Rektar groans, his eyes closing. His throat works, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Still shy. I don't mind that, because I like being forward with him. I lean in and skim my lips over his. "It tells you," I whisper, "that I am perfectly okay with being pawed by my husband."
He groans again, the sound ragged, and then his fingers slide over my folds. His eyes open as I suck in a breath, and as we stare at each other, he strokes his fingers through my slick heat. "Where is your bed?"
I wiggle against his hand, and I'm rewarded with a thick finger brushing against my clit. "In the bedroom, of course."
Rektar's hand leaves my panties, and I want to cry out from loss. Before I can, though, he's on his feet, me carried in his arms, and he heads for my room so quickly that it makes my head spin. A split second later, I'm on the bed, on my back, and he pushes my skirts up again. His hands go to my panties, ripping at the fabric, and then he pauses. "Can I touch you how I want?"
I nod, frantic.
With a sexy growl in his throat, he finishes tearing my panties off and flings the fabric aside. His eyes feast hungrily on my bare lower half, and then he kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed, his hands on my hips as he hauls me forward. I've never had anyone look at me with such utter focus, and just his expression is getting me aroused. He puts a big hand on the inside of my thigh, caressing my skin, before pushing my legs apart.
"Gonna taste you," he mutters, leaning in. "Can't wait any longer."
I practically wriggle with anticipation at hearing that. "You don't have to wait," I pant. "I want you to touch me." I brush the top of his head, my fingers grazing against his short hair, and give him the smallest of nudges to let him know that I am A-OK with him tasting me.
I expect the first brush of his tongue to be hesitant. Uncertain. I'm totally wrong in that. He uses his thumbs to pull my folds apart, regards me with that hungry look, and then gives me the licking of my life.
A shocked—and aroused—sound escapes me. His tongue is covered in ridges, and when he licks me that hard, I feel each one drag along my skin. My fingers tighten in his hair as he makes a sound of pleasure and goes in for another thorough lick. "Kef me, you taste good."
"You like the way I taste?" I card my fingers through his hair, tightening when he gives me another devastating lick.
"Perfect," he murmurs, lapping at my folds. "You're so perfect. Your cunt's so soft against my tongue, too. And wet. How are you so wet?" He sounds awed.
"Because you turn me on," I tell him, panting. "Because the thought of you touching me makes me go crazy with need."
Rektar makes a low sound of pleasure and licks me again, this time exquisitely slow. He takes his time, the tip of his tongue caressing my clit as he finishes. "What's this little thing here?"
"Clit," I pant. "It's very…sensitive."
He deliberately drags his tongue around it, watching my reaction. The sight of him gazing up at me from between my thighs as he licks me is almost as erotic as the feel of his tongue against my clit. Almost. The two together, though, makes me absolutely crazy. I whimper, my hand tight in his hair as I lift my hips and grind against his mouth.
"Your smell," he growls.
I freeze. Oh god. I forgot. He won't like my smell. The urge to clamp my thighs shut is overwhelming. "I-I can get perfume. Give me just a moment—"
Rektar growls at me. Growls. He locks one arm around my hips, pinning me into place with my pussy right under his nose. "No perfume. I can't stand the smell of that shit. Your natural scent is perfect."
"What?" I stare down at him in surprise.
He rubs his face against my thigh, his mouth wet from his ministrations. "I'd wear your scent on my face all day every day if I could, but I'd be so keffing hard I wouldn't be able to get anything done." He closes his eyes, a blissful expression on his face as he moves back toward my pussy and takes a deep, lingering breath. "Just hide out in the back room and jerk off for hours."
"Like you did in my barn?" I whisper, scandalized and amused both.
"Just like."
I hesitate, caressing his cheek. I want to believe him, but I need to confirm it. "My old master was a mesakkah. A very old one. He said that humans smelled terrible and he wanted me to wear perfume all the time to spare his nose."