With a deep breath and the sudden realization I’d just manhandled a monkey man washing over me, I let go of him and took a step back, ignoring the way my hands had suddenly begun to shake.
“God, I can’t believe I just did that,” I murmured, staring down at my hands, in awe. “I totally just owned that.”
Tokre’s hands slid up my knees and he moved in, crowding me as he crouched at my feet. He made a noise, a soft chuff, and his face pressed to the top of my mound.
I let him.
What was the point of fighting it? He could easily pin me down and do it anyway once he grew tired of asking. Fine, I thought, snuggle away, with my blessing. Maybe it was a mating rites thing?
“So this is a thing, then?” I mumbled confusedly, asking no one in particular as he sucked in lungfuls of that eau de va-jay-jay. “Beasts crotch hug? Or apologize to them?” Did this mean he expected me to regularly nuzzle his junk? My mind boggled and the idea. Yep, not gonna happen, not even on a good day.
This felt more like an apology to me, the louder he started cooing, the harder he began to nuzzle. Then, reaching up, came the petting.
Tiny, nuzzling bumps of his nose followed, his knuckles grazing the lips of my pussy but never entering me.
Well, I had complained to him rather loudly he’d broken my vagina earlier.
Careful what you wish for, my sarcastic ass chimed in snidely.
This went on for a while, the nuzzle junk cuddles, until I wondered if he was waiting for some kind of signal from me. Already dead on my feet, I’d admit I just wanted to get this—whatever it was—all over and done with so I could make my way back to the bed and crash, in the hopes I woke up and this was all just a dream.
Reaching out, my fingers brushed his hair, gently at first, then harder, until my fingers were combing through the thick fur.
“Uhm...” I started slowly, “I forgive you?” Sort of, I amended, because you kidnapped me and now I’m stuck here and just look at what your massive penis did to me, you jerkwad!
Tokre’s nuzzling grew searching, his nose bumping my still sensitive clit making me jerk. It felt good, strangely, but only lasted for a split second. Truth be told, his warm breath cascading over my aching flesh was doing weirdly wonderful things to me. Gulping, feigning ignorance, my eyes drifted upward and I stared at the ceiling.
Nothin’ goin’ on here, nothin’ to see.
Tokre’s nose brushed the spot again, then just off to the side of it. He paused when I jumped a little, but then he did it again. My eyes squeezed shut tight and I muffled a groan. I could stop him at any time, probably should. I did nothing, and the nagging question drifted to the surface, did my messed up ass want him to?
By the third sweep, as I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out, a small growl building in his chest as his hands tightened fractionally where they’d slid to grip my thighs, I knew those last two teasing sweeps had been intentional.
One thick hand slid up my thigh to brush his knuckles against the pleasurable pulse quickly building there, despite the already pounding soreness deep within.
“Too soon,” I blurted, allowing him to nudge my thighs only far enough apart to fit his fist near there better.
Full on penetrative sex, despite whatever it was we were currently partaking in, was off the menu. But that little voice in my head that sounded strangely like the judge-y hag from my mother’s church chanted, slut, slut, slut.
Shut up, you nasty-
“Ah. We shouldn’t even be doing this,” I garbled out on a hiss, wincing and pulling back when his knuckle began to slip through my folds, a little too close to my mangled honey hole.
The noise I made snapped my newly christened beast-husband out of it and his head shot up.
“Hurts,” I told him with a grimace. I repeated myself, pointing between my legs. “We should, uh, take a raincheck. We can make up and kiss later, yes?”
Tokre blinked, then blinked again.
“Kiss-e lay-tor.” I didn’t know why I thought saying it slowly would help, but I kept it up until he was mouthing kiss along with me.
He said this much easier, like how he knew the word mine, and I wondered at that but only briefly. He knew how to say it but not what one was?
“Hurts,” I repeated, just in case. It bared repeating. “Ouch.”
Following where my finger pointed, his hand lifted and he brushed his knuckle over the top of my mound softly. His other hand joined in, tapering off over my stomach, until they were massaging up and down my inner thighs.
Okee dokee, I’ve apparently been picked for a mate by a woman’s junk cuddler. Gotta admit, things could have been so much worse than a vaginal wreck apologist.
A deep rumble filled him as his thumb brushed my hidden pearl and I tensed, my insides clenching. That cooing noise started up, his eyes trained on my face as I stared down at him.
I was afraid to look away from him, an unreadable expression on my face as I watched him.
Tokre leaned in then, without breaking eye contact, until his nose brushed my tingling skin.
Kiss, he mouthed the word against my flesh and the dark curls shadowing my goods. Sucking in a breath loudly through his weirdly shaped nostrils, his rumble grew and he mouthed his new favorite word again.
“Not a kiss,” I explained, thinking he’d misunderstood, “that’s my- Oh m-m-m-m-my!”
Tokre’s tongue snuck out suddenly and he swiped it across my slit. I let out a sharp gasp, squawking unintelligibly as he had himself a taste.
He did it again, sampling, tasting, gently eating, a little harder, deeper with every passing sweep, making sure he brushed that little bud between my folds that’d begun thrumming to life, until my knees began to wobble.
Tokre’s face pressed against my skin and he laved the spot oh so slowly, his lips getting in on the action when I moaned aloud, my hips jerking involuntarily.
As if I’d just given consent, he sped up, sucking, licking, tasting. My head spun, his hands coming up to clutch at my ass, catching me, as mine slapped to his head.
He nudged for me to open to him and, mindlessly, I did, my fingers sifting through his hair, tugging, pulling, guiding him as my leg was lifted and his tongue found its way directly to my sex, right to my core.
I cried out as he eagerly partook.
My hips started moving, my fingers tightening on him painfully, his thick tongue diving deep, his heady, hungry growl vibrating against me deliciously. His claws dug into my ass, his hands clenching and unclenching, urging me on.
I was lost.
That building pressure I’d felt earlier, that unfulfilled feeling, it built until I thought I’d explode. And then I did, shattering as a wonderful feeling blossomed over me, my sex clenching and unclenching around his thick appendage until I couldn’t take it anymore.
Tokre pulled back as I cried out, lifted me up, and pressed me into the wall. I didn’t have a chance to react, and then my legs were over his hips and his hand was guiding his thick shaft towards my sex, his hand shaking as he fought to shove that fat monster into my clenching channel.
He slipped once, twice, in the span of a few short seconds before he found the right spot and wedged the head of his dick in. With a snarling bellow he slammed home.
We both cried out for entirely different reasons, my shout more of a pained screech, his a bellow of ecstasy. Three clumsy pumps of his hips and he came, and I’d never been more thankful for a one minute man in my life.
Now I just had to keep this strange, horny assed beastie of mine off of me and his lips away from my coochie, I thought as I shoved at him, berating him with words he didn’t understand. He groaned on pulling out, but gave me the space I demanded.
Even now, late into the night, as he lay snoring, wrapped around me like a furry anaconda, like he thought I might escape—though my second late night bathroom run might not have helped ease his runaway mate worries any—his hands cuddling his favorite parts, the bed furs securely covering my bod
y and my shamed, embarrassed, thoroughly confused face while he slept on blissfully, I asked myself, what the freaking fuck?
I had to wonder for what felt like the millionth time in such a short span of time, what crazy assed shit has my nutty, alien punch sipping ass gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 9
Thick, warm hands roughly kneaded my breasts, then gentled, strumming over my taut nipples until I moaned aloud. It felt good, really good.
A hot, wet tongue rasped my collarbone before dipping lower, and I groaned. Oh yeah.
Moaning, I bit at my lip as teeth nipped. My sex was wet, slippery wet, more than I’d ever recalled. My stomach chose that moment to growl at me angrily, reminding me that I should have eaten the stew he’d tried to wake me up with, trying to offer me a piping hot bowl at some ungodly hour.
Arching my back, my ass pressed firmly into the underside of a very impressive erection. A very furry erection, and that’s when I squealed and jumped awake.
Tokre caught me before I fell out of bed, tugging me tightly to his chest, too tight, until I wheezed out a desperate breath.
Spotting the jar for the tingling salve the male used as hoo-hah healing sauce next to him, figuring he must’ve thought to apply it while I’d slept—as if to thwart me on it—and maybe ended up getting more than he’d bargained for.
Letting out a gruff noise, he let go when I cried out, frowning down at me as I groaned and rolled over.
“Oh,” I mumbled, ass up, face mashed into a fur, “everything hurts.”
Grunting, Tokre reached out and poked at something along my thigh that had me jerking and yelping.
Blinking as I tried to get a look over my shoulder, my head popping up to see, I gaped as his fingers traced a myriad of purple bruises and gouges from his claws, mapping across my body. “Oh my god! I look like a giant, punctured eggplant!”
Tokre went to poke another bruise again, scowling at it as his fingers tried to smooth it off, as if it was merely dirt, but I slapped his fingers away.
“Ow! Quit it. That hurts,” I couldn’t help but whine. Scowling equally as hard at my new beast mate, I tugged a bed fur over my body, trying to hide the worst of it.
Eyes scanning me from head to toe, Tokre’s gaze paused on my rump, glued to it.
“Ugh, men.” Flattening my knees until my ass was pancaked instead of up in the air, just hanging there, I rolled my eyes and went to ignore him but ended up fighting him when he suddenly went to tug my fur back off. “Hey, what the- Tokre!”
Eyes narrowed, he ignored me, whipping the fur off to pin me down and lean over me. I couldn’t exactly see what he was doing, thinking sex the likely want of the morning, but it became apparent enough as his hand smoothed over a particularly large bruise and, frowning, noting the similarities, he switched hands, matching the pattern to his meaty paw. A harsh sound in his throat, his hand froze and he just stared at it.
Watching him, I frowned. “Tokre?”
Tokre jerked his hand back as if he’d just been burned and hopped up off the bed. Tossing the fur back over me as I flopped to my back to face him, he bent down, looming over me, bumping our foreheads and rubbing our noses.
Mouthing the word mine, he mashed our lips together in a quick, possessive but messy kiss and pulled back.
“Tokre…?”
Much gentler than he’d ever been before, he tapped my chest several times, motioning that I should stay in bed, then pointed towards last night’s mystery stew in that little boxy shaped, thickly woven basket filled with ice he’d put it in and plunked on the fish gutting counter, then went to snatch up his fish basket and pole.
Quickly setting his things aside, he walked back towards me, as if he’d forgotten something pertinent. At the bed he crouched, grabbing something up from under it. Scooting it out, he motioned towards himself.
“Tokre?” I was a broken record, as well as beyond confused.
The beast pointed to the crude looking pot and then me, letting off short grunts as his gaze went back and forth between the thing and me. It was medium sized, with a wide lip that almost reminded of a- “This is a piss pot,” I mumbled aloud, catching his drift.
Leaning over the side of the bed to examine the thing to find it empty, my gaze slid up to meet his.
“Don’t you think this would have been helpful last night? You know,” I made a point to make the gushing sounds from last night, mimicking losing my junk, “with all of this?”
Continuing the gush-gush-ing sound effects, I pointed to the pot.
I watched as it came over him, the realization that his new mate had simply been trying to find a restroom to relieve herself with her disturbing, half-assed theatrics, both times—lord help me—and I could have sworn a faint blush stole over his cheeks.
Tokre did the gaze shift and point, and waited, more funny grunts issuing from his throat.
Oh, I caught on to that one fast, alright, but that wasn’t going to go down in front of him.
Tokre leaned in when my lips started to purse, a soft snarl tumbling from his lips, and then my eyes were widening and I was gaping at him.
“I will when you leave,” I squeaked out stubbornly, despite the way the hairs along my arms prickled alarmingly at his tone—forget being able to understand the beastie, because some things were just universal.
Motioning towards his pot and waving it away, despite the way I was starting to tremble, I wanted to be heard too.
Yet… He was just so intimidating when he did the loom, lip curl, and snarl. If he wanted me to… to… go in front of him, he’d just have to keep that mess up.
Couldn’t guarantee I’d make it to his pee pot, but I’d definitely go, that was for sure.
He did it again, his unhappy snarl, growl, and glare balefully, and I flinched, swallowing hard.
Something akin to shame and a bit of defeat washing over me, I ducked my head. The tigerlady who’d peeked out last night notably absent, I was back to wimpy old me.
As a low growl filled his throat, his warm breath fanning across the top of my head, I gulped but slid to the edge of the bed and stood up. My cheeks flushed crimson as my shoulders slumped, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Frowning at the floor like it owed me money and I wanted it gone, I couldn’t, wouldn’t look at him. “This is humiliating,” I mumbled, but went to do as he wished.
Walking over to the pot, I stared down at it, scrubbing a hand down my face.
Daring a peek at the beast standing there by the bed impatiently, waiting, I muttered weakly, “You have to turn around. I can’t- I’m not-” A sound of frustration growled out of my throat and my voice rose. “I’m not doing this with an audience!”
My beast-napper blinked, staring down at me with the wariest expression I’d ever seen on the creature. Slowly, he jerked his chin towards the pot, but I’d already gotten the picture. Now, if only I could get him to understand what I wanted, I thought churlishly.
“Turn around,” I said slowly, pointing at him and making a twirling motion.
With a grunt he did, though grudgingly, and I let out a sigh of relief. You know, until he turned his head, scowling, and started to peek at me from over his shoulder.
“Holy alien dung beetles, bud! I can’t escape through the floor, there’s no window near me or a hidden crawlspace, and I’m obviously not going anywhere, the door is that-a-way, hun!” My arm thrust up and out in its direction. “Now, if you could just, please, let me relieve myself for your benevolent benefit, you overbearing jerk of a mutant fuzzball, I will piss in your pot in peace!!”
Tokre stiffened, watching my hands flail around alarmingly while I ranted, and he started clearing his throat gruffly, repeatedly. Shoulders stiffening to hunch, a mumbled grumble rumbling his chest, his brow furrowing in confusion to morph into a scowl, then a frown again, he seemed, despite being the liquid release demander in this scenario, uncomfortable.
Hah!
Good. Feel some of this, I thought, mentally gesturing
at the length of my person.
“Peeking,” I motioned at what he was doing, marching over to him, his back still turned to me, “is wrong! Bad. Not nice! You understand me, big fella, huh? Huh?! Baaaaaaddddd.”
“Bbbbbdddd,” the beast rumbled out slowly, staring down at me with a stupid look.
“I pee, you don’t watch, everybody’s happy,” I told him.
He bristled at the look on my face and my angry demeanor, but didn’t bite.
Eyeing him and then the bed as he continued to unashamedly peek, as if the walking, wannabe bleached Wookiee thought I wouldn’t notice or something, I shook my head and threw my hands out. “Of all the… I cannot…”
Walking over to the bed, I picked up one of the fur blankets, marching right over to him and right around him to hold it out.
“Put this on your head, Peeky McPeekerson.” Lips thinning, I motioned exactly what I wanted him to do and how I thought he should just go right on ahead and do it, everything in me tightening up when he started to snarl.
At the look on my face his growl cut off, his gaze slowly darting heavenward. That weird, mumbling grumble-growl started up, muffled by his clamped lips, and I could have sworn he rolled his eyes before reluctantly taking the pelt and, with great gesturing and encouragement from me, slipped the material over his head.
Happy at his acquiescence, I slapped my hands together in a clap. Tokre jumped and snarled, then dropped down into a crouch. With a menacing growl in his throat that had my skin prickling he lifted the blanket to glare about the room.
I clapped again, because I’m either an idiot or super smart, relieved when he relaxed, though he looked thoroughly vexed now, more than a bit annoyed.
When I motioned for him to drop the blanket again he did, mumble-snarling under his breath.
I smiled at that, despite my own annoyance. It was kind of- Nope, not even going to think it, I told myself.
Stepping back to move around him, I admired my handiwork, adjusting the pelt’s ends so it was evenly distributed. A long sigh issued from the pelt, followed by much grumbling, and those wide, beast shoulders twitched and fidgeted before slumping.
Bride of Glass (Brides of the Hunt Book 2) Page 10
