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Barbarian's Tease: A SciFi Alien Romance (Ice Planet Barbarians Book 16) by Ruby Dixon (23)

23

BROOKE

I’m so startled that I don’t even kiss him back. He’s…kissing me? But I thought he was shocked that I’d touched him. I thought he didn’t want anything to do with me. “What,” I murmur as his lips slick against mine and his hand goes to my waist. “Taushen…”

“You said,” he murmurs between kisses, “‘I wish to be friends, Taushen. It was not me that craved your touch that night.’” Over and over, his mouth dips over mine, until it’s hard to concentrate on what he’s saying. “You said that you wanted no mate. You said

I grab him by his ears and hold his face an inch away from mine, breathless. I need a moment to think. “I also said ‘Pull my hair, you dirty freak’. I say a lot of things.”

As if I’m telling him to do that right now, he slides a hand into my hair and grabs a loose fistful and…I don’t hate it. I swallow back a whimper of delight. It’s like his big hand in my hair just emphasizes how strong he is, how brutal, and yet he’s so utterly gentle with me. It’s the contrast between the two that makes me insane with lust.

“If you say so many things, then tell me you wish to be my mate,” he demands, leaning in and brushing his lips over mine once more.

“I want to be your mate,” I tell him, grabbing a handful of his long hair and twisting it around my fingers. “Mine and only mine. No looking at other women. Not Tiffany, not any of the new chicks. Eyes firmly on me. I’m possessive like that.”

He presses a light kiss to the tip of my nose, and I nearly melt into goo at the sweetness of that little gesture. “I have not looked at another female since you touched me.”

Really?”

“Really.” He kisses lightly across my brows.

“Then what was all that, ‘Oh, my perfect woman is brown-haired and brown-skinned and blah blah blah

“Because if I said my perfect female has pink hair and pink-tipped teats, that would tell you that I wished to be more than friends, would it not? And I was doing my best to be a friend.” He chuckles, his warm breath fanning across my face. “It was very hard. I have stroked my cock many nights in agony.”

“You have? Why didn’t I see this?” Damn, I would have watched that for years.

“You were too busy snoring—” At my indignant squeal, he breaks off into laughter. “I have lived in a village full of others all my life. I share a hut with many other males. You think I cannot stroke my cock quietly? I have become an expert at using my palm in silence.”

“That is a terrible thing to tell a chick when you’re making out with her,” I say to him, letting my fingers tickle up and down his side. He’s smiling at me, so big and happy and carefree, and his words are so teasing…I’m just utterly fascinated. I think of what Harlow said before, how happy Taushen used to be. Is this the man he’s supposed to be? Teasing and full of joy?

If so, I completely approve.

“Is there a different way to tell a female you have stroked your cock? Is there a game I do not know? Perhaps more I Spy?” His eyes gleam with enthusiasm, and he pulls at the laces of my tunic. “I spy with my blue eye…something that is about to come off of my female.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “Is it…the blanket?”

“No. Guess again.” He tugs the laces free and then makes a noise of frustration when he realizes it won’t actually remove my tunic. “How does this come off?”

“Over my head. Want me to do it?”

“Let me.” His eyes gleam with excitement. “I wish to undress my mate and lay her down into my furs.”

They’re my furs, but I’m not going to spoil his fun on a technicality. “All right.” I sit up, and when he pulls on the hem of my tunic, I obediently raise my arms so he can take my tunic off. The moment it whisks over my hair, I’m completely and utterly naked in front of him. I’m practically quivering, imagining his reaction. Is he going to stare at my boobs? Touch me? What?

Instead, he gazes into my eyes and touches my cheek. I think he’s trying to caress me, but when I close my eyes, he taps my chin. “Look at me.”

“What is it?” I give him a curious look.

“This is you asking for this? This is not…a bad drink? It is my Brooke, and her thoughts are clear?”

The fuck? Is he asking if I got drunk to sleep with him? I start to get angry that he would even ask such a thing, but I pause and bite the words back. Even if it’s a little bit offensive, I can understand where he’s coming from. After last time, I don’t blame him for asking.

And there is so much hope and wariness in his expression, as if he’s afraid that it’s all just a trick or a dream and the rug’s going to be pulled out from under him once more. My heart aches for him. He wants this—wants me—so bad. It’s humbling and flattering at the same time.

For a second, I feel like the most powerful woman ever. I hold this gorgeous, fierce, strong man in the palm of my hand. It’s a heady gift, and one I intend to cherish.

“This is your Brooke,” I tell him softly. “No roofies, no Spanish fly, no drugs, no alcohol. Just me, happy that I finally get to touch you like I’ve been dreaming about for days.” And I put my hand on his chest, over the hard plating that covers his heart.

“Bah. Days? It has been days?”

“Several.” I give him an impish grin.

He makes an irritated sound in his throat even as he tenderly covers my hand with his. “To think of all the times I could have touched you instead of using my hand…you make a hunter weep, Brooke.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” I tell him flirtily. “Should we play more I Spy? I spy something that should come off of my mate.”

“Your mate?” His grin is huge and proud.

“Yep, all mine. No takebacks.” I smile at him, loving his happiness. Is it possible for a big blue hunk of delicious man to be a ray of sunshine? I feel like he’s turning into one, and I adore it.

“Very well.” He glances down, checking his body, but he’s only wearing one thing—a very small loincloth that looks like it’s not big enough to hold all the drama behind it. “This?”

“That,” I agree with satisfaction. “It needs to come off.”

I’ve never seen a man undress so fast. The laces fly through the air, and then the loincloth is flung across the room, and Taushen’s kneeling in front of me in all his blue glory. After weeks of carefully trying not to get naked around each other, seeing all this bare skin feels utterly decadent, and I sit up, unable to stop from putting my hands on him to explore.

“I get to touch you, right?” I whisper.

“As long as I get to touch you.”

“Of course.” I flex my fingers, looking him up and down. There is so much to look at, too. Acres and acres of blue muscles covered by the softest, fuzziest skin. Tight, thick thighs and an equally tight bubble of a butt. A dick that goes on for days.

Spur.

Tail.

This is a damn horndog buffet, and I intend on going back for seconds. “Mmm. Shall I go first, or should we do it at the same time?”

“We can touch at the same time,” he murmurs, and I feel something flutter up the back of my thigh, then graze my butt cheek. His tail.

Oh, that is so cheating. Naughty, naughty, filthy man. I can’t help the little moan that escapes me. Of course, now he’s ahead of me in the touching, so I plant both my hands on his chest and contemplate where to go first. Appetizers? Main course? Head straight for dessert?

Go slow, I think. Pace yourself. Enjoy.

I put my hand on one bicep and squeeze. It’s rock hard, and I can’t put my hand around it. Hell, I can’t even circle it with both hands, and the thought just makes me all fascinated and aroused. How is it that I’ve been around this man for weeks and I’ve never realized how big his guns are? Or that touching him feels like touching the softest velvet ever? I sigh happily. “I don’t know where to touch first.”

“It does not matter to me,” he says, and then drags me against his chest so he can nibble on my neck. All the while, his tail continues to flick against my thigh and bottom, almost as if he’s petting me.

Doesn’t matter where I touch him, hmm? That sounds like a challenge if I ever heard one. I let my hands wander down his chest, stroking over his nipples, and I’m disappointed when I don’t get a huge response. Maybe those aren’t sensitive like mine are. I rub up against him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. Does his skin feel as incredible against my nipples as it does under my fingers?

Oh god, yes it does.

I moan, moving back and forth to drag my nipples against his chest. It might possibly be the best thing I’ve ever felt. He pulls me closer, his hands roaming up and down my back. “Brooke. My Brooke. This feels like a dream.”

“It’s real,” I tell him, feeling a surge of absurd happiness. “What we have is real, I promise.” I move my hands down to his shaft, caressing him. I didn’t imagine those ridges, then, or just how big his spur is. It seems strange to have such a piece of anatomy, but when I lightly run my fingers over it and feel his shiver of response, I remember how good it felt sliding through the slick folds of my pussy.

Weird or not, I can’t wait to experience it again.

He nips at my throat once more and then lifts his head, giving me a heated look. “We did not finish our game.”

“We didn’t?”

Taushen shakes his head. “I spy with my blue eye…” His big hand smooths down my shoulder, across my collarbones, and then moves to cup one of my breasts. “Something pink that is about to go into my mouth.”

“Hope it isn’t my hair,” I tell him, breathless.

He just gives me a playful look—oh god, he’s so playful, and that’s so damn sexy—and then puts both of his hands behind my back. I’m about to protest that I want my pink things in his mouth when he leans in to kiss me, and I can feel him gently guiding me down onto my back in the furs.

I lie back, arching as I do, because I know it thrusts my breasts into the air. I’m shameless like that; I want him to pet them. I want his mouth nipping at them, his lips on my skin. “What do you spy now?”

“My mate,” he says thickly, and oh god, that makes me so wet.

I moan, reaching for him. “How are you so sweet and so filthy at the same time?”

“I am not filthy,” he murmurs, and lowers his head between my breasts. His horns are practically in my face, but I don’t care. I just want his mouth on my nipples. “My mate washed me, remember?”

“All I remember is washing you and being frustrated that you didn’t pounce on me the moment I put my hands on you.” His mouth closes over one nipple, and I gasp, whimpering at the delicious sensation.

“Clever,” he murmurs. “I did not realize.”

“That much was obvious.”

He mock-growls at my tone and cups my breast in one hand, his mouth descending back down on the other. “It does not matter. You have me now.”

I sure do. I love it, too. I love the way his big body feels over mine, the way his teeth oh-so-gently scrape over my nipple, the way he teases my other breast with his thumb. It makes me positively crazy, and I want him to stay there forever.

But then he lifts his head and gives me a playful, heavy-lidded look that promises so many naughty things. “I spy with my blue eye something I should put my mouth on.”

And then he begins to kiss lower on my belly.

Screw the boobs. Did I want him to stay there? I want him to go south. A big, sexy man willing to do oral is like a unicorn in my experience, and if he’s willing, I’m going to take him up on the offer.

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