Ice Planet Barbarians: Barbarian's Redemption Part 15

"I like it. Too much." His voice is gruff. "Never hide your face from me." Bek touches my cheek lightly and then gets to his feet. As he does, I notice a bulge in the front of his loincloth that he discreetly adjusts as he walks away.

Well. I don't know what to think of that.

No more is said as we sit by the fire and Bek repairs his weapons. The bone they use for their spears and knives wears down easily, he tells me, and must constantly be maintained. I offer to do it, but he just mock-growls at me, and so I sit by the fire and play with my hair a bit more. I just play with my clean hair and watch him work...and think.

I think a lot. Mostly about Bek. Namely...his body. After we finished my bath and I was wrapped in furs, my hair squeaky-clean, I was sleepy. I laid down to nap, and as I did, Bek heated water for himself and washed up. And even though I was supposed to be sleeping...I watched him. He washes himself in a much more brisk manner than he touched me. His hands slide quickly up and down strong blue calves, and I'm fascinated as the rag moves over his thick, muscular thighs. His tail flicks as he cleans himself, moving back and forth across that fascinating bubble b.u.t.t of his. Then his hands move over his chest, and then...lower. I can't help but notice the large size of his c.o.c.k and his, um, spur. I feel the pulsing between my thighs, feel myself grow slippery there, and I want to squirm.

I hated the way resonance made me feel at first. Now I'm both fascinated and terrified by it. I want Bek to touch me. I'm scared of what will happen if he does. I know how s.e.x works-I've seen lots of slaves have s.e.x with their masters, even if I never did-and it doesn't look pleasant. But I know it can be-should be. Georgie and the others wouldn't be so happy otherwise, or so quick to kiss their mates.

I touch my lips. Kissing. That's something else I've never done. Do I want to do it with Bek?

I think of his hard mouth curving at the corners to form a smile.

Yeah. I think I would like to kiss Bek.

I watch him as he works on a smaller knife, honing the edge of the blade to a razor-sharp edge. When he's satisfied with it, he gives it one more glance over and then flips it out to me, handle out. "What do you think?"

I take it from him, shy that he's asking my opinion. I don't know anything about knives. It looks fine, though. I run my finger along the edge, and it feels sharp. "Nice."

"It is for you," he tells me. "I will make you a spear, too, so we can hunt together."

It's for me? I hold it close to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, ridiculously pleased. It's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. I open my mouth to say thank you, then close it again. He doesn't want thanks. So I just let my eyes show him how pleased I am.

He grunts, dusting the bone slivers off his lap, but he looks satisfied.

12.

ELLY.

Bek fills my thoughts for the rest of the night, and by the time I drift off to sleep, my mind is still on him. Instead of dreaming about cages and zoos and horrible things in my past, I dream about Bek. About blue skin and big hands that wash me with gentle care, taking extra time to caress my b.r.e.a.s.t.s with the soapy cloth. In my dream, I want him to go between my legs and touch me where I'm aching, but he never does. He just skirts around my thighs, rubbing my belly with the cloth over and over again until I make a sound of protest.

I wake up, a whimper in my throat, my hands between my thighs. I'm wet and aching, and I feel so needy. My nipples hurt, and all of me feels restless. My hand between my legs feels good, though, and I can't resist stroking my fingers up and down my folds. It feels too intense to do more than that, though, so I caress myself a few times, careful to keep away from the more sensitive areas.

"Ell-ee?"

Bek's husky voice makes me freeze. I look over at him in the dim light of the cave. The fire's not more than a few flickers amidst the dung chips, and I can only see a vague shadow where Bek is, except for the bright glow of his eyes in the darkness.

"You were moaning in your sleep," he tells me, concern in his voice. I hear the furs rustle as he gets to his feet. "Was it a bad dream?"

Oh no. It wasn't a bad dream in the slightest. In fact, it was the opposite of a bad dream. If he wasn't talking, I could actually go back to the dream. "It's nothing," I say quickly, and squeeze my thighs tight around my hands. I don't want to remove my hands from there. I want to keep touching myself because it feels too good to stop.

"Are you scared?" He drops down to crouch next to my bed. "Do you want to hold my hand while you sleep?"

In the past few days, when I've had bad dreams, he's let me hold on to him and it helped. Right now, though, he can't hold my hand...because it's between my thighs and sticky with my arousal. I should say something. Tell him to go away. To let me sleep.

Instead, I do nothing. I let him peel the covers back, and he sees my hands pressed at the junction of my thighs. He groans, khui humming, and I bite back a whimper of my own.

"Are you touching yourself, my Ell-ee?" His voice is so low and husky that it feels like a caress.

I nod, biting my lip, and stroke my folds again while he's watching. It feels deliciously naughty and bold all at once. I want him to see it, though. I want to know what he's going to do, how he's going to react...and if he likes it.

The breath hisses from his lungs. "You want me to watch?"

I do, I think. I rub myself again, squirming on the blankets, and then stop, because I keep touching spots that feel far too intense.

"Why do you stop?" he asks, settling down onto the blankets next to me. He's not touching me, not yet, and I want that desperately. His touch is safe. His touch makes me feel comforted. Not alone. "Ell-ee?" he asks when I remain silent.

"I don't know," I whisper. "I've never done this."

"Never?"

I shake my head. I never had the privacy before. Never wanted to. Never looked at a man with fascination over the play of his muscles like I have with Bek... I feel different around him. Alive.

And I want his touch. I remember the way it felt to have his hands on me as he washed me, the velvet softness of his warm skin, the feeling of his big body next to mine. I moan and stroke myself again and then stop.

"Are you afraid?"

"A little," I admit. Whenever I touch myself while thinking of him, things feel so intense. I stop because I'm afraid of that intensity. It makes me anxious.

"Can I join you under your furs?" he asks.

My heart hammers in my breast, even as my cootie's song grows louder and louder. "Yes."

Bek slides under the blankets next to me, and his leg brushes mine. He pulls me close, tucking me against his shoulder, and it feels weird considering I still have my hands between my thighs. He's still wearing his loincloth, and I can feel the leather against my skin-and the hard erection trapped underneath it. But he doesn't do anything other than settle my body against his. "Now you can keep touching yourself," he tells me. "I have you."

He does, and I feel the small knot of anxiety go away. But I want more than just this. "I want you to do it," I tell him, my voice small.

There is a long pause, and I feel his body tense next to mine. "You...wish me to touch you?"

"If you want to."

He caresses my jaw, the small touch enough to make my nipples ache. "My mate, nothing would bring me greater joy. But I do not wish to frighten you with touches you do not want."

And that's why I want him. Because he's careful with me. Because he's safe. So I take the hand that's tracing my face and guide it lower. My breath quickens, because I'm both terrified of this and excited by this.

"Your fingers are wet," he murmurs, letting me lead him. "Is it because you are wet?"

A small whimper escapes me, the only answer I can give, and I slide his big hand to my breast.

"Do you wish me to touch your nipples?" he asks. "Or shall I just stroke your skin?"

I want it all. "Yes."

He chuckles low. "That does not answer my question."

"Both."

"I can do both," he tells me. His fingers lightly skim over my skin, caressing, and I feel the calluses on his hand rasp against my skin. It's a mixture of scratchy and soft, hard and warm, and I love it. I love the way his big hand cups my small breast, and he makes me feel so protected against him. I burrow my face against his neck and inhale his scent. I want to wallow in all of him.

His fingertips graze over my nipples, and I moan, because it sends a jolt straight to my insides. My cootie thrums in my breast, and his is singing as loud as mine. It feels as if my entire chest is vibrating with its excitement, and it's turning me on, too.

"My brave, sweet mate," Bek murmurs against my hair, and his thumb rubs over my nipple. "You are the most beautiful female I have ever seen."

"Because...yours?" I pant, arching against that delicate touch. It's the most teasing, frustrating, delicious thing I've ever felt.

"Even if you were not mine, I would think you beautiful." His nose rubs against my cheek, his breath warm against my skin. "Soft, small, strong and so lovely."

I moan at his words, because I like the thought of him finding me attractive despite our resonance.

"I like your pale skin," he whispers into my ear, his tongue flicking against my earlobe. His hand slows, and then he gives my breast another caress. "I like your small teats with their pink tips." He strokes my belly and then brushes his fingers over the curls of my s.e.x. "And I like this little tuft here."

"You do?" I've noticed the sa-khui are hairless there, and I wondered what he would think.

"I do," he tells me, and his tongue drags against my earlobe again, making me shudder. "Because it hides your folds. It teases me with what could be underneath." He strokes his fingers over the curls again. "Do you want me to touch you and find out?"

I give a sharp little cry and cling to his muscular arm. I want it more than anything else in the world right now.

"Tell me," he whispers, and nips at my ear.

"Yes," I pant, nearly beside myself with the aching need of all of this. "I want that."

His big fingers skim lower, and then he's finally, finally touching me. It's just as intense as I imagined. His big finger rubs against my curls and then glides downward. He traces the seam of my folds, leaving me gasping and clutching at his forearm. That's all he does, though-just rubs. "More?" he murmurs into my ear.

I give him a quick, jerky little nod.

"My brave mate," he tells me, and then dips his finger deeper. It glides through my slippery folds and traces up and down, learning my most sensitive parts. I moan and squirm, holding on to his arm and panting. He brushes his finger over my c.l.i.t and then goes lower, pressing deep against my core before dragging back up and playing with my c.l.i.t again.

It feels like too much. Like I'm going to explode. I can't handle it, and I push his hand away, gasping.

"What is it?" he asks, nuzzling my hair again. "Tell me."

I shake my head, unable to articulate it. "Feels like there's something wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Makes me shaky when you touch me there. Like...something's going to burst."

His eyes narrow at me, and he rests his hand on my belly. "Ell-ee...have you never touched yourself? Made yourself come?"

I shake my head. "I lived in a cage. No privacy."

"Your parents did not teach you about mating?"

"I was taken when I was young. I...don't remember us ever talking about it." I let my fingers play on his arm. I love touching his arm, because it's so powerful. "I know what mating is, though. I've seen others do it to their slaves."

"Did they ever pleasure their females?"

"No. Why would they?"

"Right. Slaves." He looks thoughtful, then presses his mouth to my forehead. "Does it scare you when I touch you? Because of how you feel?"

"A little," I admit. My khui is going wild, my pulse throbbing. It almost feels like I'm going to explode if he touches me there again.

"It is nothing to be afraid of," Bek says softly. "You touch yourself until you cannot bear it any longer, and then your body..." He pauses, thinking. "It goes a bit further, and everything inside you feels as if it is shouting with joy. It is an intense release."

"I like the touches," I admit. I'm just not sure I'm ready for 'intense release' or my body shouting. Already I miss his hand between my thighs, though, and I wiggle against his palm, hoping he'll touch me again. Just...not too much.

"Do you want me to show you what it is like?" he asks. "To stroke yourself until you come?"

BEK.

Her lips part with surprise at my suggestion. There's a lovely flush over her pink skin, and I want to press my mouth to every exposed bit of skin and lick it. I want to bury my face between her thighs and mate my tongue to her c.u.n.t. I want to do so many things to her. But if what Ell-ee says is true, she does not know how to touch herself properly.

I do not want to scare her with my mating enthusiasm. I want her to enjoy herself. I want to see her come, to see her eyes close and the expression of bliss on her face when she gets her release.

I watch as she nibbles on her lip, and I want to lean in and taste it, to mouth-mate with her as the other humans do. I was never fond of it with Claire, but with Ell-ee, I think it will be different. So many things already are. "You would show me?" She buries her face against my shoulder, clearly embarra.s.sed. "I feel silly."

"Why?"

"Because this is something I should know...isn't it?"

"Just because you have never had the chance to touch yourself does not make you silly." I fight back my helpless anger at her captors. At the people who stole her as a child and kept her in a cage. My mate, in a cage. Like an animal. If I think about it for too long, my mind will go black with rage and I will lose control of my anger. I cannot change Ell-ee's past, but I will make sure her future is perfect. "I can show you, and then we can make sure you come, as well." I touch her cheek, because I cannot help myself. I want to touch her all the time. "There is nothing to be embarra.s.sed of."

"All right," she says shyly and gives me a curious look.

I debate getting to my feet and standing in front of her, but I like the feel of her body curled up against my side, the feel of her skin brus.h.i.+ng against mine. "Can I kiss you first? A mouth-mating?"

Her gaze flies to my mouth, and then she looks at me again and nods, shy.