Chapter 13

There is no feeling in the world like falling asleep wrapped up by Jar’kel.

He may be rough, hard, and cold as a snow-covered stone, but there’s a tenderness, too, hiding deep down inside. He refuses to look at it, to share it, but I know it’s there, like a jewel waiting to be dusted off and treasured.

When I wake up, Jar’kel hasn’t loosened his hold on me. His hips are firmly pressed against mine, that lump under his pants lurking at half-mast. I can’t help wondering what he looks like down there. I tilt my head up to get a good look at him, and find him already looking back at me.

“Good morning,” I whisper, even though the sun hasn’t risen yet. The air is cold outside our cocoon of furs, so I keep every inch of myself hidden under them. I could get addicted to his warm body, even if there are a few layers of clothing between us.

He acknowledges me, but doesn’t respond. The moment I curl tighter against him, he lets out a huff and his belly tenses. I think he’s going to push me away, but instead he brings me in even closer, his leg pulling mine in between his and his chin tipping down to keep me wedged against his collar.

Nothing has ever felt so good as Jar’kel holding me this way, his chest rising and falling under my cheek. His hands roam across my body, but this time, there is no audience, no celebration, no bonfire. It’s just the two of us here underneath the blankets. His warm fingers dance over the bare skin between my tunic and my pants, and he inhales sharply.

“Fuck.” He buries his face in my hair, his tusk catching in the strands. I want to touch him all over—so I do, running my fingers up his chest, along the taut muscles of his neck, all the way to his ear. When I’ve explored the pointed tip of it, I continue down to his cheek. He stiffens when I approach his broken tusk, so I stop.

“You never told me,” I whisper. “What happened.”

“I didn’t die is what happened.”

This makes me chuckle. It’s such a Jar’kel answer. I continue to the planes of his lips, which are softer than I expected. His breath hitches, and all I want is to taste him.

“They came at dawn,” he begins, and my movement halts. “The bandits. I was working as a mercenary for a big merchant caravan. Everyone was just waking up, and the guard was changing. They came out of nowhere. Before I knew what was happening, someone was swinging an axe at my face.”

I reach out and ever-so-gently rub my hand over the blunt, broken tusk. What’s left cracked under the impact.

“It saved my life,” he says, voice quiet. “The axe would have cleaved me right through my skull. While we were occupied, the rest of the band arrived, took what they wanted, and left like they were never there. I’m just lucky they didn’t kill us all.”

When I tilt my head up, trying to think of what to say, he’s looking down at me, his face open to me, no longer hiding behind a high wall.

“I’m glad they didn’t,” I say.

Slowly, his hand rises to mine where it rests on his cheek, dwarfing it. His face tells me so many things that his words can’t. Then, in one swoop, he ducks his head down and kisses me.

I’ve been kissed before, just as a part of silly children’s games. I kissed Jar’kel, when we first agreed to our lie. But that was nothing like this.

His mouth instantly takes over, tugging me closer to him, opening my lips for his. He groans into me, and his hands slide up under my shirt, tasting me with the pads of his fingers.

Oh, his mouth. It’s utterly and completely entrancing. He uses it in a way I never could have imagined, gently teasing my lower lip, sucking it in between his and releasing it again, his tongue tracing over the surface. I can’t help a moan escaping as he plies me open, venturing even deeper, tasting me slow, sure and steady.

“You feel too good, Simka.” His voice is strained and thick. He grabs my butt, hard, and pulls me in against him.

“You do, too,” I hum in return. Now I can feel that lump under his breeches pressing into my thigh, and another moan escapes me at just the thought of it. I want to see it, right now more than ever. I want to see it, and touch it, and then perhaps, I want him to use it.

What would that feel like, to bring Jar’kel inside me the way Vavi did with Gorren? Oh. The idea of his thick cock sliding in and out of me, dripping with our wetness, makes me gasp, and Jar’kel groans against me in return. His hands travel up farther under my shirt, caressing every inch of my exposed skin, smoothing over my flesh and then squeezing it tight. When his fingers glance across the underside of my breasts, my body flexes against his, and he returns the pressure in kind, rubbing his hips against mine.

“Jar’kel,” I murmur, and his hands stop abruptly. But I don’t want him to stop, not ever. I want even more of him. “Should… should I take off my clothes?”

I think I’ve stunned him into silence. When his eyes never leave mine, all the hair on my body stands up on end with anticipation.

“Yes.” It comes out of him a strangled whisper. “Take them off.”

I fling away my shirt, then peel down my pants, and all the while Jar’kel is watching me, his gaze devouring me. When I’m finally naked in the blankets next to him, I’m tempted to cover myself, because his eyes are so intense. But I want him to see me. I want him to want me the way I want him.

He reaches out, his fingers gently landing on the dip in my collar bone at the base of my throat. From there, he trails them down to one of my breasts, following the curve of it. I’ve always wished my tits were bigger, like Vavi’s, but there isn’t a shred of disapproval on Jar’kel’s face as he studies them.

It’s a shock to my system when he brushes over my nipple. I can’t help the sound that comes out of me as it sends a tingle straight up into my throat. His other hand smooths down my belly, rounded from the winter, to the gap between my legs. As he ventures to explore my other breast, his free hand ducks down to my thighs and urges them apart.

They obey without question. This is what I’ve wanted. This is what I’ve been craving. Gently his finger slips through, to the coarse hair at the base of my pelvis. I’ve touched myself, and sated my needs on my own, but never have I felt someone else there.

Jar’kel’s eyes return to my face as his hand slips further down, tracing the inside of my thighs, teasing where he could be instead. But my body is hungry, hungry for something foreign. All I want is for him to dig deeper, to touch me where I desperately need to be touched.

His eyebrow quirks and his lip curls, like he can see exactly what I’m thinking. Then he leans down and takes my mouth in his again, right as he finally gives me what I want. One of his four thick fingers eases in between my folds, where I can sense an embarrassing moisture gathering. I clench my thighs, but he just groans with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” I take it this is a good thing. He swirls his finger around my entrance, gathering up all the liquid there, and travels up to the small pearl hidden under my hood—the place that always feels best when I rub myself in the night. He brushes over it, ever so slightly, and I moan into his mouth. It feels so good, better than good, better than my own hand could ever feel. He drags the pad of his finger across it again and again, until my moans are coming in a steady stream and my body is bucking against him.

He’s good at this. I can’t even control the noises I’m making, not this time.

Then he slides down again, and presses that finger inside me.

“Oh!” I throw my head back as it delves in, pulling me open, urging me to widen for him. It’s new and yet glorious, like it was always meant to be this way.

“Ah,” he says, nodding. “It’s good you’re a rider.”

I blink up at him. “A rider?”

“Your cunt is already open.” He slides in deeper, and I can’t hold in my moan. Cunt? What a dirty word—but it lights me up hearing it from him. “I guess I have that mule of yours to thank. Otherwise, this would hurt a lot more.”

“It definitely doesn’t hurt,” I say, and his lip curls in a smile.

His finger retreats, then slides in again, pumping in and out of me until I can feel myself dripping into his hand. Jar’kel’s eyes are intense, focused only on my face as he leaves that slick cavern behind and returns to tormenting my clit. I curl into him, clutching his arm tight in my hands as the sensation takes me over, making my whole body tremble and shudder.

“Do you like that?” he asks, leaning his forehead against mine. All I can do is nod as moans and gasps tumble out of me. He speeds up, then slows his pace, bringing me higher and higher. The tension spreads all over, winding each of my muscles tighter as he moves faster, always gentle but still throwing tinder on the fire inside me. When he returns to my channel, I’m soaking wet, and his finger glides in and out easily before he once again goes back to rubbing me.

“Jar’kel,” I manage between gasps as my hips snap against him. “That’s so good.” I’m clenching all over as a glorious sensation fills up every corner of my body. As much as I want to keep looking at him, I can’t help closing my eyes as he moves faster, and faster, applying a steady, even pressure that’s threatening to knock me over.

When I crest, it’s as if the bonfire is burning here in our very tent, consuming me. I can’t help crying out, and Jar’kel’s hand speeds up, ratcheting my pleasure higher until I’m soaring through the air and the only thing keeping me rooted to the earth is the fact I’m gripping his arm tight.

Finally, he slows his attack, and I come crashing back to the ground. As I open my eyes again, he withdraws his hand and brings it up to his lips, inhaling the scent of me. Then his tongue darts out and licks it off his finger. It’s mortifying, but his grin only spreads.

“Amazing,” I manage between gasping breaths. I take his face in my hands and pull him in for another kiss, which he returns with a crushing fervor. I touch him all over, from his chin to his shoulders, down his chest and hips, taking in every part of him I can reach. When my hands land on his waist, though, he stops me.

I look up into his eyes. “Will you take off your clothes, too?” I ask, because all I want is to see him, to feel his tough skin under my hands. I want to see what else is under there, what even greater joys he can give me.

Jar’kel’s eyes search mine, as if he expects to see doubt there. When he doesn’t find it, he nods in assent, and sits up to peel off his shirt. Underneath, he’s muscled, hardened by time. His blue skin is mottled with scars that each tell another story of his life. I want to touch each of them, to learn what they all mean.

“I’m keeping these on,” he says, cinching the laces on his pants tighter, even though his cock is eagerly begging to be let out.

I furrow my brow. “Why? I want to see you.”

He shakes his head. “No.” When he returns to the bed, he takes me by the wrists and presses me down to the furs on my back, straddling me with his hips.

I pout. “Why not?”

“Because you’re not ready yet.” He kisses down my body, pausing when he reaches my nipple to pull one into his mouth. I can’t help arching into him, and he chuckles—a sound I haven’t heard him make before.

“But I am,” I protest. “I am ready.”

Jar’kel doesn’t explain himself further as he teases my other nipple, and I’ve never felt anything as good. Instead of doing as I say, the stubborn troll, he trails his mouth down my belly, gripping my thighs to pull them apart.

“I’m going to devour you, Simka,” he says in a low, rumbling voice. “I’m going to make you scream in so many ways, for many long years. But right now I’m going to eat you until all you can say is my name.”