31. Kuret

31

Kuret

Rin is gazing at me tenderly, but I am too distracted by the questions roaming through my head.

"I-I don't understand," I stutter and her gaze turns thoughtful.

I am extremely uncomfortable with this whole conversation but it's beginning to feel like it's not one that we can put off having any longer.

Taking a few steps away from me, she bends to pick up the discarded blade of grass. "Ideally, human women have children between these years—" She points out about a quarter of it and looks up at me to make sure I am watching.

I can tell she's doing her best to simplify the situation, but I am inexperienced in these matters.

Her gaze is averted quickly, and she lowers her fingers until they are at about half of the blade. "—and these years. After that, our childbearing years are over."

I don't tear my gaze away from the blade of grass because I am sure that she will see the sadness and pity I feel for her and the women of her race. My stomach tightens as I think of it. To be subjected to giving up such a large chunk of their lives to have children…

"It does not feel fair to give all of your life like that."

I too wouldn't want to be kept cooped up with others if my lifespan were that short. I feel bad now about having pushed the idea onto her with such consistency throughout our journey.

She shakes her head. "We don't all start having children at the same age. Some do earlier and some later. Eventually, the kids grow up and we get our lives back."

It annoys me how often I am disoriented by Nasrin's words, but she is always eager to explain, which helps take away the sting of ignorance. "Are human women capable of resurrecting from the dead?"

"What? No. What I am saying is childbirth doesn't kill us."

My jaw drops open, and then my mouth speaks before my mind stops it. "Does this mean that if you take my seed, you won't die?"

"I won't even get pregnant. There's a block in me against it."

We linger for a moment as the full weight of her words settles around us, both of us ignoring the steadily increasing wind as we stare at each other.

No longer running away from what's between us, but we are not bridging the gap.

There's no reason for me not to touch her now, but I can't seem to make myself move, my hearts hammering as the wind whips my braids.

I don't know how to pleasure a woman, and very few males have discussed it in depth, mostly just telling stories. Considering the act leads to a female's death, it isn't really something to celebrate.

No, that's thinking from a different life.

It's hard to believe coming here could bring any sort of blessing with it, but there she is. Standing right in front of me, just as beautiful as always, looking as scared as I am.

If she dares to face something unknown, then I can't continue to insult her by keeping myself away.

I'm taking a stride forward and pulling her close to me without conscious thought.

Once again my hands seek her waist, desperate to feel her softness again, this time letting them roam to her front and the lovely swell of her stomach, groaning when it's too much to fit in one hand, excited to know how it will feel to have my throbbing member pressed against it.

For now, I keep myself contained, afraid I will do something to embarrass myself.

Instead, I keep my hands moving, carefully watching her face to see if she doesn't like it. Her eyes are hooded and she moans, making me throb even harder.

I reach around her, pulling her close, no longer willing to wait to have her crushed up against me, grinding my hips forward into the softness of her chest as I reach behind her, quickly finding an even better hand hold on that delectable rear that has taunted me each time she walked by.

Jiggling and asking to be grabbed.

I squeeze each large globe, a groan rising, then I use my grip on them to lift her, and move my mouth to her own, just like she offered before and I was too hard-headed to accept at the time.

Not knowing what I know now.

Her lips are soft against me. Much smaller, just like the rest of her, but just as fervent in their movement against mine as my own.

When her tongue darts out to run against my lower lip, it surprises me, but then it sends a blazing surge of arousal and I want her to feel the same.

When I open my mouth, her tongue seeks entry, but I push back, not wanting her to get cut on my teeth, but enjoying the way her slightly rough tongue feels against the slickness of my own.

With gentle pressure, I invade her mouth as she tried mine, instantly understanding the appeal as the sweet taste intensifies and the hot opening makes me grind against where she has her legs wrapped around my waist.

Pleased to note how hot she is between her legs, I pull her higher so I can feel her against my stomach, her moist heat making my hips buck.

I accidentally graze my tongue on one of her teeth, freezing for a moment before I remember they are dull, then move a hand up from her soft backside up to the base of her head, using her long, thick hair to tilt her head back.

Then I explore her mouth, enjoying the vibrations of her moans against my tongue for a long moment before I lower myself to one knee, then the other, before tipping her down onto the grass.

I'm momentarily distracted by Roshan making a bleating sound and moving away from us and into the trees. Good.

I need to find out how she feels in other places. I take a long look at her face, pleased to see how swollen her lips are now, her eyes unfocused. When she tilts her neck to the side, I take it as an invitation, lowering my mouth to it, pressing my lips to it in different ways and taking careful note of which ones make her moan the loudest.

When I flick out my tongue, she writhes under me and it feels better than any kill I've ever made.

I need more.

Her hands are in my braids now, pushing my head lower as the black fabric disappears from her body.

She guides me to the large, soft swelling on her chest. I soak in the sight of her brown skin, and the much darker center of each before she pulls harder, guiding my mouth right to one of them.

A clicking laugh escapes and she huffs out at me in impatience, so I don't keep her waiting.

Remembering what she liked on her neck, I flick out my tongue and am rewarded with a high-pitched gasp I've never heard her make.

I keep going, growing drunk off the sound, but pull away. She growls at me, and I break into a grin.

"I love your softness, Nasrin," I tell her, and then give her other soft mound the same treatment, a hand reaching up to squeeze the other one.

Her hips twitch with each darting touch of my tongue, and I know where I am headed next.

I work my way down her stomach, pressing my lips into her, delighting in the feel of her under me, excited as I get close to the wet heat I felt against my stomach.

I push open her legs while I look closely at her face for any sign that she doesn't like this. All she does is pant, her eyes unfocused as she looks down at me, and I stop worrying about it.

She's more than willing to tell me to stop when she doesn't like something.

I take a moment to study her, appreciating the triangle of short white hair that points out where to go. Just like her mouth, her skin is pink and wet, just as inviting.

I lower my mouth to it, licking her, pleased when she makes another of her high cries of pleasure. She's just as sweet down here, though the flavor is more complex. Her wetness grows with each flick of my tongue.

No wonder the other males never fully shared what this was like. They probably spent the rest of their lives longing for it again.