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Oh.
“I like to carry you,” he says in a whisper-soft voice. “Because I get to feel all your softness against my skin.”
I bite back a whimper, unable to break his gaze, even when he pushes me backward a step and then I’m pressed against the vines, my back to the cliff wall, and R’jaal pressing up against me on the other side. He hitches my thigh higher, forcing my legs apart, and I suck in a breath as his other hand skims over my spread pussy.
“When we get somewhere safe,” R’jaal murmurs, the pads of his fingers stroking over my clit and making me want to crawl out of my skin with need, “I am going to lick your beautiful cunt for an entire afternoon.”
My lips part as a hungry moan escapes me. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His mouth twitches with amusement. “That is simply ‘okay’ to you?”
“Yes please,” I correct, because I don’t want him to change his mind. “That sounds amazing, actually.”
His gaze dips to my mouth, and then he smiles down at me. “That is more like my sweet R’slind.”
Am I his sweet Rosalind, then? Heat pulses between my thighs, and when he leans in and rubs his fingers over my clit again, I gasp, already on the edge of a climax. But the cruel, cruel man pulls his hand away and licks his fingers clean of my taste, then reaches for the vines overhead.
“Hold on.”
And what can I do but cling to him in an aroused daze? Every heave of his grip as he hauls us up drags me down against his cock, until I’m practically writhing with hunger. Unfair, I want to pant, but I also don’t want him to stop. I don’t want him to ever stop.
By the time we get to the top and he hauls us over the edge, I’m dizzy with need and my chest is vibrating like I’ve got a swarm of angry bees lodged between my tits. R’jaal sets me down gently, but I stagger anyhow. If the others notice how dazed I am, they don’t comment.
“It’s snowing outside,” Tia tells us the moment we get to the landing. “How do you want to work this? I don’t have shoes, and she doesn’t, either.” She gestures at me. “The new guys have shoes, but they’re not cold weather shoes.”
I glance over at Set’nef. He’s wearing sandals with a thick, cork-like base, probably made from another woodsy sort of mushroom.
R’jaal turns to Noj’me. “Shoes? Extra shoes?”
She brightens. “I have, yes. They are…” She struggles to find the word. “…ceremonial.” Noj’me drops her bag and immediately digs through it, hunting for them, and then produces a gaudy, red and orange beaded sandal that is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. “Here.”
R’jaal nods, taking them from her. He puts one on his foot, and his big toes hang over the edge. It’s a little ridiculous, but no more so than the fact that he’s naked and his cock is pointing right in my direction like a compass. When he stands, he straightens and turns to the others. “Share my words, Noj’me. We are leaving out into the snows. It will be cold, and there will be snow and bitter wind. You must stay with me and do not fall behind. After a short walk, we will get to a cave with supplies and there we will find warm wraps and safety.”
“How’s this going to work?” Tia asks. “We’ve only got one extra pair of shoes.”
R’jaal speaks again, with so much authority in his voice that I shiver with arousal. “Tal’nef will carry our captive. Set’nef will carry T’ia. Noj’me will carry the packs, and I will carry R’slind.”
And I moan again, unable to help myself. More carrying.
Twenty-Two
R’JAAL
The moment we step outside the warmth of the fruit cave, there is a collective gasp from the ancestors. They are not ready for the chill, even though I warned them of snow. Against me, R’slind whimpers and presses herself against my skin, but she does not speak a word of complaint. I turn on the shallow ledge that leads down to the ground. “Watch your step. The snow will be very cold against the skin, but as long as we stay moving, it will not be so bad. Your khui will keep you warm.”
At least, I hope it will. I suspect it works the same for the ancestors as it does for me.
R’slind clings to me, her cold fingers digging into my mane. I rub her back as I carry her pressed to my front. “It is shocking at first, but you get used to it, I promise.”
“Next time someone dumps me on an alien planet, I’m going to demand a summer drop instead of a winter one,” she says, shivering.
I do not reply. Suh-mer is the name of one of the Croatoan females, and also the name for the human season of warmth. There is not one on our world, but I do not want R’slind to panic just yet. I know what it is like to leave a pleasant place of warmth for this wintry landscape, and it can be a difficult adjustment.
