Unnatural Instinct: Blood Run

16.

It's a night you'll never forget.

You watch the sunset until it burns against the horizon. Like every night past, the monkeys call and shriek and make a big deal of it. A cool breeze brushes through your hair, making you shiver.

His arm tightens around your shoulders. He gestures at the scene. 'End. Beginning. Forever.'

You raise your eyebrows at him. You don't know quite what he means but you understand that he's trying to communicate something deep to you. And you realise, once again, how wrong the women are about him.

You squeeze his knee.

The world darkens. The monkeys quieten. And soon all you have is the heat of his warm body pressing against your side and his grip on your shoulders. You can hear him breathing. His hair brushes against your shoulder.

His eyes are glittering like the stars as he turns to you. 'Come.'

He helps you to your feet and leads you back to the shelter, whereupon he starts to gather the grass for another fire. 'No,' you say. 'Leave it. Can we just have the moon and the stars tonight?'

Looking up at the sky, he nods. Taking his hand, you drag him into the bedding of pelts. He grabs your breast.

'No,' you say. 'Let me.'

Pushing him to the ground, you half sit on your hip as you look down on him. His hands are by his sides, his dark hair fanned out, as he gazes up at you. A muscle in your chest gives a little clench. He's never looked so vulnerable, nor so innocent.

Innocent. A strange thing to think after all he's done to you. But that look in his eyes—it almost reminds you of a child. How can he be so capable of so many things and yet seem so naïve?

You study the full stretch of his body. The moonlight is bright tonight, beaming into the shelter, pooling between the hard muscles of his abdomen and the bones of his broad shoulders. More than ever, it brings out the gleam in his eyes.

His body is so different to yours: at once less beautiful and yet more fascinating. You touch him gently, dragging your finger lightly down his sternum. He sucks in a breath, and instantly, what was once a half-living thing between his legs, turns into something very much alive. You smile. That's all it takes—a simple touch. His fists grip the pelts as he gives a little growl. Leaning over, you kiss him right on that masculine notch in the middle of his throat.

He grabs your head.

'No,' you say sternly. 'My turn.'

His eyes are blazing as you lift your face to his. For several moments he doesn't let go and you can't help but feel a twist of fear. But he releases you, licking his lips as he relaxes back into the pelts.

You smooth your hands over his shoulders, then over his hard chest. His nipples turn hard. You can't believe how fearless you are as you lean down to press your mouth over one, then the other. He groans, snuffles, then reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. As you move your lips lower, the muscles in his abdomen tighten, and when you sink your tongue into his belly button, his whole body ripples.

He hisses through his teeth. 'Hurt.'

You jerk back your head in surprise. 'Sorry!'

'Hurt.' He points at his groin.

You look and relax. It's not the right word but you understand what he means. It's hard and throbbing and rests against his pelvis like a pole. You touch it. He groans. You grab it. He whines. You think of all that he's done to you: his shameless intimacy, his licking, his sucking. Could you do something like that? You lick your lips but the thought ties a knot in your belly. You're not ready for something like that.

Maybe later. Maybe ... after.

Pulling back, you snuggle into the pelts beside him. He turns on his side to face you and you can feel the hardness of him pressed up against your groin. Snuffling at your hair, he licks your ear, your neck, then moves down to suck the point of your shoulder. Grasping his head, you knead your fingers along his scalp. It's a very primal thing to do. Very affectionate. Much like his licking and snuffling. You don't know where it comes from. All you know is that something deep inside you tells you to do it and that it feels right.

It feels very right.

Sinking through the pelts until your head is level with his, you press your cheek against his and start rubbing against him. His stubble is sharp against your skin, so you don't do it for long before turning to the rest of him, rubbing your nose against his, pressing your face into his throat, nibbling at his chin.

Before long you're snuffling through his hair and licking his ear just like he likes to do. You're licking his ear! A muffled voice in the back of your head tells you to stop, that it's disgusting and to look at yourself! But you can't stop. You don't want to stop. His ear tastes good and you like the way he quivers beneath your mouth.

He laughs. A real laugh. A deep throaty one that you didn't think him capable of. It sounds so human you pull back with a start. He doesn't let you get away too far, grabbing your head with a growl. Baring his teeth, he seizes your shoulders and twists you around until you're on all fours. He climbs over you until his chest is pressed against your back. Yanking up your netted skirt, he presses his groin against your arse. He's panting and grunting in your ear as he positions the hard length of his penis against your opening.

You release a groan at the feel of it and part your thighs a little more so it rests between the soft cheeks of your womanhood. And there he thrusts against you. He doesn't thrust inside—not yet, though you ache for it. Instead, he slides it along your most sensitive point until your body burns and throbs and you can't help but thrust along with him.

Is this what it's going to be like when he mates with you?

Pressing you lower into the pelts, he nips at your shoulder. You gasp—but not in pain. Your body is a ball of pleasure and sensation; pain doesn't register. 

He pulls you back onto your knees, his chest still pressed against your back as he continues rubbing against the soft, wet flesh of your groin with the hardness of his cock. You look down and you can see it poking out between your legs. He grunts, grabbing at your hands as you try to put it inside you.

'No,' he pants.

'Yes,' you gasp.

He tightens his grip on your hands as he nips your other shoulder. You throw your head back with another gasp. You're both holding onto the core of him as he continues with his thrusting. His penis grows before your eyes. You can feel it grow in your grasp. He thrusts faster, until he finally grunts and shudders and expels in your hands. It feels even hotter between your fingers than it did on your belly.

He's still holding onto you as he stills. Releasing your sticky hands, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, nuzzling the back of your neck.

You don't know what to do with your hands, except to hold them there with his seed pooling in the middle of your palms. It oozes between your fingers. It drips onto the pelts.

He cups your hands with his much bigger ones, then presses them to you belly. He helps you smear it into your skin before reaching for your bra. He pulls it up.

What else can you do?

You rub it into your breasts.