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“Wh-what is that?” I ask, smoothing some blue curls away from his forehead. I lift myself away from him, and he pouts up at me.
“My tongue,” he replies, like a recalcitrant child. “I didn’t even start—”
“It’s tingling. Is that normal?”
“Yes,” he says. “Do you dislike it?”
“No, it… feels good.” Too good, maybe, I think to myself.
He grins. “Then get back in your seat.”
I do as he says, distantly wondering how my closest friends never bothered to mention stimulating saliva on their list of Kar’Kali fun facts.
With my skin primed by that heating liquid from his tongue, the barest touch of his lips lights me up. He’s doing what I can only describe as making out with my pussy, leaving trails of sloppy kisses along my lips, opening, and the sensitive skin along the edge of my thigh. At first, I wonder what he’s up to, but then rational thoughts start to drift away because it feels so pleasant. It doesn’t have to be an assault my clit, or a means to an end, and that feels like a comfort. He simply seems interested in kissing every part of me that I’ve exposed to him with reverent, heated attention.
Soon, all of me is coated in that tingling substance, and every drag of his tongue feels like the first time. It’s soft, sensitive, and burning with possibilities.
And suddenly I want—no, need—something more.
Just when I think he has no idea what a clitoris might be, he very deliberately swirls his tongue around it. A fiery burst of pleasure starts in my belly and keeps building as he sucks at that place with slow, tender pressure. It’s no accident; he seems to know what he’s doing. I gasp when he does the same thing again, swirling and suckling with deliberate teasing that stokes the fire he’s lit inside me.
He pauses to take a breath and says, “What a sensitive pearl you have.”
“Pearl?” I rasp. “Is that what you call it? I thought you might not know about it, seeing as we’re different species.”
“Human and Kar’Kali are not so different at all, is what I’ve learned. Should I keep going?”
My hips are shamelessly impatient. I find myself subconsciously grinding against his mouth.
“D-don’t stop.”
His lips latch to my clit again, and he starts with teasing strokes that have me panting. That tongue is practiced enough to prove that he wasn’t exaggerating its power. He groans against me again. His attention leaves my clit for a moment as he licks the wet opening of my pussy. He’s lapping at it, not just teasing me but tasting it like a hungry man.
I gasp when his tongue presses inside. He sucks at the juices that are gathering on my lower lips. I squeeze his hair tightly, only hesitating when I realize that it might be uncomfortable for him.
I lift my palms, wiping them on my thighs.
“Sorry, did that hurt?”
“Pull my hair all you want,” he replies hurriedly, like replying to me is an interruption of the most important task he’s undertaken.
When he gets back to work on me, his tongue starts moving faster. With each new stroke, my breaths grow more desperate until I’m whining more than panting. Then as he sucks and swirls his tongue over my clit again, I cry out, nearly scream. With dizzying speed, the pleasure intensifies.
Like a hunter approaching injured prey, he pounces on my build. He recreates the same motions with ease, again and again. I’m so shocked by my body’s response that it takes a minute to realize I’m moaning repeatedly. As someone with a number of true out-of-body experiences under my belt, this is divinely opposite. I feel starkly aware of the physical thing that cages me. Every throbbing cell, every shivering hair, is mine.
I climax, my fingers grabbing his hair right at the root and brushing against his skull. When I look down, I see those eyes flash open as he realizes what he’s done. He looks triumphant, black eyes slitted with pleasure as my pussy trembles against his mouth. I throw my head back as the tension releases, slipping backwards to escape that flickering tongue when it becomes too much to bear.
Breathing hard, I take a moment to recuperate.
That happened too fast. I search for the clock on the wall, staring at it in disbelief as I mentally compare the ‘taps’ that passed to minutes.
“You’re looking at the time?” Mak asks, confused. “Am I keeping you from an appointment?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Viro hasn’t made it to the kennels yet,” I mutter.
Mak pouts. “I don’t want to talk about him. Come closer.”
Instead of listening, I climb off him. When my feet touch the ground, I’m forced to clutch the bed frame. My legs feel like Jell-O, and my pussy is thrumming with sensitive tingles as I move.
