She tastes—and feels—amazing. Her mouth is so keffing soft and so wet that it makes me think of a slippery, ready cunt. No wonder humans like to do this with their mouths. And just like a cunt, it needs to be treated gently. So I tease and toy, flirt and caress, and let my tongue make promises. I know I'm doing well when her breath stutters as I pull back, and a whimper escapes her.
Ruth's gaze is unfocused as she stares up at me. I can't resist her pretty mouth, so I lean in and give it another teasing lick. "Better? Or do I need more practice?"
Her eyes flick to my mouth again. "B-better," she breathes. "Much better."
She doesn't pull away, her fingers still scratching at the base of my neck in that intoxicating way. That's encouraging. "I need more instruction," I state boldly, and then pull her close and kiss her again. This time, I take the lead, stroking and delving into her mouth, tasting all of her as I hold her close.
Kef plas-film. Touching Ruth like this is making me more aroused than I've been in years. I swipe my tongue over her lower lip, and I'm fascinated by how plush it is. I can't resist nipping at it like she did to me, and I suck on it to take the sting away.
She whimpers again, and then a strange new scent fills my quarters. It's thick and musky and is emanating completely from Ruth.
Arousal.
I bite back a groan, because this is dangerous. My mouth waters and I want nothing more than to fling her back onto the bed and push my face between her thighs and tongue her cunt like I've been tonguing her mouth. But she's skittish. She's been hurt in the past, and I won't use her.
Gently, I press one last kiss to her perfect, perfect mouth, and then release her. "That was an excellent lesson. Thank you."
She blinks up at me, uncomprehending. Her eyes are still dazed with arousal, and that intense, gorgeous smell permeates the air around us, making my cock ache madly. I can't push her, though. I won't use her like everyone else.
If she comes to my bed, it'll be because she's decided to be there.
Ruth seems to come to herself. With a little shake of her head, she pulls out of my arms, pacing away. She touches her mouth and then moves to the far side of my chamber, seemingly shaken. "So…what happens now?"
"Nothing without your consent, of course." I straighten. "It is entirely your call as to how far you wish to take things."
The human gives me a blank look. "I meant…about the ship. The planet. Where we're going. Not you and me." Her cheeks stain with color. "You know…what happens now?"
Ah. My face heats, too.
38
RUTH
For some reason, I find it adorable that he's blushing.
Have I ever seen this before? Blue cheeks staining darker with embarrassment even as he smiles at me? I smile back because I feel…happy. I shouldn't be happy—we're on the run for our lives. We can't get to the planet we were heading for. We're in danger.
But I just got an amazing hug that I didn't realize I needed so badly, some intense, incredible kisses from a man I can't decide if I like or loathe, and he's just restated again that I'm in the driver's seat. He won't touch me unless I ask for it. It's a powerful, comforting feeling, and it makes me feel safe. I can flirt back and enjoy myself and I know it won't go too far.
For all that he's got a strange sense of right or wrong, he's been absolutely unwavering on his promise not to rape or hurt me, and it just adds to that feeling of security. I wasn't expecting to be affected by kissing him. I did it because of the hug and because I wanted to get the upper hand. When he started tongue-fucking and jack-hammering my face, I regretted it. Some men just don't know how to kiss and never learn. But, incredibly, he paid attention to me and whether or not I was enjoying it. He switched things up.
He noticed my response. My enjoyment of the kiss mattered to him. That's the part that blows my mind. He cared if I liked it or not, so he changed what he was doing. He went slower, softer…sweeter.
And I liked it. I actually want more of it.
I touch my mouth again as I settle in on the bed once more, crossing my legs under me so I won't feel the urge to get up and pace. One person pacing in this room is plenty, and I expect Straik to do so. Instead, he just gazes at me thoughtfully, his head tilted ever so slightly. That little cock of the head (and his new haircut) makes his horns jut out almost obscenely, as if he's some sort of blue demon come to pass judgment on me.