Callie's Catastrophe: Icehome Book 9

by Dixon, Ruby

  When I feel like I’m talking about my family for too long and boring him, I ask about his family. He tells me all about his siblings, how S’bren has always tagged along on everything M’tok did and how it used to drive him crazy. He’s grateful for it now, he tells me, because S’bren tagging along meant he was with M’tok on that awful day when the volcano took out most of their island and left the rest of it a charred disaster.

  The conversation gets a little dark and I steer it toward lighter things…like Hogwarts. I tell M’tok all about the Harry Potter stories and the houses, and he agrees that he’d be a Slytherin. Man seems proud about it, which makes me laugh.

  “You think about me far more often than you let on, C’lie,” he teases, poking at a bit of red-covered sinew.

  “Callie,” I correct him, not sure how to take his flirty teasing. “You can at least learn how to say my name right if you want me so badly.”

  The big alien sits back on his heels and studies me. “You think I say it wrong?”

  “You do. All your people do. Half the time I don’t even know it’s my name when you say it.”

  He considers this for a moment, his hot gaze fixing on me. “Then show me how to say it properly.”

  “You don’t clip the beginning. You exaggerate it. It’s CAL-EEE, not ‘Clee.’”

  “But it is your name,” M’tok says, frowning. “Is it not an insult to say it as you would any other word?”

  I laugh, my brows furrowed. “No, why would it be?”

  “Among my people it is a lack of respect. It is not acknowledging the other is a person.”

  “Well, where I’m from, you call someone what they prefer to be called. And I prefer Callie or Calida, if you want to say the full thing.”

  “C’leeda?” he asks. “That is your name?”

  “No, hombre, my name is Calida. It’s Calida Maria Ruiz y Hoyos, but you can just say Calida if you can’t say Callie.”

  M’tok’s mouth shapes as if he’s about to say my name, and I reach out and grab his jaw, puckering his lips before he can speak. “C’lee—”

  “Ca-lee-dah,” I pronounce for him, giggling. He looks ridiculous with his fish-face thanks to my grip, but it cracks me up to see the normally stern M’tok look so silly. “Say it right or don’t say it at all.”

  “Cah,” he begins, then pauses. “Lee. Dah.”

  He still slurs it just a little at the beginning, as if instinct wants to steer him in the wrong direction. But he pronounces it so well in that smooth voice of his that I’m impressed. “You got it.”

  “Calida,” he says again, his gaze holding mine.

  I shiver as he says my name, the sound of it like a caress on his lips. I’m utterly aware that my hand is on his jaw, and I’m leaning closely over him, violating his personal space. Our faces are inches apart, our eyes locked. My cootie’s singing loudly in my ears, and I realize I’m breathing hard.

  M’tok reaches up and puts his arm to my waist, tugging me down against him until I’m practically straddling his thigh. I should get up, but I’m frozen, locked in place against him, waiting to see if he’s going to kiss me.

  For some reason, I really, really want him to kiss me.

  “Calida,” he murmurs again. “I will remember.”

  His gaze moves over my face and I hold my breath, waiting. But he only touches my cheek and then releases me. “I will start the evening meal.”

  “Oh. Ok. Sure.” I stumble to my feet, trying to figure out just how I feel. Cabron didn’t kiss me. What the fuck?

  15

  CALLIE

  There’s a tense undercurrent between us for the rest of the evening. No, not exactly tense…fraught. Like we’re both waiting for the other to do something. Neither one of us makes a move, though. I’m not going to be the one that hits on my kidnapper, after all. I can’t tell if the attraction I feel for him is because of my khui or if it’s because of who he is. Everything’s so messed up.

  It’s like he’s a completely different person now that we’re away from the others, though. He’s still terse and stubborn as shit, but he talks to me like I’m a person and he doesn’t constantly demand that I fling myself on his dick. We have conversations. We talk about family and survival and how weird this entire situation is. With every moment that passes, I feel as if I can understand him a little more.

  Or maybe I’m the one that’s different now that we’re away from the others. Who knows. All I know is that it’s making me just a little crazy to try and figure it out.

  I can’t hate a guy for weeks on end and then get all giddy over him the moment we get some alone time. That’s not supposed to be how it works. Even so, I think about it all night. And when I go to sleep in my bed of furs by the fire, I’m still thinking about it.

  I close my eyes, but I can’t sleep. My mind is utterly focused on M’tok on the opposite side of the fire. All I keep thinking about is the way he looked at me when I put my hand on his jaw. Of the way he grabbed me and pulled me forward until I was pushed up against him, my breasts on his chest, my legs straddling his…and the bastard still didn’t kiss me.

  It’s like he was practically daring me to do it.

  I shouldn’t want him to kiss me. I should be plotting the best way to poison his breakfast since he didn’t think anything of drugging me. Instead, my hand moves to my chest. I can feel the ever-present vibration of my cootie, singing encouragement. If it could speak, I’m sure it’d be telling me to go to him. To just cross over past the fire and slide under M’tok’s furs and make a baby with him.

  But I don’t do what I’m told. I want to be the one in charge of decisions. I want to have some control in a life that feels increasingly out of control.

  And since I’m not going to be the one that kisses him or makes the first move? I slide my hand lower, down my belly and into my leggings. I’m hot and achy between my thighs, my folds completely wet. I find my clit and begin to stroke it, teasing it in little circles to try and ease some of the need boiling inside me.

  Across the cave, I hear the rustle of furs as M’tok shifts in his bedding. A moment later, he groans low in his throat, the sound so quiet it’s practically inaudible.

  I freeze.

  Is he touching himself, too?

  “Calida,” he whispers, and I hear the slide of his hand over his cock. I picture him pumping it with forceful, brutish motions, desperate to find release. Is he being deliberately loud, trying to entice me into his furs? Or is he trying to be stealthy and failing miserably?

  I have no idea, but two can play this game.

  I rub my fingers over my clit and let a little whimper escape my throat.

  M’tok goes still. The only sound in the cave is his breathing, raspy and hard.

  Knowing he’s listening makes my own arousal ratchet up. I’m on fire with hunger, and I spread my legs under the furs, arching my hips against my hand as I rub my clit. I can hear the slick, wet sounds my flesh makes as I touch myself. It’s so loud in the cave that not even the sound of my cootie can drown it out, and I don’t even care. Let him hear it. Let him wonder about how wet I am. Let him think about touching me, or dragging me into his furs in the middle of the night and—

  And then I’m coming. With a gaspy little sigh, release shudders through me and I come so hard that my leggings flood with even more moisture. I clamp them tight around my hand, trapping it against my skin and suck in deep breaths in the aftermath of my climax. I feel good now, but not complete. Not sated. The cootie will make sure I never get enough of a release until I take M’tok as my mate.

  “Calida,” he murmurs again, and then his breath hisses. I imagine him stroking his shaft as he comes, milking it of every bit of his release, and then lying in his furs feeling as frustrated and helpless as I am.

  Masturbating used to be fun.

  Now, the only fun part of it is teasing M’tok. I bite back a frustrated sigh.

  16

  M’TOK

  I wake up early the
next morning and notice with smug pleasure that the skies are a dark, unpleasant gray and snow falls so thick that it obscures the mountains around us. There will be no travel this morning, or perhaps even the next.

  Which means C’lie—Calida—is all mine for yet another day.

  Immediately, I look over to her furs, expecting to see her rounded form curled in them. They are empty, though, and panic fires through my chest. I scan the snows, but they are unbroken with footsteps and Calida is not so stubborn that she would risk her life on the steep, narrow trails just to spite me.

  She must be deeper inside the cave.

  I move to the fire and stoke it, waking the coals from their sleep and adding more fuel. I need to be cautious with our supplies if we will be here for a long time, but I will not have Calida shivering in the cold. I can go out and get more fuel later if I must. There are bushes that cling to the rocks up high, and the stumpy-legged creatures that look like smaller, furrier cousins to the dvisti will surely be plant eaters, which means we can burn their dung as well.

  Once the fire is stoked, I move to Calida’s furs and begin to tidy them. Immediately, the scent of her overtakes me. Her arousal yet perfumes the furs, and I groan, holding them against my face and drinking in her scent. My khui throbs hard, urgent with need, and my cock is full and erect within the space of a breath. Never have I smelled anything as good as her. The sounds she made last night as she pleasured herself will haunt me forever. I need her. Badly.

  And she teased me. She knew I was listening and let me hear her touching herself. Taunting me with it.

  Even though I ache, I grin into the furs. What a female. She is utterly unafraid and bold. I am the luckiest of males, even if she makes me chase her for so long that it makes me crazed with hunger. I have given her plenty of time, and with every day that passes, I can see her smile brightens more and more. The question is…can I last?

  Because Calida is stubborn. Very stubborn. And I am fraying at the edges a bit more with every day that passes. I came so close to taking her yesterday. She went willingly into my arms and I pulled her against my chest and held her there. I wanted nothing more than to toss her down onto the cave floor and pleasure her until she begged me to take her…but then I worried she would hate me.

  I am so tired of her hate. Her smiles are much better, and I will not risk them.

  So I released her. And she seemed…disappointed? Which was odd. It felt like the right thing to do, and yet part of me wonders if I misread her. Was she expecting something I did not give her?

  Should I have pleasured her? She touched herself last night…

  With this on my mind, I drink in her scent in one last deep breath, then get to my feet to find her. With my khui humming in my chest, it is easy to pick her scent in the air, and the smell of her cunt—and her arousal—lingers, making my skin tingle as I go deeper into the cave. I am not far inside when I hear what sounds like the splash of water, and I head toward the hot trickle that comes from deep within. No doubt she is there, gathering water for tea.

  I am not prepared for the feast that meets my eyes when I see her.

  Calida has her back to me, but even from a distance I can see she is naked. Her exposed body is lush, her buttocks rounded and large, her hips thick. As she turns, I can see her large teats as she drags a wet bit of fur over them, washing her body. Her eyes are closed, her mane piled atop her head, and her leather-colored skin gleams with moisture. She is washing herself, and the sight makes me utterly hungry for more. I growl at the sight of her, unable to stop myself.

  Her eyes open and instead of gasping in surprise or getting angry, Calida looks me in the eye. Her chin lifts and then she drags the wet bit of leather over her teats again, wetting them. It is almost as if she is defiant, daring me to touch her. "What do you want?"

  I am suddenly tired of these games. I heard her touch herself last night. She knows I did. And now she washes herself in front of me. She does not demand that I leave or stop looking at her. In fact, she continues with a defiant tilt to her chin, and deliberately lowers the cloth until it brushes over the curls shielding her cunt. "You know what I want from you," I rasp, aching for her. "My question is—what do you want from me?"

  Calida arches an eyebrow at me. She wets the cloth with a bit of the hot water and then deliberately drags it over her rounded belly and between her thighs again. "What makes you think I want anything from you?"

  "Then why do you look at me like that when you touch yourself?"

  She pauses. "Like what?"

  I take a bold step forward. "Like you want it to be my hand between your thighs and not yours."

  She gasps, her eyes half-lidded with arousal. I can smell the perfume of her need hanging in the air, thicker here. She still hungers for me. Her khui sings to mine, and the tips of her teats are hard and tight, as if begging to be touched. Her lips part but she says nothing, just watches me. She does not retreat. She does not order me to leave or to stop looking at her. Instead, she simply runs the wet cloth over her folds again, touching herself.

  I remember that when my Calida is given too much room, she runs away. I remember holding her in my arms yesterday, and she looked at me hungrily—the same way she does now—but did nothing. It is time to stop giving her so much room, then. I take another bold step forward, but she does not retreat. "Tell me that you want me to touch you, Calida."

  Her eyes flutter and I can hear her suck in a breath. Her fingers clench on the cloth, and she watches me as I take another step forward.

  "You ache, do you not?" My voice is low and enticing, like I am gentling a skittish bird. "You ached last night when you touched yourself in your furs, and it did nothing to ease that ache, did it?"

  Her tongue darts out and she licks her lips. "M'tok…"

  My name in her mouth is the sweetest thing I have ever heard. I take the cloth from her hands and wet it, then begin to wash her with careful motions. I start on her shoulders, waiting for her to tell me to go away, to stop bothering her. To leave her alone. The C'lie of a week ago would have done all these things and thrown something at my head for daring to come so close. But this Calida in front of me knows I will not do anything she does not like. She knows I hunger for her beyond all reasoning, and that I will not touch her unless she wishes it. "Tell me to stop touching you," I command her. "And I will." And I glide the cloth down her arm, fascinated by the droplets that trickle down her beautiful golden skin. "But if you do not tell me, there is no reason to stop."

  She does not move away. Instead, she only shudders, a little moan escaping her when I drag the wet cloth over her glorious teats.

  I want to touch her so badly. I put a hand to the back of her neck and pull her closer to me, bending down so I can rub my nose to hers. I want to lick her all over, taste her sweetness, but I must move slowly. "Tell me what you need, Calida."

  She steps closer to me, arching her back, and the tips of her nipples brush against my chest.

  I groan, unable to help myself. I drag the wet cloth over them, teasing the tips and enjoying the sound of her gasps. I love the feel of her slippery, wet skin as it brushes against mine, love the weight of her large teats. The females of my people only had protruding teats when they were nursing, but I love the sight of Calida's prominent ones. They are soft and inviting and I cannot resist touching them.

  "M'tok," she murmurs again, and her voice makes my khui sing louder. My body aches with how fiercely I need her. Everything is need, and I know it cannot be filled until Calida welcomes me. Until then, I will take what she gives and be satisfied. But it does not mean I cannot hunger, and it is hunger that makes me toss aside the cloth and put my hand boldly on her belly. She is soft and round here, and I trail my fingers in a deliberately slow fashion toward her cunt, waiting for her to push my hand away.

  She never does. She only holds tighter to me, her fingers gripping my arm for balance.

  So I slide my hand lower, touching the dark curls between her thighs. I want to
touch her face again, but I cannot explore her folds and do the same. So I press my mouth to her mane, burying my mouth in the scented waves, and touch her where she is hottest and wettest.

  Calida moans and her nails dig into the flesh of my arm.

  “Tell me what you like,” I murmur again. “I want to give it to you.” She says nothing to guide me, though, so I explore her with light fingers, learning the slick softness of her cunt. My fingers dip into what must be the entrance to her core, and I groan into her mane, because I want nothing more than to sink my cock deep inside. But this is about Calida, about getting her to trust me enough so she comes running to my arms instead of fleeing me on sight. And right now she is pliant and sweet in my grip, so I ignore the hot, aching throb of my cock and focus on her.

  My fingers skate over a rounded nub at the apex of her folds, and Calida gasps, jerking against me. I bite back a growl of pure pleasure, because that is the sound she made last night as she touched herself.

  “Aha,” I whisper into her mane. “Do you like it when I touch you there?”

  She sags against my chest when I run my fingers over it again. “Oh god, M’tok, don’t…”

  I tense, freezing. She wants me to stop?

  “Don’t stop,” she moans.

  Fierce satisfaction rushes through me, and I rub her harder. She squirms against my touch, and I learn quickly that it is not how roughly I touch her that she likes but a ticklish, light caress instead. She responds the sweetest when I glide my drenched fingertips against the sides of the nub, teasing it, and she claws at my arm, her face pressed against my shoulder as her hips jerk against my hand and she rocks against my touch. When she comes, the sound wrenched from her is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard, and she soaks my hand with her wet release.