspan from my mouth, and my impatience gets the best of me. I can wait no longer.

  With my hands on her bottom, I drag Br'chit down to my mouth and lick.

  She makes a startled noise and then shudders as my tongue drags over her skin, from the pucker of her bottom all the way to the bump of her clit. "Oh, Jesus Christ," she whimpers. "That is so damn wrong."

  "Why?" I nuzzle at her cunt, rubbing my nose through her folds before dragging my tongue through her softness again. "I love this."

  "It…" she pants. "It's…not really wrong…just…figure of speech." Her voice trembles as she tries to answer me, and she rocks her hips down against my face. "You…do you like this?"

  "This is how I want to wake up every morning," I reassure her. "Your steamy cunt over my mouth and your taste all over my beard."

  Br'chit whimpers.

  Her fuzzy skirt is in the way, though. It tickles my nose and blocks my view of her fascinating teats, so I grab a handful of the fabric and drag it up, revealing the tuft of fur between her thighs and more soft skin. I glance up and she is leaning forward, her teats dangling in the air and her mane disheveled and falling across her shoulders. The look on her face is one of sheer concentration as I lick her again, the tip
of my tongue seeking out the entrance to her core.

  There.

  Just a hint of wetness to be found there, but it is a start.

  Br'chit moans, her body twitching against my tongue. "A'tam, your tongue…oh, it feels so good."

  Pottery, I remind myself. Pottery shards in the pit. Broken pottery and Br'chit's sad face at the realization of hours of work wasted. Pottery. Pottery.

  "So soft," I murmur between licks. "So fragrant." And I tease my tongue deeper into her sweet heat, licking at the entrance to her core. I am rewarded with a reflexive jerk of her hips and another moan, too.

  "Oh," she breathes.

  I keep licking, driving my tongue deeper into her heat, and slide one hand to the front of her mound, where her folds begin and her clit is nestled. I rub my thumb against it, even as I lick harder at her cunt. She whimpers, and I am rewarded with the taste of her body. She relaxes a little against me, softening, and her movements become bolder.

  "A'tam." She draws my name out as she says it, half-sigh and half-demand. "I can't…"

  She does not finish the statement, and I ignore it. She is the one seated atop my questing tongue. She could push off of me at any moment. Instead, she grinds down harder against my mouth, and my cock throbs in response.

  "I can't," Br'chit whimpers again, incoherent. Her taste floods my mouth. She is wet now, and my mouth makes slick sounds against her core even as I work her with my thumb. My hand is cramping and her eager hips are pushing down hard against my face, but I will not stop for anything.

  This is the best moment of my life, and I am desperate to make my mate come. So I do not let up, even when her arousal flows through her folds and her cunt grows soft around my tongue. I do not stop when she shudders above me, her movements becoming frantic. I do not stop when she continues to chant her nonsense "I can't I can't I can't".

  I do not stop for anything.

  Her hand goes to my mane, and she fists it tight. Br'chit rocks down against my face, a soft little noise of despair in her throat. Her cunt clenches around my tongue as if it is trying to trap it inside, and her legs quiver with tension. Close, then. My sac tightens, too, and I force myself to think of shards and pottery pits and mud and ash. So much mud and ash. She works her cunt against my face, her movements shuddering as she does.

  "I can't," she cries again, her hips jerking in small motions against my face.

  I growl low in my throat, as if to tell her that yes, she can. I tighten my grip on her hip and push my tongue deeper into the well of her cunt, mating her with my face instead of my cock. When she gives a little cry, I do it again, thrusting as deep as I can, tonguing her even as I work her clit with my aching finger.

  Pottery.

  Pottery, I tell myself as she quakes against my mouth.

  Pottery, I remind my aching body as she loses control.

  Pottery. Pottery. Pottery. I chant it silently as her body tightens and then she cries out. The sound is different from before, and her body's response is, too. Her cunt floods with moisture. She soaks my beard and my face as she comes, rocking against my mouth, and it is the most beautiful, most perfect thing I have ever tasted.. I continue to lick her, filling my head with thoughts of pottery as her climax moves through her, Br'chit's body taut above me as she comes and comes.

  41

  A’TAM

  When she collapses over me, her teats brushing my horns as she goes down, I lift my aching thumb from her clit and press a kiss to the inside of her thigh. Has any male ever been happier than I am in this moment? My cock twitches in response, and I nearly lose what little control I have. "Pottery," I growl, even as I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh. "Pottery pits and coals and stupid, broken bowls. Wasted hours of work and mud and digging through ash."

  "Mmm…what?" Br'chit sounds dazed. Her teats nudge at my horns, and I have to think harder about clay. Clay and sifting it from the water. Clay that gets everywhere and leaves streaks on my fur clothing.

  Messy, messy clay.

  "What are you mumbling about?" my mate asks as she lifts her leg and slides off my face. She tumbles onto her back next to me in a boneless flop, a look of sheer contentment on her lovely face. "Oh my god, there are no words for how amazing that was, A'tam."

  The sight of her is too much. Her teats call to me, as do the damp curls of her cunt and the shoved up band of her skirt that now rests around her belly. "I speak of pottery," I tell her, even as I crawl forward and slide her thighs apart again. My hunger for her is never-ending, my khui's song a constant throb. My mate, I think with pleasure as I graze my teeth against the inside of her thigh. My sweet, pretty mate is so very wet for me.

  "Why pottery?" Br'chit asks, shivering when I kiss her skin.

  "Because it distracts me from needing you too much." I rub my nose through her folds, and her body quivers under mine again. "So I think about pottery. And mud. And fire pits. And broken pots." I push her folds apart and circle her clit with my tongue, and she does not push me away, just moans. "I need to make you come again."

  She whimpers. "Again?"

  Oh, yes. Many, many more times, I think. I tease her clit with my tongue, toying with it even as I push a finger into the heat of her cunt. It is a good thing I nipped the tips of my claws off days ago, because I will not give up touching my mate for anything.

  Br'chit moans, her channel squeezing me as she arches. She is still aroused and her body full of longing, and it will not take much to send her over the edge again. I stroke her with my finger. She is very wet, but she still feels tight. I curse myself for missing this before. How did I not realize that she would need to be carefully prepared to take my cock? Humans are so small and fragile.

  I am a dozen times a fool, but I will make it up to her.

  My mate's hand goes to the top of my head and she sighs when I flick my tongue over her. I push a second finger into her warmth, and she shifts her hips, as if adjusting her body to my invasion. "Is this too much?" I ask. "Do I need to go slower?"

  "No, it's okay," Br'chit says in a soft voice. Her hand trails through my mane, brushing it back from my brow. "Feels good."

  My body is full of urgency, need hammering away at me. I drag my tongue through her folds and look up at her. "What do you like? Down here?"

  To my surprise, her flushed cheeks darken and she looks uncomfortable.

  "Is this a bad question?" Perhaps I should get the secrets stick out and remind her that we are sharing all. "I want to know how to please you. It is important to me."

  "It's okay. I'm just…flustered." She bites her lip.

  I sit up on my elbows. "Br'chit. I have buried my nose in your cunt. You sat on my face. I am wearing your juices in my beard. I have licked every hole you have. Nothing you say will be strange. I just wish to learn what excites you."

  Her hands cover her face and her shoulders shake. For a moment, I think I've made her weep. But then laughter bubbles out of her. "You're right. I'm being silly." She takes a deep breath and smiles at me. "I just panic. I'm not used to asking for things."

  "Ask me," I tell her, and nip at her belly. "I like being asked. Demand from me. Insist that I pleasure you."

  She chuckles again, her eyes bright. "Okay." Br'chit thinks for a moment, and then a shy smile curves her mouth. "I like your tongue on my clit."

  "Good." I circle it with just the tip, and she wriggles in response.

  "Could you…" Her voice becomes breathless. "Could you…suck on it?"

  Of course I can. Immediately I lower my head and use one hand to spread her cunt open wide for my mouth. I clasp my lips over the bud of her clit and suck, hard.

  Her low moan grows louder the longer I suck on it, and she begins to work her hips against me. "Fingers," she pants. "I want your fingers again."

  I do not lift my mouth. I continue to suck, even as I move my hand back to her entrance and push two fingers deep inside her. A fresh flood of arousal greets me and as I thrust into her cunt, her body makes wet noises that se
nd hunger ravaging through me. I think about pottery all over again as my hips grind against the furs and she calls out demands for me to suck harder and to add another finger. For me to use my fingers harder and faster.

  She comes a second time, this one much quicker than the last, and pushes my head away. "Oh my god," Br'chit pants. "A'tam, that was amazing."

  I pump my fingers into her slowly. Her cunt takes my fingers far more easily now, and I wonder if it is enough. I ache with the need to be inside her, but I cannot rush things. "Pottery," I mutter to myself as I stroke my fingers wetly into her cunt. "Pottery pits. Fire pits. Pottery shards. Mud everywhere."

  Br'chit reaches up and caresses my face, her fingers trailing over my mouth. "Are you…should we do you now?"

  I turn my head, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Are you ready for me to be inside you?"

  She stiffens. "Oh. I thought maybe we could, you know…" She pauses. "Take the edge off." Her posture tenses, and I can feel her body tightening around my fingers. All the ease in her vanishes.

  I slide my fingers free from her body, resisting the urge to taste them. If I do, it might be the end of my control. "We do not have to do this tonight. We can wait."

  "You've already waited a week," she reminds me softly. "And we're both hurting. We should just get it over with. I just offered to pleasure you to take the edge off."

  Get it over with. My pride stings a bit at that. I know if I take her up on her offer, we will put it off another night, and then another. "If you want me to come," I say, kissing her palm again. "It must be inside you. Otherwise I will wait until you are ready."

  "Oh." Br'chit tugs on my arm, and I settle onto my side next to her. She rolls on her side so we face each other, and her hand trails over my chest in light, exploring touches. "I'm being a chicken again, aren't I? I just think about how big it looks—"

  "Then do not look," I say quickly, a new idea coming to me. "Trust me."

  "Don't look? How can I not look?"

  I do not know if it is done, but if I can mate her while she is on her back, surely my mate on her belly will produce the same results. This way, she will not have to watch me push into her, and perhaps her fear will lessen. So I touch her chin. "Do you trust me?"