Mated to the Warrior Beast

234 The Morning After – Part 1*

If you like music while you read, try “Hero – Acoustic” by Beth. It’s what I listened to while writing, and perfectly encapsulates Harth’s heart for her mate.

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~ TARKYN ~

Tarkyn woke to the softest flutter of a touch running down the center of his spine.

For a moment, hovering in that space between asleep and awake, he thought a butterfly was brushing its wings on his skin, and he thanked the Creator for the beauty of it.

But then the touch pressed, still gentle, but those tender fingers trailed up his back, over his waist, to reach for him and Tarkyn was suddenly, happily awake.

Very firmly awake.

He sucked in a breath as Harth began to play, first running the tips of her fingers up and down his length, and then holding him, stroking.

He should roll over. He should take her in his arms and kiss her—

.....

She closed her fingers around him and pumped once, slowly and a small, strangled noise broke in his throat.

“Good morning,” she whispered, her breath fluttering in his hair and the back of his neck so that prickling pleasure washed down his shoulders like water.

“Good morning,” he growled, his voice rough and ragged with sleep.

They hadn’t slept enough. Had fallen into each other’s arms sometime around high moon and not left each other to sleep until hours later.

He was exhausted and drowsy and exhilarated.

His hips flexed instinctively, pressing himself into her hand and he reached for her, intending to stop her, but instead found himself gripping her forearm and sighing, letting himself enjoy her touch.

Harth’s lips brushed the nape of his neck, her tongue darting to taste him, and his breath got faster. Harth pressed herself more firmly against his back and stroked him harder.

For a long moment he only lay there, his fingers on her arm, his body thrilling and tingling with the pleasure of her touch. But then he twined his fingers between hers, stroked himself with her once, then lifted her hand and turned, rolling to face her and pull her into a deep kiss.

Harth arched into him, her kiss already seeking, demanding when he took her mouth. She already stank of desire, which only increased his own.

His mate had been awake, it seemed. Thinking about him.

He shivered when she clawed her hands down his back—no longer gentle—and pulled him closer.

When he reached for her, intending to return the favor, she opened to his touch, already slick and wanting, swollen from their lovemaking the night before. Tarkyn groaned.

“I can’t believe you still want me,” he breathed against the skin just under her ear, nipping at the lobe, then chasing the goosebumps down her neck with his lips.

“I always want you—especially when your body is close,” she whispered, turning her head to give him better access, her breasts rising and falling with her heaving breath.

It was too fast, but Tarkyn had risen faster than the creeping sun outside, and he tasted the salt of his mate’s skin and felt her shiver under his touch, his own breath became harsh.

As she deepened the kiss and stroked her hand up his side, Tarkyn growled with approval and rolled her onto her back, then reared over her to press himself against her while he looked down on her.

She was so fucking beautiful.

Cheeks kissed with pink, eyes hooded and puffy from sleep, her hair messy and everywhere, like a wild halo.

She bit her lower lip when he pressed hard against her and arched, her breath hitching, fingers digging into his ass to hold him there.

“God, Harth…” he groaned, sliding a hand over her breast where her nipples were already peaking. Then, as he teased and touched, it rose higher, rivet-hard under his palm.

“Never stop touching me, Tarkyn,” she breathed. “Please.”

Tarkyn dropped to kiss her desperately, one hand braced on the pillow, the other curling a hand over her head, opening his mouth, flicking with his tongue, but unable to kiss her properly because she tilted her hips and took him unexpectedly.

As he slid into her warmth, Harth sighed and he gave a shuddering groan.

His fingers tightened in her hair as they began to move… slowly. At first, he barely entered her, teasing and slow, their bodies plastered together, all their attention focused on the distinct, tingling pleasure of where they joined so slowly, so slightly.

Harth’s breathing caught when he pressed slightly further, but still so slowly. He stroked one hand down her side to find her thighs pebbled in bumps, the tiny hairs standing up to meet his touch.

And still he didn’t increase the pace.

Lips hovering, breaths mingled, bodies undulating together, every touch was electric, every movement raised prickling pleasure.

Tarkyn could have stayed in that moment forever, wallowing in the joy and bliss of her touch, her body, her warmth, and the crackling pleasure of their slow joining. But then Harth dropped her hands to his thighs and drew her fingers up in that featherlight touch, over his thighs, the front of his hips, sliding her fingers along the seams where they pressed together, then up to his ribs.

There was a strange moment where his entire body washed in pleasure—and goosebumps—and yet he twitched, spluttering, because she’d found that ticklish spot on his ribs again.

He caught her hand, clamping down on it, pressing her into the mattress and opening his eyes to find her, watching him, her own eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Do you want to play, or love, Harth?” he growled, his chest rumbling against hers.

“Can’t we do both?” she whispered, still holding his gaze… then she bit her lip and smiled.

With a mock-growl, Tarkyn grabbed her, rolling them until she was on top.

Harth gave a little shriek and clung to his shoulders—because he’d pulled himself up to lean his back against the headboard of his bed.

Then, with a gleam in his heart that he knew showed in his eyes, he grasped her hips and pulled her down on him as he thrust into her.

Harth’s eyes went wide and her fingers dug into the grooves of his shoulders.

Leaning forward to kiss her, still gripping her hips so she could leave him, Tarkyn took her mouth, tilting his head and leaning her back, plunging with his tongue in a parody of his body.

Harth wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled until he thrust hard again, then her breath caught, and then Tarkyn set to his task.

“Lean back,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Hips rolling, still gripping her so that she wouldn’t move, he urged her to lean back and away from him until her hair tumbled, soft and sweet, over his knees.

Her back was arched round, her breasts pressed high, her nipples rosy and pointing straight for the ceiling.

Mouth open and breath hot, Tarkyn released one hip to reach for those soft, bouncing rounds that called his name.

He wanted to taste them, but he also wanted to show his mate something.

Still rocking into her, he stroked over her collarbones with fingertips, then over each breast, before letting his hand play back down to her hip and taking hold of her there. Then he leaned back as well, still holding her.

She grabbed for him, stiffening as she sought her balance. “No no, don’t sit up. Hold my arms,” he rasped.

Harth lifted her head for a moment, her eyes hooded and glazed, but he urged her not to move, to relax, to let herself fall back because he wouldn’t let her fall. And as she did, she brought her hands to his forearms, gripping to keep herself balanced.

Tarkyn leaned slowly back again, changing the angle of how they met… and then, when his shoulders came up against the headboard and he lay almost flat, he began to thrust in earnest.

Harth cried out and tightened around him, her entire body shivering, her fingers clawed into his arms.

“Tarkyn!”

“Just relax, beautiful, let me take you.”

“It’s... it’s...”

“I know, just give in... just give in.”

He could feel her body responding to the new sensations that pressed him so high within her and gritted his teeth, praying that he could hold himself back until she reached her peak.

But it would be a mammoth task. She was so stunningly beautiful, laid back over his thighs and spread for him, her breasts bouncing, calling for his mouth, his touch. Her body gripping him, shuddering as she tried to accommodate this new pleasure.

For a while he was forced to close his eyes before the mere sight of her tipped him over the edge.

Then Harth began to keen... her voice high and frail, breaking with every thrust, her arms trembling and breath shocked.

She was close. So close.

“Come for me, beautiful, ” he rumbled through gritted teeth. “Let yourself go.”

“Tarkyn.... Tark....”

“I’m here!”

Her entire body quivered, shuddering and shaking, pleading for release as she arched, her nails clawed into his forearms.

Bracing for the incredible sight, Tarkyn opened his eyes, groaning as he watched her take him again and again.

And as she quivered again he slipped one hand from her hip, pressing the pad of his thumb right where they joined, then sliding up with the next thrust.

“Tarkyn!”

He bellowed and followed her into freefall as she clenched even more tightly around him and began to jerk, her body rigid one second, and loose the next, her nipples high and bouncing. And Tarkyn was overwhelmed... his entire body washed in a tidal wave of pleasure, gratitude, and love.

Harth gave a final cry, then sucked in a huge breath as she pulled herself up and forward, collapsing over his chest, her hands in his hair and gripping the back of his neck, while Tarkyn held her tightly against him.

It took some time for both of them to find their breath. But eventually, Harth pushed up on one hand, raking her hair back with the other so she could stare at him, eyes shining and a smile beaming on her face.

“I love you, Tarkyn,” she said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, beautiful,” he whispered, unwilling to admit the tightness in his throat because he was so deeply moved by her. “I love you, too.”

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