Mari's Mistake - Ruby Dixon Page 0,58

bury my face in the heat of your cunt if you let me." One big gloved hand cups my breast, flicking at my nipple even as the other trails down to my thigh. I tremble with aching need as his hand glides along the inside of my thigh. Yes, I think. Oh yes. This is good. I want this. I haven't wanted anything so badly in ages.

"T'chai," I whimper.

"I am going to touch your cunt, my Mari," he whispers in my ear.

I nod, frantic. I want that. God, how I want that.

He puts his glove on my pussy and parts my folds…and then I feel it.

I'm still dry. His glove rasps against my skin, sticking instead of gliding because I'm not wet with arousal.

I let out a whimper of sheer frustration and try to push his hand away. "It's not working—"

"Shhh," he comforts me, his arm locking around my waist in a hug. He pushes his face against my hair and his other hand cups my pussy, as if holding it can somehow wake it up. "Do not be upset, Mari."

"How can I not be upset?" Angry tears threaten behind my eyes, pricking.

"Because it felt good, did it not? You liked my words, yes? You liked my touches?" When I nod, he presses a kiss in my hair. "That is progress, then. We will take it in small steps if we must. If I cannot make you come, then let me hold you."

With a little sigh, I relax against him, frustrated. "I just…want things to be better."

He chuckles, and I love the fan of his breath against my hair, my skin. "It is not a bad thing to want. But do not let it pull you away from finding the good. I like touching you. I do not care if I must wear gloves. If it makes you feel good, then I will gladly do so."

"But I wanted more." I realize how petulant I sound, but I can't seem to help myself. I'm just so…disappointed. I let myself hope again, and it feels like the rug has been pulled out from under me once more.

"Do you have more of the herbs that F'rli gave you?"

"Ugh. No." I shake my head, blanching at the memory of the bitter taste. "They didn't work, either. Maybe my pussy will never get wet again."

He makes a sound of sympathy in my hair, his hand stroking my breast again and teasing at my nipple. My body still responds, sending an aching surge through me, and I whimper with frustration.

"If your cunt is not wet, what if I am?" T'chai asks.

"What do you mean?"

"What if I wet my glove? And then I rub you?" He presses another kiss in my hair. "Would that make you uncomfortable?"

Lube.

Of course. Dios mio, I'm such an idiot. There's got to be something we can use for lube around here. Lube is such a smart answer—it's made for situations like this. Don't older women have issues with dryness and have to use stuff like that? I've never had a problem getting aroused in the past, but maybe that's been working against me. I've assumed my body will always respond the way it has, instead of working with what I've got. I head for the little jars I have neatly arranged on a low driftwood shelf in the corner. Nadine gave me some lotion for dry skin the other day…I pull the little pot out with triumph. It doesn't have any scent in it because the one she had made me sneeze, so she had a bit put aside without anything in it. The lotion is a bit of animal fat and some plant stuff, but I don't care.

If it greases me up, that's all I need.

I return to T'chai's arms and press the small pot into his hands. "This. Use this."

He sniffs the small pot as I settle into his arms again, and then digs a finger into the lotion, coating his glove with a liberal amount. I want to protest that he's using too much, that stuff like that isn't easy to make and represents hours of work. But then he rubs his mouth against my hair and tosses the pot aside, and his hand is between my thighs again.

I hold my breath, spreading my legs wider. My eyes are squeezed shut, because I'm afraid that this won't do the trick, either. It won't feel good enough to give me the release that I need— and I suspect he needs,