She fidgets, her plump ass grinding into my already hard stoyuk. “Nothing.”
I give her a stern look—she rolls her hips.
My mate will be the death of me.
“Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
This deflates her a bit. “I did, but Ilian, I need…”
Zhuliya trails off, helpless against the force of our bond and the arousal it sparks inside of her.
“I know, soyam, I promise I do, but this will only make it worse. Have you tried…taking care of it yourself?”
The memory of my mate rubbing her hidden jewel and coming on my stoyuk fills my mind, and I inhale sharply, dispelling the thought.
Not now.
“I tried this morning in the shower, actually.”
She looks me in the eye when she confesses, but her cheeks tint a lovely, rosy shade that reminds me of her pussy.
“It didn’t help?”
“I couldn’t…I’ve never struggled before, but no matter how aroused I became, I couldn’t come. It’s almost painful, this need.”
My guilt reaches new echelons. “The bond makes you crave me. It works to keep us codependent.”
“That sounds unhealthy.”
I chuckle. “You must remember that my kind evolved in the bitterness of northern Siberia, near the Arctic circle.
Our survival demanded what you consider an unhealthy relationship. Mating bonds ensure that Ithaquan couples can sense one another and their basic needs, such as if they’re in danger or hungry.
These are key to enduring the harsh landscape, and by making us need one another, it also guarantees the propagation of future Ithaqua.”
“So the overwhelming desire I feel for you is really just Aisyth’s sick way of continuing your species?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that—and I can’t say for sure what my goddess was thinking in sanctioning our bond. To be honest, I don’t think we can procreate.”
“Something else to ask her if we find her.”
“We will,” I promise for the thousandth time.
My mind races as I think of ways to comfort Zhuliya, but I know there’s only one. With a sigh, I shift her in my lap.
“I want you to try and make yourself come again.”
She blushes. “I told you, I can’t.”
“But you did last night.”
The pink of her cheeks deepens. “Because I was riding you!”
Crap, that’s too valid of a point.
“Maybe me holding you will be enough.”
We both know it won’t be, but neither of us wants to address what’s inevitably going to happen.
I twist Zhuliya so that her back is pressed against me while spreading her legs wide over the side of my lap.
Her breath hitches when I take her hand and glide it over her pants. The soft material appears stretchy and built for warmth.
When I reach the apex of her thighs, I move away, but my mate protests. “Please, keep your hand on top of mine.”
It’s a bad idea, but again, I can’t seem to deny her when I’m already putting her through much physically and emotionally.
“As you wish, soyam.”
She relaxes a little at this, and I feel her fingers work small circles over her center. Her hips buck, and my left hand pushes down on her hip to anchor her in place.
Faster and faster her fingers fly, her pleasure building, but then she lets out a groan of defeat—not bliss.
“I was so close,” she whimpers.
“Maybe try inside your pants.”
Zhuliya nods, but when I try to pull back, she yanks my hand with hers down the front of her lacy underwear.
