Page 20 of Healing His Mate
Nalba chuckles when she feels me quiver against her, then her expression turns puzzled as she looks to her left. I see that her hand is covered in the sticky, blue b’fiko syrup as she pulls it from the bowl. “What is this?” she asks as she spreads her fingers wide and then presses them together, mystified at the strings of syrup that drape from finger to finger.
“It is b’fiko syrup. Taste it. It is sweet,” I tell her. Then I lean down and take her pinky into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, and releasing it with a pop. The thick nectar slides down my throat, and as much as I am enjoying the taste of it, I wish it were the sweetness from Nalba’s cunt instead. “Mmm,” I groan, closing my eyes.
When I open them, I find Nalba staring at my mouth. “Hmm, it does look quite delicious,” she says as she presses her thumb to my lips and traces a line of syrup along my bottom lip, all the way to the top. But she does not kiss me like I thought she would. Her tongue glides along the same path of her thumb, cleaning the syrup from my lips, slowly. “Mmm, Waldric,” she says, flicking the tip of her tongue at the corner of my lips once more. “Your syrup is mouthwatering. I could guzzle it down all day long.”
If she wishes to play this game, I will gladly participate. I dip two fingers in the syrup bowl until they are blue from end to claw. With my clean hand, I thread my fingers through her smooth, thick mane. Then I pull, exposing her neck. “And what if I spilled my syrup all over that sweet face?”
My pull was not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to let her know she is not in control, despite what she may think. Her eyes widen in shock at first, but then I see a flicker of hunger in them. She likes this. “What if it dripped along your throat?” I ask, painting her neck blue as I trace a line from chin to collarbone. The moment I am done painting her skin, I run my tongue back up to her chin, pressing light kisses along the way.
“I want it, Waldric,” she pants. “Cover me in it.” Then she says the three words I have longed to hear since I first laid eyes on her. “I am yours.” Upon hearing it, I no longer act with a light touch. My primal needs surge forth, and I tear at her clothes, desperate to see her skin bare. I rip the seam of her tunic, shredding it up the side.
She does the same to mine, then her hands tug at the waist of my pants as she kisses my bare chest. “Off!” she cries out when I am still not naked. Without speaking, we let go of each other so we can quickly remove our own clothing. Once that is done, my hand flies to my chest, covering my heart as I take her in. Her body is slender and lean, her breasts bounce slightly as she straightens her spine. Her breasts are smaller than the humans’, but they are big enough to fit inside my palms. Her nipples are a lovely dark brown shade, and they stiffen under my gaze.
Nalba reaches out and takes my cock in hand. Syrup still coating her hand, she strokes me once, and the grip of her hand paired with the wetness of the syrup about does me in.
“Fuck,” I grit as I start to pump into her hand. Then I stop, growling at my own selfishness. “No!”
She shrinks back at the volume of my voice, and for a moment, I see genuine, palpable fear. I quickly decide this is not the ideal moment to demand the name of the person who planted this fear in her head so that I may rip their innards out in front of their weeping family.
“Nalba, I–” I stutter, “you will always come before I do.”
Then I gently guide her legs apart, her cunt slightly darker in color than the rest of her glowing golden skin. Her folds glisten with her juices, causing saliva to fill my mouth. She realizes she is safe with me, and I see her visibly relax, leaning back on the table. I dip my finger in the syrup, then mark the area between her breasts with a dot. I continue creating a dotted line down the center of her body until I reach the apex of her thighs.
Using my other hand, I spread her pretty folds and inhale deeply. I would normally take this time to tell her how addicted I already am to her scent, but I cannot. I cannot speak. Nalba’s cunt is wet and lovely and right in front of my face. Words would only get in the way.
Tracing the outer edges of her cunt with the syrup, I watch as her back arches slightly. Her eyes are locked on mine, and she is desperate for me. “Please, Waldric,” she confirms with a keening cry.
“Mine” is all I can say as I lean in and shove my tongue inside her wet heat.
CHAPTER 10
NALBA
My hips buck the moment his mouth is on me. Bracing my hands behind me on the table Waldric uses as his workstation, I lean back farther, giving him better access. Goddess, this male is lapping at my center as if it is his only source of sustenance. And I fucking love it. He continues his assault on my cunt, thrusting in and out with his tongue just as he would with his cock. Occasionally, he takes a break by licking the syrup from my folds and adding more so he can do it again. I squirm under him, surprised by how wet this sticky play is making me.
I assumed he was sexually inexperienced. Everything about him makes it seem like he does not know what to do with a naked female spread before him.
I was very,verywrong. As he sucks and kisses my folds, he inserts two fingers inside me. Oh yes, he is incredibly skilled. He pumps into me, groaning each time my walls clench around his fingers. “You are so wet for me, pretty one. You like how I fuck you with my hand?”
“Y-yes,” I pant, gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles turn pale yellow. Each time I look down at him, my eyes are drawn to his tattoo. It covers his entire shoulder and the right side of his chest in large, black swirls. I want to trace each loop with my tongue. “More, Waldric. More!”
He adds a third finger and begins following the trail of syrup dots he left down my chest and stomach with his tongue. In and out, he thrusts his thick, calloused digits, and while I am filled, I need more. I need all of him. His cock is magnificent to look at, especially with the way there is a slight curve to it. I want it inside me, pumping and stretching me wide.
When he licks the final dot clean, he kisses his way over to my left breast and sucks on the firm tip. I am shaking all over, sweat coats my skin, and I feel as if he is nudging me toward the edge, but pulling me back each time I threaten to go over. I let out an anguished cry as his mouth leaves my breast, and he makes his way to the other. Then he grabs my mane again and tugs at the same moment his fang brushes against my nipple, and his fingers slam into me. I am gone.
He keeps his hands where they are in my mane and deep inside my cunt, but his lips cover mine to silence my screams. I ride out my release, my entire body quaking in his arms as I claw at his bare back. As I start to come down, he releases his grip on my mane, stroking it instead. “Yes, Nalba,” he whispers against my mouth. “So pretty.”
I press my forehead against his, still trying to catch my breath. “Where . . . Where did you learn to do that?”
He pulls back and tilts his head to the side. “Where do you think I learned it?” he says with a chuckle. Then eventually asks, “Do you want me to provide names?”
“No, no,” I reply, huffing out a breath, amused. “I suppose I was not expecting that from you.”
He closes his eyes and nods. “You think because I knock over a pot of water when you touch me, that I do not know how to properly work a female’s cunt?”
“It was just surprising. A good surprise!” I assure him. Pressing a hand to his chest, I revel in his warmth. His skin is soft and comforting. There is give to his middle and his sides, unlike the sharply cut abdominals of the warriors. I find I prefer it. He is like a fur blanket, and I want him to cover me from head to toe, shielding me from the universe.
When I notice a drop of syrup on his hip, I reach down and scoop it with my finger and lick it off. “Another good surprise is your cooking,” I tell him as I pull him close. “You are extremely skilled.”