mates do.”
“If you think I’m going to bone you for the privilege of hunting–”
“Not sex. Boning?” He looks at me curiously. “Not boning. Just touching. Holding each other.”
My guilty little heart twitches again. He’s lonely. God, I am such a dick. Poor Raahosh, to get stuck with the most stubborn woman ever. I soften. “I can handle that, I think.”
Raahosh gives me a silent nod, and then straightens. “We should clean the cave and prepare for the hunt tomorrow if we will be out.”
“Let’s do it,” I say, hiding my excitement. Truth is, I’m a little nervous and fluttery at the thought of sleeping in his arms tonight and letting him touch me. My mind goes back to the fierce pussy-licking from earlier and a pulse of need rocks through me. My cootie immediately starts purring so loud it sounds like a chainsaw.
Dammit, cootie. Show some restraint, girl.
We putter around the cave for the next few hours and it’s surprisingly companionable. Raahosh makes me a pair of shoes with some scraped leather hides he’s been saving for the past few days. I knew he’d treated them with a mash of innards and crap he’d used from the critters themselves, and the results were a tough leather with a bit of fur on the inside to keep my feet warm. They are little more than mittens for my feet with drawstrings at the ankles, but I’m pleased with them nevertheless. I work on my bow, and when I tell Raahosh about the kind of material I need for the bowstring, he produces something from his traveling pack that’s a lot like a thick twine. I string my bow and hope for the best, and then set about making arrows. I have to use bone for those, and the ribs and wing-bones from something unnameable that looks like an ostrich with shorter legs — four of them, mind you — ends up being perfect. I now have arrows that are a little bit shorter than I am used to, but lightweight and deadly as needles at the tip after a good sharpening. I sharpen and fletch my arrows for what feels like hours, until the fire dies down and I’m nodding off with the knife in my hand.
Raahosh takes the arrow from my grip as I struggle to stay awake. “It is time to sleep,” he tells me.
“Oh, but I’ve only got four of them,” I tell him with a soft protest. “That’s not a lot of hunting.”
“We have spears and knives as well. You can learn more ways to hunt,” he says, voice low and tender as he carefully puts my bow and arrows aside. “Come and undress for bed, my mate.”
I should have protested that I wasn’t his mate, but all that comes out is a yawn. “I can sleep in my clothes.”
“Not if we are sleeping as mates,” he murmurs. “This is what you have promised to me.”
So I did. I’m too sleep-drowsy to protest, and I don’t realize just how exhausted I am until he stands me up and my legs feel like Jell-O. When Raahosh leans me against him and begins to undo the laces at the neck of my tunic, I realize he’s warm and oddly soft, despite the hard protective ridges along his arms, chest, and other parts of his body.
My hand goes to his pectorals and I rub them under his vest. “You’re soft,” I murmur. Touching him is like touching…suede or doe-hide. There’s a fine layer of fur on his skin that I didn’t notice until now, but it’s soft and oh-so-warm and I can’t stop petting him. I actually don’t mind the thought of sleeping naked against him if he feels like this.
My cootie purrs an agreement, the little whore.
“Arms up.” His voice is a soft rasp, and I sleepily raise both of them before I can stop to think. In the next moment, my tunic whisks over my head and then I’m topless in front of him. My cootie’s humming in my breast, and my nipples harden, even as I yawn again. “Pants,” he says, and he’s not grabbing at me or making me feel weird, so I obediently step out of them and hand over the clothing. I watch with sleepy eyes as he turns away and carefully folds my things,
“If you think I’m going to bone you for the privilege of hunting–”
“Not sex. Boning?” He looks at me curiously. “Not boning. Just touching. Holding each other.”
My guilty little heart twitches again. He’s lonely. God, I am such a dick. Poor Raahosh, to get stuck with the most stubborn woman ever. I soften. “I can handle that, I think.”
Raahosh gives me a silent nod, and then straightens. “We should clean the cave and prepare for the hunt tomorrow if we will be out.”
“Let’s do it,” I say, hiding my excitement. Truth is, I’m a little nervous and fluttery at the thought of sleeping in his arms tonight and letting him touch me. My mind goes back to the fierce pussy-licking from earlier and a pulse of need rocks through me. My cootie immediately starts purring so loud it sounds like a chainsaw.
Dammit, cootie. Show some restraint, girl.
We putter around the cave for the next few hours and it’s surprisingly companionable. Raahosh makes me a pair of shoes with some scraped leather hides he’s been saving for the past few days. I knew he’d treated them with a mash of innards and crap he’d used from the critters themselves, and the results were a tough leather with a bit of fur on the inside to keep my feet warm. They are little more than mittens for my feet with drawstrings at the ankles, but I’m pleased with them nevertheless. I work on my bow, and when I tell Raahosh about the kind of material I need for the bowstring, he produces something from his traveling pack that’s a lot like a thick twine. I string my bow and hope for the best, and then set about making arrows. I have to use bone for those, and the ribs and wing-bones from something unnameable that looks like an ostrich with shorter legs — four of them, mind you — ends up being perfect. I now have arrows that are a little bit shorter than I am used to, but lightweight and deadly as needles at the tip after a good sharpening. I sharpen and fletch my arrows for what feels like hours, until the fire dies down and I’m nodding off with the knife in my hand.
Raahosh takes the arrow from my grip as I struggle to stay awake. “It is time to sleep,” he tells me.
“Oh, but I’ve only got four of them,” I tell him with a soft protest. “That’s not a lot of hunting.”
“We have spears and knives as well. You can learn more ways to hunt,” he says, voice low and tender as he carefully puts my bow and arrows aside. “Come and undress for bed, my mate.”
I should have protested that I wasn’t his mate, but all that comes out is a yawn. “I can sleep in my clothes.”
“Not if we are sleeping as mates,” he murmurs. “This is what you have promised to me.”
So I did. I’m too sleep-drowsy to protest, and I don’t realize just how exhausted I am until he stands me up and my legs feel like Jell-O. When Raahosh leans me against him and begins to undo the laces at the neck of my tunic, I realize he’s warm and oddly soft, despite the hard protective ridges along his arms, chest, and other parts of his body.
My hand goes to his pectorals and I rub them under his vest. “You’re soft,” I murmur. Touching him is like touching…suede or doe-hide. There’s a fine layer of fur on his skin that I didn’t notice until now, but it’s soft and oh-so-warm and I can’t stop petting him. I actually don’t mind the thought of sleeping naked against him if he feels like this.
My cootie purrs an agreement, the little whore.
“Arms up.” His voice is a soft rasp, and I sleepily raise both of them before I can stop to think. In the next moment, my tunic whisks over my head and then I’m topless in front of him. My cootie’s humming in my breast, and my nipples harden, even as I yawn again. “Pants,” he says, and he’s not grabbing at me or making me feel weird, so I obediently step out of them and hand over the clothing. I watch with sleepy eyes as he turns away and carefully folds my things,
Similar Books
