Episode Eighteen Love

N adira

My heart is so full I wonder if it might explode. I'm tired and could fall asleep, yet so full of energy I could run for miles.

"Those men Up Above sure kept this a secret," I whisper, but it's not really what I want to say. "You mean I could really have a dozen of these?" I ask, but that's not what I want to say either.

Finally I scoot closer, sling my leg over his thighs so my open core hugs his hips, and gaze into his eyes.

"Azael. You are…" My eyes fill with tears. My emotions are overflowing. "You're the most amazing person either Up Above or Down Below. Do you know that? An amazing, giving, generous male. You're so patient with me."

Say it! I'm screaming at myself inside my head. What am I waiting for? What's holding me back?

Fear. Oh my gods. I'm afraid to trust him. Afraid to let him know what a hold he now has over me.

Look at him. That look on his face, as though I'm the most precious thing he's ever touched. He's not going to betray me.

"Can I trust you?" I whisper, my voice sounding so small it could be mistaken for a child's. "Will you tire of me and want to throw me away? Want to hurt me?"

He folds me in his arms so gently it breaks my heart.

"Never, Nadira. I'm the luckiest male on the planet. Why would I ever want to throw away the very best thing that ever happened to me?"

One more look into his deep-set bluer-than-blue eyes and I banish my fears.

"I love you, Azael. Shall I shout that loud enough to wake all the babes? I love you."

"I'd prefer it in a whisper, love. Just between you and me."

"I can do that." I'm sure the loving look on my face is goofy. And I'm just as certain he thinks it's beautiful.

"The shouting? Save that for when I make you come again."

"More? What about you?"

"Oh, we'll get there, pretty one. We'll get there."

I thought he meant we'd get there in a while, but he doesn't wait a second more before he attacks my body.

His kisses are divine as we explore each other lovingly. His canines are at least twice the length of mine and are sharp enough to kill prey. I learn to avoid their bite as I ply his tongue with mine.

His calloused palms rove my body, following the hills and valleys of my curves.

"You're perfect," he says, cupping my breasts in his palms.

"Let's play a game," I suggest, grabbing his wrists to stop his sexual travels, then settling myself between his thighs.

At some point, we wiggled from crosswise to right-side up in our comfy hammock, so there's plenty of room for me to crouch between his legs and enjoy the visual feast.

"What game?"

"I just made it up," I tease. "I call it this…" I run one nail sharply up the inside of his thigh from his knee to the seam where his thigh meets his torso. "Or that." I cup his furred balls so lightly it's a wonder he can feel me.

When he doesn't answer, I ask again as I repeat my actions. "This… or that, Azael?"

"I didn't realize how difficult the game was until you turned it around," he complains.

"I'll do it again. This… or that?" On my final "that" I stroke his sac, somewhere between a tickle and a caress.

"That."

"This?" I run my tongue up his furred leg on the same path my nail traveled a moment ago. "Or that?" I spread his thighs wider and lave a swath up first one ball and then the other with the flat of my tongue.

"That," he says definitively.

"You sure?" Just to be naughty, I give him the choice again as I repeat my actions.

"That. That." He snapped the last word with a hard sound to the final t. Serves him right for tormenting me earlier.

"This?" I lick one ball. "Or that?" I breathe long and deep and humid on the head of his cock.

"That!"

"I can see why you liked this game so much," I goad, then stop my game to drink in the sight of him.

This male terrified me the first time I saw him. I was hardly able to see because Armstrong had just beaten the shit out of me. Azael was nothing more than a mutant. A monster. At least that's what I'd been told.

Looking at him now, he's anything but that. He's so dear, so sweet, so loving, and frankly, he's far more handsome than any of the shitty old men I've been forced to be with.

"I love you," I blurt, then get back to work.