How Not to Date a Skunk (6 page)

“Chaska! Fuck, Chaska!” She was screaming as her legs tightened, her toes pointed, her ass clenched and her orgasm pounded its way through her.

He never stopped moving, driving her climax higher, keeping her muscles clenching around him as he crooned his enjoyment, extending her fever pitch of excitement until she exploded again.

Then he chanted her name, pounding out his own orgasm as his body tightened around her, holding her close as he came apart at the seams and was reborn in her arms.

Weakly, his knees gave way, and they both slid to the floor, only the wall at her back holding them upright, him sliding out before he fully deflated. She ran limp fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his face so she could bite at his lips until he became aware enough to turn those bites into kisses.

“Bed?” she managed to ask, her head still in the clouds as afterglow overtook her.

“Yeah,” he answered, but they were both too weak to move.

“So… mates?” she asked again, giggling for some unknown reason — maybe it was fear release and happiness? But she was giggling and she couldn’t stop.

“Yeah, mates,” he breathed, chuckling a little himself.

And all was right with the world. She was a mate. She had a skunk with ambition, and apparently a crazy new family.

Suddenly, the future looked more vibrant than before, almost picture-perfect.

And she could handle that just fine.

“So… Nepal?”

“Nepal,” Chaska agreed, smiling over at the naked body of his mate. She looked delicious sitting on the furs that covered their bed.

Bilana might not have a permanent home, nothing more than a PO Box and a storage space, but that made it so much easier to get her into his home.

She seemed to fit seamlessly, their style, their tastes in foods and entertainment, their desires both physical and spiritual, and their goals for the future…

The more he learned, the closer he came to falling deeply in love with his mate, and she had been honest about feeling this for him, as well. As he predicted, they were learning about each other, and the experience was a scarily delicious thing.

“Think we can find some yeti for you to photograph?”

“Yeti?” She scoffed. “I would be grateful for some Majipa Lakhey dancers. I think I would love to see a dance that is supposedly inherited through the genes.”

“You know it is possible,” he offered, stretching his own naked body across the furs, pushing aside the travel pamphlets that littered the space between them. “I never really learned to dance. It’s instinctual.”

“Hmm.” She purred, bending down to lap at his bottom lip, a move that, she had discovered early into their sexual relationship, sent shivers down his body. “And you work your instincts like a master.”

“Why, thank you, Chanjte’ Sku’ya.” He melted under her touch, closing his eyes and growling as the scent of her, sweet, hot, growing aroused, filled his nostrils.

“And what does that mean?”

“Sweetheart.” He purred, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her in place, his hands caressing her sides.

“Oh, I like that.” She squirmed until she found the perfect position on top of him, his firming cock pressed between their stomachs. He grinned up at her while relishing her lightly scented heat.

“You are, you know.” He lifted his head high enough to press a gentle kiss against her lips. “So dear to my heart, wastelakapi.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, and he only gave her a sweet smile in response. “Tell me,” she demanded, only to break down into giggles as he flipped them over to tickle her vulnerable sides.

It was then that he looked down at her smiling face, her glittering eyes, surrounded by a curtain of his white hair, and he knew it was too late to fight this even if he wanted too. He had fallen totally and completely in love.

And the most wonderful thing was that she was willing to take that trip with him.