Chapter 15 #2
There was more light to see him by this time around, and Maeve took her time, indulging in every contour, tracing every vein.
Her hips began to unconsciously rock, creating a delicious bit of friction between her legs.
He could surely feel her own heat through her silk stockings and underthings, and as she watched him begin to breathe harder, great chest expanding and falling like a bellows, Maeve pressed herself more firmly against his thigh.
Oh, yes.
Perhaps she could work them both to orgasm.
With renewed determination, Maeve played with his glorious cock in one hand and petted his soft mane with the other. She kept her downstrokes light but added a little more pressure on the upstroke, eliciting moans that ran deeper and deeper with each pass.
On her next downstroke, she lingered around the base, exploring the bulge there with her fingertips.
“What’s this?” she asked breathlessly.
After a long, meaningful groan, his head fallen backwards, he told the treetops, “My knot.”
“A knot…” Maeve stared at it in wonder. Ooh, yes, that would feel wonderful inside her, she just knew it. Her cunt seemed to agree, clenching around nothing, a pang of intense need spearing up her middle.
Leaning closer to kiss his throat before picking up the pace of her hips, Maeve flourished attention on the knot, tracing the rim with the pad of her thumb and flicking the top edge with a nail.
“Does this keep you inside longer?” she wondered aloud. “Extend your claim?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
Maeve’s hips snapped down, an orgasm gathering between her legs.
Fates, she’d wet his thigh at this rate.
The idea of that knot inside her, of this big cock splitting her wide, had her panting as hard as him.
Craving hooked its wicked claws inside her, her hips and hand losing their rhythm to something more feverish, more needy.
“Soren,” she moaned.
He showed off all his pearly sharp teeth in his grimace of pained pleasure. “I can’t hold—”
“That’s all right,” she crooned, “come for me.” She needed him to come first, for her sanity.
A mighty groan buzzed against her ear, and then with a whuff, Maeve found herself falling backwards onto the moss.
Her landing was softened by the green cushion and one of Soren’s big paws cradling the back of her head.
He held her gently, yet there was a distinct proprietary feel to his touch, his claws just digging into her scalp, warning her not to think of getting away.
Soren loomed above her, his eyes wild, his ears pinned back. His free hand came down on the other side of her head, and she heard how his claws scraped through the ground by her ear.
“Can’t hold back,” he growled.
He let go of her head to instead gather her hands and hold them just above her. It took but a moment, Maeve left breathless and blinking, wondering when exactly this had turned.
Her skirts were next, impatiently thrown up to her waist to expose her stockings and underthings. His growl grew in volume and ferocity the more of her he revealed. Maeve squirmed beneath him, not quite ready for the intensity of his attention, but he gave her no quarter.
An undignified sound caught in her throat when his head dropped to taste her there.
The wide flat of his tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat before running up the column of her neck.
A rumbling growl accompanied the heat, and Maeve was left stunned when he did it again, this time pushing down her neckline to burrow his nose between her breasts and lick from sternum to throat.
Her whole body shuddered, accompanied by a gush of wetness.
Maeve yelped when Soren suddenly reared up, nostrils flaring, and thrust his head between her legs. That damp nose trailed up her thigh to her mons, where he swirled that big tongue.
“Need this,” he groaned. That was her only warning before he drove his mouth against her covered cunt.
Maeve arched off the moss, thighs straining as he licked and sucked greedily, his violent purr shaking them both. He quickly grew frustrated by her underthings and pushed them aside with his nose, claiming her bare flesh in a voracious kiss.
His bifurcated lips and long fangs and twitching whiskers were like nothing she’d ever felt, bombarding her with sensation. His licks and suckles were clumsy, sometimes too rough, but fates, they were enthusiastic. He ate her up, and Maeve had nothing to do but lay there and take the onslaught.
She couldn’t form a thought long enough to protest—did she really want to, anyway—instead left with little choice but to succumb.
He devoured her, and unpracticed though he was, he sought her pleasure.
When he found her clitoris and felt her reaction to his touch, he devoted renewed attention there, cupping the underside and running the textured flat of his tongue over the hood.
It was messy and overwhelming and everything she didn’t know she needed. Maeve flew over the edge, hips rolling to seek even more friction as she cried with pleasure. Stars burst around the edges of her vision, and it wasn’t for a long while that she realized she’d boxed his ears with her thighs.
Maeve couldn’t let him go for another long while, thighs trembling and belly twitching as he continued to lap at her, as though to claim every drop.
“Soren.” She hardly recognized her voice, hoarse from her cries.
His ears perked, and he looked up. A bit of clarity had returned to his eyes, and as he rose over her, his expression became almost wary. He released her hands, but when he might have thought she’d push him away, Maeve instead grabbed hold of his face.
“Kiss me, Soren. Right now.”
He blinked in surprise, but she didn’t give him more time to think. He came willingly, bending just close enough.
Maeve pressed her mouth to his, needing this added connection. She didn’t kiss often, found it messy and overstimulating, but right then, she needed it more than her next breath.
She tasted herself on him, a complex musk that only had her squirming beneath him.
“Open your mouth,” she whispered, and when he complied, she tangled their tongues.
His groan that melted into more decadent purrs was exactly what she needed. Soren sank into the cradle of her body, his elbows taking his weight as he held her head in his paws.
It wasn’t a finessed kiss, but it was just what she wanted then. Raw, unfettered, entirely theirs. She reveled in the texture of his tongue, in the scrape of his claws in her hair, and the warm weight of his body over hers.
Without thinking or disconnecting, Maeve reached between them to find his cock. From how sticky he was, he’d already come at least once, but she needed more. A deep, resonant moan echoed from the pit of his chest when she used her hand to press his cock along the seam of her cunt.
Soren began to rock, not needing instruction, instead chasing that pleasure and heat.
With her hand to guide his strokes, the underside of his cock slid along her swollen flesh, slick with their spends.
Her hand was quickly soaked, his cock slippery in her grip, and Maeve mewed into Soren’s mouth, her pleasure almost painful in a way she’d never felt before.
He replied with a soothing noise. “Sa-set. Gan-gala tam,” he murmured. “Together, urisá.”
They moved together, the soft darkness closing around them as she felt the orgasm throb between them.
She clutched him tight, prolonging the pleasure as she set his head at her clitoris, feeling every spurt of spend.
He brought her with him, claiming her mouth in a breath-stealing kiss that went on and on, lasting even longer than the orgasm gripped them.
Finally, their bodies both spent, Soren collapsed over her.
Maeve stared up at the leafy canopy above, not quite believing all that had happened. All her plans had gone up in a puff of smoke, but she…wasn’t unhappy about it. No, she might be sticky and definitely sore tomorrow, but she was anything but unhappy.
Sighing contentedly, Maeve turned to nuzzle into his soft mane. In his warmth, she heard how he vibrated still with a heavy purr.
Fates, could he come again?
It took her a moment to realize the sound wasn’t purring but grumbling. She kissed his cheek, feeling the sound against her lips. Maeve didn’t like the niggle of worry that something was wrong, that he was somehow displeased…possibly with her.
“What is it?” she whispered sweetly, not allowing her worries to seep through. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“Of course I did,” he nearly spat. Pushing himself up, he frowned down at her. “Too much. A woman like you deserves better than a beast who takes advantage of her on the side of the road. Twice.”
Maeve blinked up at him in surprise. He was…grumpy with himself? Because he thought he’d taken advantage of her?
It started in her belly and quickly worked up her abdomen to her throat. Maeve tried valiantly, but she couldn’t hold back her fit of giggles. It burst out of her, leaving her to clutch her middle as she rolled back and forth between his arms.
He watched from his perch above, frowning down his muzzle at her, and the sight just made her laugh harder.
This poor, sweet man!
Before he could get too grumpy, though, Maeve smacked her hands on either side of his dear face and pulled him down by his cheek tufts to her. “Take advantage of me more,” she insisted before claiming his open, shocked mouth in more deep, laughing kisses.