But I cannot push too hard. I need her to lead until she is comfortable.

Her tongue grazes the seam of my mouth, and then I forget all vows to be silent. I groan, letting my thoughts flood her with how much pleasure that gave me. I can feel her startle, and then a faint burst of delight from her as her tongue meets mine. This tangling of tongues is pleasant, but with my mind connected to hers, it becomes a thousand times more erotic. I can feel how she feels, and because she is not adept at shielding her thoughts from me, I know what pleases her and what does not. I know that she likes it when my hand slides down her back and I pull her closer. And she likes it when our tongues meet and slide against one another. She’s a little frightened of my teeth, but I am careful as she playfully licks at me, and I play in return. My tongue feels different than hers—she is all smoothness—and I enjoy the texture as mine rasps against hers. Judging by her shiver of response, she does as well.

And because we’re connected in thought, we both know the moment her cunt grows wet.

Sasha gasps and pulls her mouth free of mine. “You can smell that? Smell me? On the air?”

I can, I tell her, and the rumble in my chest lets her know how much I enjoy it.

She leans in and buries her face against my neck. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Why? There is no scent I love more than that of your juices. I would lick all of them up and savor every drop.

I can feel her gasp…and the quiver that shoots through her body that tells me that my thoughts both shock and arouse her. Perhaps I am doing this wrong, then. Perhaps I should take control and give her no room to think.

Only to feel.

I cup her cheek and bring her face back to mine. I nuzzle her nose. You are my mate. I find every bit of you arousing. I would lick you from the tip of your toe to the top of your head. I would spend countless hours between your thighs, pleasuring you until you can take it no longer. When we mate, it is not about me, my Sasha—it is about what I can give you. Your pleasure becomes my pleasure because we are together in our minds. Do you understand?

She nods, her eyes wide and shiny.

I nip at her lower lip, unable to resist the tempting plumpness of it. She gives a little moan in response, and her mating scent grows thicker. I do not want you to just “endure” my touch. I want your cunt to be slick when I push inside you. I want you ready for me. I want your thoughts as heated as your blood. I kiss her with each declaration, letting my tongue play against hers. Sasha’s thoughts are focused entirely on our mouths and bodies, her pleasure overriding all of her fears.

Good. This is how I want her. This is how it should be between us.

I tangle my hand into her thick, dark hair and grab a fistful of it as I kiss her again. I want to put my mouth all over this body, I tell her, sending her a flurry of mental images that match my suggestion. My face buried between her breasts. My mouth on those tight little tips. My tongue trailing down her belly and then delving between her sweet folds.

She makes a soft little noise, and I can tell she is even more aroused at the images I send to her. I will do more than just send her my thoughts, though. I will prove it.

I rub my nose against hers and nip at her bottom lip again. Will you allow me to touch you? To do these things to you?

Her nod of agreement is shaky, but it is a nod. I am pleased. My mate is brave.

Instead of flinging her to the ground as I want to, I hold her close, sliding my hands up and down her shoulders. I remember the last time I touched her and her mating scent grew thick, it was because I caressed her. I will do so again, I think. It is as much of a pleasure for me as it is for her. I explore her delicate body with my fingers, smoothing them up and down the fragile line of her spine, the flare of her hips, the curve of her buttocks. She is different from a drakoni female. Her skin does not show a hint of scales; she is smooth everywhere, her skin tone even. Her hair is soft and curls against her shoulders, unlike my thicker, stiffer ruff. She has no horns, no claws, nothing to defend herself with. She is just soft and vulnerable everywhere. I should be dismayed by this, because it goes against everything that a drakoni female is.

In truth, I like it. Everything about her is pleasing. I lean in and rub my face against her neck, brushing my lips over her skin. Her scent is thick here, and I can feel her pulse racing through her skin. Touching her is a joy, and tasting her is even better. I trail my tongue along the cords of her neck, and when she shivers, it makes me hungry for more.

I am going to touch you, I tell her. Everywhere.

Her little tremble carries no fear, and she gazes up at me with huge eyes. Even if I don’t like it?

You will like it, I tell her. I will make it so.

A hint of a smile graces her lips. “You’re not very good at taking no for an answer, are you?”

I am not, but that is obvious to any that know me. A brief memory flashes through my mind, of sitting around a fire with friends, sharpening swords and laughing about my stubbornness. It is gone as quickly as it appears, and I kiss my mate again, focusing on her. Memories of the past are not as important as what is in my arms right now.

I continue to press light kisses to her soft skin as I lay her back on the ground. This place is hard and rough, I realize, as I set her gently on her back. I should have picked someplace better. Softer. Something like in her story, with the blanket on the ground by the water. It was only my impatience that made me pick this spot. I was not thinking of her, only of myself. Frustration flicks through my thoughts.

What is it? she asks, nervous. Your eyes are turning black.

I am upset that I did not pick a better place to woo my mate. I forget that you are not drakoni. That your skin is more fragile, your bones more delicate. I let my hand skim down her front, from her breasts to her hips. This is not a good place to mate.

She relaxes. “You’re thinking of me? That’s sweet, Dakh. I’ll be fine, I promise. Just don’t be too rough.” And that tiny flick of fear returns to her thoughts.

I would only be rough if you wished for me to be so. I lean over her smaller form and nuzzle at her throat again. I will be very careful with you. I have no greater treasure. I flick my tongue against the base of her throat. Shall I start with your cunt or your breasts?

I can feel her gasp. She is always startled by my frank thoughts. You’re asking me to pick?

Which one will give you more pleasure?

Her thoughts immediately flash to my mouth between her thighs, but the answer she gives me is different. Breasts, she tells me.