Page 49 of Tattle Tail
“We are wearing too many clothes.” Her fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt. In her haste, her claws sliced off the buttons and tore into the fabric.
“I don’t care. I have more shirts.” He rose, capturing her mouth. His tongue was smooth against hers, but strong. Everything about him spoke of strength, from his broad shoulders to the humor that sparkled in his eyes. He did not fear being seen as foolish or ridiculous. His strength of character, the surety of self, spoke louder than brawn or claws.
He worked her shirt open, the fabric slipping down her shoulders. The cool night air braced against her overheated skin.
“Beautiful,” he said. Fingers reached for her. “May I?”
“If you don’t, I will burst.”
His fingers brushed against her, tracing the pattern of her striations over her collarbone and down her torso. He cupped her breasts, squeezing and rolling a thumb over her nipples. He watched her reaction, his eyes tracking how she licked her lips and tilted her head back with a moan.
His touch was unlike anything else, familiar and welcome but also thrilling and new.
“I want to taste you,” he said.
“Yes,” she moaned.
They rolled until she was on her back and wiggling out of her trousers. He hooked his fingers into the band of her underwear, pulling the fabric down slowly. Her tail swept along the sleeping bag.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Do you taste as good as you look?”
She spread her legs in invitation. “Find out.”
He kissed a trail down her abdomen. As he reached the apex of her thighs, he paused. Tal were not so different from humans, she knew, so why did he hesitate?
He inhaled her scent, then dived in.
She jolted at the sensation of his smooth tongue, wet and warm, against her inner folds. He groaned, like a man savoring the finest delicacy. The vibration made her tail curl. He continued to lick and suck, working her.
Her hand reached for his head, grabbing hair instead of an ear. She had a moment of confusion as it took her pleasure-overloaded mind a moment to recall that humans kept their ears on the side of their heads. Her fingers twisted into his hair, guiding him. He responded with enthusiasm, following her lead.
A climax swelled inside, rising from the depths, and sweeping over her. Her entire body tensed, and she cried out, unable to take more.
He chuckled, obviously pleased with himself. One hand pinned her thigh to the side, and the other stroked her. He paused, giving her an opportunity to say no or pull away. Ceasing now seemed impossible. His touch unlocked a craving inside her and she wanted more. Everything.
A finger prodded her entrance. Her back arched off the ground, eager to meet his touch. He worked a finger in, then another. The stretch felt satisfying until the point of being too full. Then he crooked his fingers, hitting one of the nerve bundles inside her channel.
Her entire body responded, pleasure singing across her nerves.
“More,” she gasped. She needed more. She could never have enough.
“I have a perfectly good bed in my cabin,” he said, stretching out alongside her. Somehow, he had divested the rest of his clothing. Good.
“No. Here. Under the stars,” she said. It seemed fitting. Right.
“You’ll get cold.”
“You’ll keep me warm.” She ran a hand over his chest. Heat radiated from him. She leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Do not disappoint me, Joseph Moonquest.”
He groaned. “Stars, I love it when you’re bossy.”
“I am not bossy. I know what I want,” she said.
“And what is that?”
She pushed him flat onto his back and slung herself over him in one smooth motion.
“You.” The response came easily. Not long ago, she’d have blushed and fumbled over a reply, fearful of rejection. Surviving a crash landing gave her the perspective to ignore those useless worries.
