Steph's Outcast

I move to her side, my hand on her back. "What is it?" I ask. "Does it still hurt you?" I bend down onto the sand, running my fingers over her ankle. The healer has been working on her in small amounts so as not to exhaust herself, since several of the tribe have been injured in small ways. Steff assures me it is better every day, but I check for swelling anyhow, because I worry over her. "It seems fine."

"I just stood up too quickly," she tells me, and her cheeks grow flushed. "You don't have to stay down there."

I have learned that my mate does not like it when people fuss over her. She does not like for anyone to pay attention to her needs, and would rather focus on the needs of others. Knowing that she puts others before her makes me all the more stubborn when it comes to her, because if she will not look after herself, then her mate will.

So I ignore her entreaty and continue to examine her ankle, running my fingers over it.

"Juth," she says softly. "It's fine, really. Get up."

I glance up at her, but she is not looking at me. She is watching the others as they head down to the far end of the beach to watch some sea creature lay eggs in sand. It does not interest me in the slightest, but my mate's reluctance does. I run my fingers over her ankle again, rubbing the small, delicate bones of her foot, and as I do, she flushes pink, biting her lip.

Then I smell it. Her arousal scent. My nearness, my touches—they are making her hunger for more. I suck in a breath, startled. We have stolen touches in the last few days, but not enough. Never enough.

Now, I look over at the people leaving the camp, and I hunger for more. I hunger to take my mate, to claim her, to taste her as I have been dreaming of every night. I wake up hard and aching, full of need for her, and must let her stay at arm's length. I glance down the beach, but no one is looking in our direction.

This is my time.

"We should probably join them," Steff says in a low voice. She gestures feebly at them. "See what all the fuss is about."

I shake my head, sliding my hand up her ankle to caress her leg, then moving up to her thigh. She keeps her foot bandaged, so she has been wearing short kilts much like my own, her legs bare so the bandage can be tightened throughout the day. I love that she is so bare, because it is the perfect opportunity for me to touch her. I skim my hand up her thigh. "We will not join them. My mate needs me."

Her breath catches. "W-what? Juth?"

I slide a hand under her kilt and then the other. I cup her buttocks, tugging her closer until I can press my face to the furs hiding the vet of her thighs. I breathe in deep, because even through the layers she wears, I can smell her arousal. "You need me, do you not?"

"Juth," she whispers. "There's no privacy—"

"We will make privacy."

She glances around. "I'm not sure—"

I get to my feet, and before she can protest any more, I haul her by the buttocks into the air. She makes a low cry of surprise, her arms flying around my head and clutching my face to her teats. Perfection. Sheer perfection. I growl hungrily and stagger toward the cave, which has been emptied out by all. "I will have my mate," I tell her large, jiggling teats. "I will make her feel good. And if we do not have much privacy, then I must be quick. But I am no mate if my female's needs are not met."

"Juth," she breathes.

"And I can smell that your needs are not met, Steff. You are wet for me, are you not? You need to be touched."

She whimpers, the sound she makes when I touch her, and I know I have won. My mouth waters with anticipation, and I take a few more steps inside, until I find the furs we share. They are near the entrance, because Pak sometimes has trouble holding his bladder all night long, and I carefully set my mate down onto her back.

Her kilt flips up, a silent invitation.

With a hungry growl, I shove it up to her hips and reveal her cunt to my hungry, hungry mouth.

Steff gasps, her legs jerking in surprise. I clasp them in my grip, pushing her thighs open, and then lower my face to her. I have dreamed of putting my mouth on her like this, and the reality of it far exceeds anything I could imagine. She is so warm, her folds soft and pink and inviting. The tuft of fur over her mound holds her scent, and I bury my nose against it, drinking in her scent. My cock is hard and aching with need, and I groan. "You smell so good."