Authors: Marla Therron
The hike was pleasant. The sky was bright and cloudless, the temperature just cool enough not to sweat during their march. At the foot of the same cliff the waterfall tumbled from, Garr removed pitons and climbing gear from the bag.
He touched her clothes, interfacing with them as he had the other night—and the rugged pants and shirt she wore added a climbing harness to her body. The snugness of the fit reminded of how the otoya had locked her hips to Garr’s in the kitchen, causing her cheeks to flame.
He checked the fit of her harness, and leaned down to whisper: “I don’t know what Tivo is, but I can keep you entertained.”
Fuming, she dusted her hands on a chalk pouch he’d attached at her hip.
Garr kept her tethered to him and typically lead the way, choosing a route Rae could follow. The cliff had an abundance of handholds, and while Rae had never been the most athletic person, she had the lower body strength to work her way up.
There were fortunately no overhangs in their path, and she found rest points to give her arms a break.
It was still an exhausting climb, more endurance than raw strength. Garr scaled at a sufficiently slow pace that he was always nearby.
Their target was a ledge midway up the cliff, one that formed a walking path that wrapped around the cliff and tucked behind the falls. The closer she got, the more often she felt Kaython’s electric touch.
Easy, you pushy bitch,
she thought, addressing the message at the domé.
I got your point the first six times. Stop at the ledge. Yeesh.
The electric sensation jolted up her spine—Kaython petulantly sticking her tongue out, perhaps.
About twenty feet shy of the ledge, Rae ran low on handholds and steam at the same time. Her forearms burned and the grip strength in her fingers had faded. Garr noticed right away and swung from his position, dropping down beside her by releasing the rock wall and catching hold of it every five feet or so. It was more a controlled fall than a climb, and he landed right beside her.
She expected him to attach another rope to her belt, scale back up, and hoist her to the ledge like the weak human she was hopelessly proving herself to be. Instead, he swung behind her, arms on both sides of her. The sudden movement shocked her.
His otoya transformed, and he launched strands into pitons he’d planted in the wall above them, and to either side of her. They created two anchors that “V”ed out from his body, molding into his harness so that, with his hands planted, he could lean back into a sitting position behind her.
Still clinging to the rock face, Rae craned her head over her shoulder. Seeing him in that relaxed position, as though on an easy chair suspended over a hundred-forty feet of nothing, he set both hands on her hips. “Lean into me.”
Rae’s belly turned over twice. Lean back from the safe rock wall into his lap? Sure, she was attached with a line, and he was anchored twice over. But it took a lot of trust.
She consulted her burning arms, which nearly shook from the exertion of holding on. Taking a deep breath, she released the handholds, and though she only dropped back two inches before his hands caught her, she still yelped in terror.
Garr eased her into his lap, and she sat in the cradle of his body, only realizing with her arms were at rest how spent they were. She exhaled, rubbing at her wrists.
“You planning to carry me?” she muttered, embarrassed. Climbing was something she could actually do, and not reaching the ledge on her own bothered her.
“You’ll do it once you’ve rested.” His hands were free because of how he was tethered, and one held onto her waist. It was a secure feeling.
She eased into him, his body a natural cup for her own. “Just so you know, I’m still mad at you.”
He brushed a lock of her wavy hair from her face, behind her ear, and kissed the sweltering skin of her neck. But the brisk wind cooled her, so that soon she was comfortable with his heat so close.
She could also feel him becoming aroused, since she was seated firmly against him. He was stiffening and, in spite of it being him, it embarrassed
her
. “I told you before. I like your anger. I like your passion.”
She realized they’d been in this position before. Every time Garr grabbed hold of her—in the pool, on the precipice that night he first slept against her, and even now—he always slipped behind her.
And it’s from behind that they take their mates.
That was why he liked holding her like this. It was so close to having her in that position on all fours that made her belong to him forever. Probably why, he was getting hard, too.
The fact that just being there on his lap was driving him mad gave Rae a thrill of power. “What are you thinking?” she asked, though she already knew.
“What do you mean?”
A shiver worked up her spine at his words, so close to her ear and so low she could feel the vibrations of his deep voice in his chest. His voice did it for her every time.
“You’re imagining me on all fours, aren’t you?” She realized that bizarre fusion of anger and arousal had only intensified since earlier in the day. She liked torturing him up here in the sky, where he couldn’t do anything about it
He kissed her shoulder and tasted the salt on her body. “Just taking you from behind wouldn’t count.”
“Figured,” she said, shifting, knowing it applied pressure to his hardening cock.
His body stiffened and she knew she’d done it right.
“What you really want,” she teased, “is to have me beneath you. Not on top, but bent for you—putting myself on display and inviting you to enjoy me all at once.” She accented the final word with a purposeful roll of her hips that would more brazenly stimulate him.
He groaned, as though finally understanding her game. “You’re a devil.”
“Do you hate me?” she asked, rolling her hips a second time, undulating in a way that made her feel his full, thick length through their pants.
“I—I couldn’t hate you, it—”
She settled more weight into her shoulders so that, with her core strength, she could control how much pressure and friction she gave his hard-on. “Not even a little?” she cooed, the roll and flick of her hips tormenting him. Remembering how sensitive his markings were, and that he had tiny circles under his ears, she arched her back at a sufficient degree that she could strain and slip her head to the side of his. She could just barely kiss that dark circle below his ear.
His growl was arousal and frustration distilled into one feral sound, and both his paws clamped to her hips to take possession of her movements. “Oh
yes
. I hate you now. Happy?”
“Thoroughly.” She settled into him, relaxing now that she’d made him feel even a piece of what she did.
But his hands tightened their grip. “I’m not done with you.”
She laughed. “Look at where we are, big guy.” She gestured all around. “We’re done.”
His cavalier chuckle made her stomach tighten—and his hands tapping her otoya made her heart leap. Her pants turned liquid, and so did his—she’d forgotten about that.
Just like that, the fabric parted, so that she no longer wore pants but something more akin to tight, thigh-high stockings. And his merely parted, so that when his hands slid around, between her thighs, he took hold of his erection and slid it from behind, between her thighs, letting it brush her slick core.
“Oh.” She felt him between her thighs, having not realized how wet and ready she’d become while teasing him. Every stroke brushed the soft, mushroomed head against her clitoris, making her tense up. “Garr, isn’t this dangerous?”
“Arousing your mate on a cliff is dangerous,” he said, the gentle pump of his hips teasing her folds. He’d get her off if he kept it up much longer.
Instead, he eased off the gyrations and slid powerful hands down to her hips, her thighs, massaging her weak legs and teasing his fingers near her sex, but not yet touching her. “You’re still angry at me?”
“
Yes.
” She groaned, the sleek motion of his shaft sorely missed. She was trying to figure out how to get it back.
“You’re angry because your body knows what your heart hasn’t learned yet,” he taunted.
She tried to reach for his erection, knowing if she got hold of him, she could settle atop him—maybe even push him into her. “And what is it my body knows?”
His powerful arm gripped her wrist, not letting her take hold of him. “That you’re going to stay.” With his other hand, he stroked between her thighs, using one long and electrifying touch to brush her clitoris.
She sucked in a breath, rigid and squeezing her eyes shut. “Smug, arrogant
bastard
.”
But he was stroking her now, making those brisk, circular motions she’d witnessed through his whisking the night before—a relentless attack on the center of her pleasure that had her hips jerking up into his fingers. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but couldn’t speak.
She opened her mouth to tell him off, but instead felt his experienced hands bring her aroused body off, and the tirade transformed in her throat into moans.
They echoed off the cliff walls. She came in his arms, shuddering while his fingers changed pace into long, languid strokes that extended her orgasm until she trembled atop him.
“Still mad?”
“Furious,” she panted, body flush and nipples hard, scraping on that confining bra with every up-and-down of her ribcage.
“Admit you want me, and I’ll touch you again.”
She should have been satisfied, but she wasn’t. She didn’t want just his fingers. She wanted to lick, kiss, and tongue with him—to feel his teeth scrape her, to mount him and ride him into a state of bliss, and to feel his riotous pulse through their joined bodies.
But two can play this game.
“How about I’ll just touch
you
for a change.” She dragged a fingernail up the markings on his wrist, along his forearm, and to the dark circle at the inner crook of his elbow.
“
Taliyar
,” he moaned. He was still rock-hard and in a state of total arousal. Her touch had drawn out a raw ache so deep that his need was more than physical—when he’d spoken that word, it had been a spiritual call.
“You want me to be yours?” she asked softly. “You want me to present to you, to give you myself totally?”
“Yes,” he pleaded.
In her present state, the idea sounded almost delicious. She’d never done that sexual position before, but with Garr, she wanted it; and the fact that giving it to him would bind them forever only added to the eroticism.
Yet she knew it wouldn’t happen unless he also surrendered on one critical thing: “Then admit you belong to me, too,” she whispered, stroking the circle at his inner elbow once more, shifting to peer up at his reaction.
His eyes flew wide. “What?” The shock hadn’t diminished his panting arousal, nor his erection. “I’m your prime, I—”
She dared to close her thighs around his erection, socketing it against her slit, so that when she moved her hips, it stroked his full length. The pleasure cut him off, choked away his voice, and she remembered how the dark ley lines of his body also include markings on his cock.
Waiting for his eyes to open, she met his gaze from over her shoulder. “You may be prime, but if you want to own my body, I want to own yours too. That’s how it works with humans.”
Was she really offering herself to him? Agreeing to stay if he’d only love her like a human?
His chest rose and fell, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Rae reached down between her thighs and circled the dark ring around the head of his erection with her light touch. “Belonging to one another isn’t so bad if you just—”
He seized her wrist, aghast.
Had she done something wrong? Glancing at his hand, which dragged hers from touching him, she assessed his arousal. He was still hard, still hungry. But he hadn’t been prepared for that simple touch. “What’s wrong?”
“You—you cannot just touch a male like that.”
She guffawed. “Why not? You’re touching me like that.” She wanted to respect his wishes, of course, but it seemed absurd.
“It’s… females don’t
do
this. It’s forbidden.”
Rae blinked, having not realized how their society’s gender segregation extended to sex. The “men care for women” role mattered even in the bedroom.
He could pleasure her, or take pleasure from taking charge of her body, but for her to be on top and give pleasure to him caused him to react like a frightened Victorian.
“So,” she teased, upset and amused and maybe a little vindictive all at once, “You finger me, but my fingers are blasphemy?” She wriggled her evil fingers at him.
He swallowed. It was strange for him to be so clearly intimidated by something as simple as the touch of a feminine hand to his clearly-tuned-up body.
Rae sighed. She was still ready-and-eager, and his reasons were stupid ones, but his discomfort was real. Mutually enjoyable hate-sex was one thing, but she’d upset him. Shutting her eyes, she said, “We should keep climbing.”