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MARGARET
Okay. This is okay.
What am I thinking? This is not okay. How did I get into this position? The last thing I remember is how hot it was and then things became a little fuzzy.
None of which adds up to me naked and where are we? Moving slowly, because I’m now sure that he’s asleep, I turn my head. There is no sky above. We’re in… something. Tent. It must be a tent. Nyanna said this would be at least a two day trip each way and that the Zmaj would bring all we would need for it.
Okay. A tent. Fine. I’m in a tent. That’s why it’s so dark, that and it must be night. But the last thing I remember it was maybe noon at the latest. Everything between then and now is a blank in my memory.
Well, not a blank. The dream is there. Remnants of it at least. That certainty that, somehow, I have Hank’s blessing to move on. I don’t think I needed it, but maybe I did. Maybe I was clinging to some vestige of what I had and that was keeping me from seeing the possibilities of the now and the future.
Such as being naked under a blanket with a Zmaj who is entirely too young for me, but there is no denying that he, uh-hum, gets my motor running. I’m wet. Wet in a place and way that hasn’t happened in so long I wasn’t sure that my body was still capable of it.
Curious, and honestly really horny, I slip one hand down between my thighs. I’m not imagining it. I’m definitely wet. I accidentally, mostly, brush my clitoris as I check myself and cannot suppress the shiver of pure, unadulterated pleasure that blasts its way up and down my spine.
Mohlad stirs behind me and I instantly regret my mistake. I’m still lost as to how I ended up here, naked, and more or less in his arms. It’s a little uncomfortable, him having seen me naked. My body shows the signs of my age. I’ve lost the padding I’d put on in my latter years after the crash, but that doesn’t mean that my body is what it was in my youth. Whose is? Except maybe Mohlad.
His abs and that delicious diving V live rent free in my head. And as soon as I see it in my thoughts that so familiar coiling tightness happens down low and a gentle spasm rocks my pussy. At the same time, I realize that I’m incredibly thirsty. Probably shouldn’t be surprising because one part of my body is trying to lay claim to all the moisture I have, but still it’s really bad. I don’t want to move because the longer I lie here and the more awake slash aware I become, the more sensations soak into my thoughts. The awareness of him, naked, pressing hard against me. How cool he is. The feel of his hard muscles against my back. And, let’s not ever forget, the feel of something else that is pressing not only against my ass but onto the back of my thighs.
How fucking big is his cock?
I know he has a cock and I know that a Zmaj cock is compatible with my own lady bits. If that wasn’t the case then there clearly wouldn’t be the hybrid baby. Or all the human women who have mated with Zmaj. All of whom seem to be very happy too. Even the ones who’ve been together since before they showed up with us.
I try to lie still and enjoy the moment but the thirst is growing. My tongue feels like sandpaper when I move it around my mouth and my throat itches something fierce. I try to clear it because it feels as if something is stuck halfway down the pipe. The moment I give a soft cough Mohlad sits upright. He instantly leans over the top of me and our eyes meet. My cheeks flush with a rush of blood both from looking into his gorgeous eyes and from embarrassment.
“Awake,” he says, speaking softly. He presses his palm to my forehead and then to my cheek and nods. “Cool. Good. Water?”
“Ple—ase,” I say and my voice cracks oddly in the middle because I’m so parched.
He slides out from under the blanket, moving around on his knees. A moment later he is leaning over again with a waterskin in his hands. But my attention is on the shadow that swings between his legs.
Oh… my.
He places the mouth of the skin onto my lips and I accept the water gratefully. It soothes the parchedness of my tongue and throat. This might be the sweetest water I have ever tasted in all my life. I gulp it down greedily but he pulls the skin away.
“Slow,” he admonishes, patting his stomach with one hand.
Which of course pulls my attention down. And down. Where that shadow continues to swing delightfully except now it’s not only swinging. It’s rising.
Oh my indeed.
He cups one hand behind my head and assists me to a sitting position. The blanket falls onto my lap as I rise, exposing my bare breasts that gently flop with the sag of age. Which makes my skin flush once again. The thing I’ve hated most about getting older is the sag that hit my breasts. I used to be so proud of them. They were larger but still pert. I could get away without wearing a bra clear into my forties, but those days are gone.
His eyes drop and he makes a low grumbling sound that I’m not sure how to interpret. Is it a growl? If it is, is that a sound of pleasure or contempt?
I grab the blanket and pull it back up, hooking it into the pits of my arms to keep it in place. He quickly turns his head to the side.
“Apologize,” he says.
There is no ignoring what is between us now. His cock has risen to full attention, pointing directly at me.
“Apology? Why?” I ask, forcing myself to look away from his rock hard member.
“Forward, too,” he says, shaking his head. “Not…” he trails off and it’s clear he’s searching for the right word to use. He says something in his own language, then snorts and shakes his head again as he shrugs. His eyes dart towards me then he turns his head again. “Sorry.”
I chew my lip trying to decide what I should do. I know what I want, but is what I want the right thing to do?
Open your heart Marg…
