First Forest - Viola Grace Page 0,12
he grinned. He was a lot less formal than she had always imagined. She gasped as his fingers slid deep. A lot less formal.
Abiha was dazed and whispering for more when he lifted her, parted the robes still around his waist to free his erection, and slid into her. He pulled her down over him and cuddled her against him.
Her breath had whooshed out of her lungs when he slid into her, but she was more than ready, and there was only a feeling of tight fullness when she was flat against him. She lost her grip on his horns.
She gasped and curled against him while she got used to the feeling. He stroked her back.
Eventually, in what seemed like forever, she relaxed and let her hand creep up on his shoulders. She lifted herself slightly and flexed her hips.
He let out a low groan and lifted her up with his hands, slowly lowering her on him, she gasped and moaned small cries that brought a blush to her cheeks.
The wet sounds coming from their impact were terrifyingly lewd, and the world went blurry around her where the slick friction took over her thoughts, and she focused on the drive toward release.
He wove his hand through her hair and pulled her head back, licking at her neck and jaw before swooping in to kiss her, and he tilted her forward, driving into her as she shrieked and clung to him as her senses broke apart.
Soft, feathery kisses were raining down on her temples, forehead, and lips.
She opened her eyes and focused gradually. He kissed her softly on the mouth and smiled. “You’re back.”
She blushed. “Um. Sorry?”
He laughed and held her against him. “I apologize. I have been stressing you. My eagerness to finally have you with me has led me to be overly enthusiastic and less than careful with you.”
Abiha cleared her throat. “I would say that it’s fine, but why am I covered in flower petals?”
He sighed and cuddled her against him. “When you fainted, I panicked. When I panic, I take action. These petals heal humans, so I brought as many of them to you as I could. You took in two-thirds of them.”
There was a thick layer of the flowers on her, and if she had absorbed two-thirds, it made her slightly uneasy. “What happened... exactly?”
He kissed her temple. “I am making you into something like me, but I tried to rush the process. It strained you. I will be more careful in the future.”
She blinked and took in the scent of the flowers that was now wafting toward her; she felt sleepy again. “What do you mean... like you?”
She nodded off, but he was stroking her face and supporting her. She knew he was going to be there when she woke up.
Chapter Six
The robe she was wearing was not the one she had been wearing earlier. She was sleeping on her side, and there were no flower petals.
Kiloh entered the room, and he had a tray with a tea set and some rice balls on it. He smiled. “Good, you are awake. Did you get some rest?”
Abiha nodded. “I think so. How long was I out?”
Her robe was closed with the wide sash, and it was even snugly knotted in back. “When did I get dressed?”
He poured two small cups of tea, and she got up and walked over, kneeling and taking the one that he offered.
“You got dressed before the village physician came to check on you. I needed confirmation that you were still doing well. I haven’t actually done this before.”
She spluttered her tea. “Really? You seem to have it down.”
He grinned. “I have been observing your people for centuries. I was referring to the act of making a mate.”
“I still don’t understand about that.” She frowned. “I don’t feel any different.”
“You won’t. Not for a while.” He sat with one leg bent and his elbow resting on it. “So, I suppose I should begin at the beginning.”
“When the colonists arrived? Yes. You met them and helped them to set up the village; then, as they began to pursue development, you built the walls to keep them out and the forest in.”
“Correct, but what was never stated in the histories is that I was unformed when I first met the colonists.”
She blinked. “Yes, it was. In Corring’s History of Athon. You were described as a roiling green fog who asked for images from their culture so that you could choose a form.”
He chuckled. “And