Page 76 of Lorran
“You like that,” he said, rumbling with pleasure.
“Yes. Oh, yes,” she panted.
Lorran continued until he felt her thighs tremble. They were soft but held strength within. Lovely female.
He moved back, and she whimpered, but not for long. One hand stroked her folds, then plunged into her core. Hot and tight, her inner channel gripped him. Her hips pumped, riding his hand.
When she fell…
He had tried to express himself. His entire life, Lorran had been able to use his words to charm and manipulate. For the first time, his words failed. When she had been on her back, no helmet, and staring at the sky, his heart stopped. He had been helpless to prevent the worst from happening.
A part of his soul must have left his body because he felt empty. It was more than the humiliation of having failed to protect his mate. More than the shame of putting his mate in harm’s way.
There was no meaning to existence without her. Somehow, in a short span, Wyn became everything. She was his mate, but more, she was a friend and a companion. They worked together. They helped each other. Not helpless, not when they were together.
Satisfaction rumbled in his chest. His mate was alive, she was luscious; she was his, and he was hers.
His free hand worked his cock. Her fingers dug into his hair, pulling and tugging. She squeezed his horn, stroked the shaft like it was his cock, in rhythm to his own hand.
Her fingernails dug in as she reached her climax, then her weight slumped forward. Her hands slid down his head, his neck, coming to rest on his shoulders, like the force of her pleasure made standing impossible. Impractical.
With his face pressed against her hip, he pulled and twisted at the head of his shaft. She was so gloriously alive and they were together. How full the universe felt at that moment and how empty it had been before his mate.
His release coiled tight at the base of his spine. Close. Bliss bloomed, and he spilled into his hand with a shudder.
* * *
Mylomon had neatly butcheredthe beast and built a fire near the facility, on a patch of packed earth. Old soot and a ring of stones indicated others had used the spot before them. Lorran set to finding more kindling while Wyn delivered a pail of water and a cloth to the male.
“I thought you’d like to wash up.” Water sloshed at her feet as she set the pail down.
Mylomon poked at the embers. Fresh meat sizzled and dripped onto the fire, creating a smokey aroma that made his mouth water.
“Do not drool,” Mylomon said, not taking his eyes off the fire.
“A male cannot survive on rations alone.” Lorran deposited his armful of driftwood.
“False. Rations contain all the necessary nutrients for survival.”
“Survival. Not living.”
Mylomon huffed but did not correct him. “We have waited here too long.”
“Agreed.” Saavi had resisted all attempts at answering questions regarding her mate’s research, neatly deflecting or finding a reason for the questioning to be inappropriate.
“Tomorrow,” Mylomon said. “You need rest.”
“I am not that injured.”
“You move like you were mauled by a wild beast.”
“That is highly accurate,” he sniffed, as if offended, despite being secretly pleased that the male teased him. At least he thought Mylomon teased him.
Lorran gave the male a furtive glance. It was so hard to tell what he thought.
The meal had nearly finished roasting when the others joined them. Caldar brought potable water, plates, and utensils. Mikah arrived, dragging his mother, who carried a basket of berries.
Saavi breathed deep, inhaling the aroma of roasted flesh. “It has been too long since I had anything but ration bars. My thanks.” Lorran watched carefully as she set the basket near the fire and indicated that anyone may help themselves.
