Pairing with the Protector Read online

  “Rafe?” she asked quietly, and put out a foot to nudge the back of his knee.

  “Yes?” He half-turned his head to see her, though his big body remained facing obstinately away, Whitney saw with exasperation.

  “Rafe,” she said again in a low, coaxing tone. “Could you…would you hold me tonight?”

  He made a sound low in his throat which might have been either longing or protest or both and shook his head.

  “I…should not.”

  “Please?” Whitney pleaded shamelessly. I don’t mind being in a cage during the day but at night it’s so lonely and scary. I just…” She choked back a sob that she didn’t have to fake a bit. “I just don’t want to feel all alone here. Please, Rafe.”

  “Mon’dalla…” He rolled over and, much to Whitney’s relief, gathered her into his arms. “I can deny you nothing,” he rumbled low, in her ear. “Though I know in this case I should.”

  “Why should you?” Whitney protested, snuggling close to his broad, bare chest. His warm, spicy scent invaded her senses making her feel somehow aroused, protected, and cherished all at the same time. “Is it really just your vow?” she asked. “Or is it something else? Something in your past?”

  Rafe stiffened against her.

  “I do not wish to speak of it.” His voice was low and cold and he seemed on the verge of pulling away and leaving her alone again. Whitney sensed she had gone too far and hurriedly changed the subject.

  “Then let’s talk about how we’re going to get out of here,” she said quickly. “Let’s talk about getting Mama Tusker to take us to the tweedle show.”

  She could see him frowning in the dim light from the softly glowing sides of the ramp which led to the upstairs.

  “I am not sure we can get her to take us. Not if we must do…what Yancy and Yarrow have been doing.”

  “Do you think they’re actually, uh, doing it though?” Whitney asked. “Or just pretending?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Who knows? It is not our business to question or to judge them. But I am not sure about making such a pretense ourselves.”

  “I think we should do it,” Whitney said strongly. “Fake it, I mean—fake breeding,” she said quickly, when he looked at her with one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Yancy and Yarrow and Dood all seem to think it’s the only way to get Mama Tusker to keep us together and take us to the show.”

  Rafe frowned. “I am not certain how I feel about even pretending to take you in that way.”

  “Why?” Whitney demanded, turning to face him more. “I mean, faking it isn’t actually doing it—isn’t actually having sex,” she pointed out. “We wouldn’t really be breaking your vow, any more than we did when you, uh, sucked my nipples and touched me in the matching pen cage.”

  His frown deepened until his face looked like a thundercloud.

  “I should not have done that.”

  “You had to,” Whitney said patiently. “How else could we have convinced Mama Tusker that we were a matched pair?”

  “We should have found another way.” But his deep voice sounded doubtful, as though he knew in his heart that there had been no other way to accomplish their goal.

  “I didn’t mind, you know,” Whitney admitted softly, drawing patterns on his broad chest with her fingertips. “It felt…really good to have you touch me and taste me like that. It wouldn’t really bother me if…if we had to do something similar in order to go to the show.”

  Rafe shook his head. “But it would bother me. It would be against my vow.”

  “But isn’t the main part of your vow all about protecting me?” Whitney asked reasonably. “I mean, keeping me safe no matter what you have to do in order to shield me from harm?”

  “Well…” Rafe shifted in the bed uncomfortably.

  “What it boils down to is that you’re supposed to look out for me,” Whitney said. “And if this is the only way to do it, well…what choice do you have?”

  “I do not think that our only choice is breeding.” Rafe’s deep voice was dangerously close to a growl but at least he didn’t pull away from her.

  “But we wouldn’t be breeding—not really,” Whitney reminded him. “Just pretend breeding. Like Yancy and Yarrow do.” Well, maybe anyway—she still wasn’t quite sure about them herself but she wasn’t about to point that out now.

  “Fake breeding,” Rafe mused and she could tell that he was mulling it over.

  “Sure,” she said encouragingly. “I mean, you could, uh, get up behind me and you know…pretend to, uh, take me. In fact,” she said, getting a sudden inspiration. “Maybe we should practice now—just so we’re ready for the morning when Mama Tusker comes to give us our breakfast.” She made a face. “Which I really hope isn’t more of those awful shroom slices!”

  “Practice?” Rafe sounded perplexed. “Why should we practice fake breeding?”

  “To make it look real, of course,” Whitney said. “And to get more, uh, comfortable with the idea—you know? We don’t want to fumble and bumble and look all awkward when we do it. We want Mama to look at us and think we’re going at it for real right away.”

  “I don’t know…” Rafe said hesitantly, but Whitney was already getting on her hands and knees on the bed and looking over her shoulder at him.

  “Come on, Rafe,” she said encouragingly, her voice just a little breathless. “Come get behind me and grab onto my hips.”

  “We should not,” he protested but he was already getting to his knees and putting his big, warm hands tentatively on her hips.

  “Sure we should,” Whitney said encouragingly.

  Her heart was pumping hard now and the blood was beginning to rush in her veins. Somewhere inside she heard a little voice demanding what she thought she was doing—this was wrong, she shouldn’t tempt her Protector this way. And yet somehow she couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Come on,” she urged Rafe, who was still keeping some distance between them. “You have to get closer than that or Mama’s going to know we’re faking it. You’re going to have to get right up behind me.”

  “I shouldn’t,” he rumbled but then Whitney felt the heat of his big body against her bare thighs and ass as he finally came close enough to touch her.

  “All right now,” she said encouragingly. “Lean into me and pretend…pretending you’re pressing your shaft deep inside me…inside my pussy.”

  She felt naughty saying such things to him but hot too—hot and wet and swollen between her thighs. Deliberately, she spread her legs and widened her stance, giving him better access to her open pussy. At the same time, she went from her hands and knees down to her elbows. Then she tilted her hips and pushed back against him, wanting to feel his big, hard body lining up with her own, pressing against her.

  He got even closer but then something hard and hot poked between her pussy lips. Rafe gave a strangled oath and began to back away.

  “No, don’t.” Whitney turned her head and put back a hand to grab his arm and stop him.

  “Forgive me.” His deep voice sounded strangled. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “Don’t apologize—it’s a good thing,” Whitney assured him, her voice more breathless than ever. “I mean, we have to make it look real, right? So we can’t worry about it every time we accidentally touch. In fact…” she shifted against him, tilting her pelvis and widening her stance even more. “I think it would be good to practice that too—you touching me, I mean. Rubbing against me while you, um, thrust.”

  “And why would we practice such a thing?” Rafe asked flatly, though she noticed he hadn’t moved his hands from her hips.

  “So we don’t jump apart and give the act away every time we accidentally touch, of course,” Whitney said reasonably. “Go ahead—pretend you’re thrusting and rub against me at the same time, Rafe. It’s the only way to get used to it so Mama Tusker doesn’t suspect.”

  “Well…if you’re certain.” His deep voice was hoarse with desire, which only made Whitney hotter. She wasn’t certai