Chapter 20 #2
The beast chuffed again—a beastly laugh?—and used his muzzle to push at her chest. Maeve fell back onto her cushion with an oomph, watching in surprise as the turuk stalked forward.
She experienced a moment of fear—anyone in their right mind would, seeing an enormous predator approaching—but there wasn’t time for more than a moment.
Pushing her legs apart, the beast wedged himself between them before laying down, his enormous head in her lap, chin resting just below her breasts.
“More petting,” it said in that horrible, fantastical voice. “Never stop.”
Maeve chuckled, giving the beast what he wanted. His large head lolled to the side, filling her palms, and between his loud purring and shameless nuzzling, she’d say the beast was downright blissful.
“Who knew you could be such a flirt,” she remarked, tracing the triangles of his ears.
“Am better half,” said the beast, throwing her a wink.
Oh, dear. Maeve wasn’t sure she could handle such a flirty Soren. She could see what he meant about the beast being a handful. The turuk demanded her full attention, huffing if she presumed to stop her petting, and made no attempt to hide that his nuzzling was getting lower and lower on her belly.
She thought she still preferred Soren’s two-legged form in that regard. Still, she happily spent the better part of an hour exchanging teases and flirtations with the turuk, forgetting sometimes that it was still Soren.
Maeve could see traces of him there, in the intelligent gleam of his eyes and the particular way his tail swished when he was pleased. Yet, the turuk was at ease far more than Soren usually was, making her wonder if he was truly such an unruly beast.
“Why do you worry yourself so much?” she asked eventually. “You seem like a perfectly nice turuk to me.”
“To you.” Lifting his massive head, the beast pinned her with a searing stare when he said, “I protect what’s mine.” A shudder of fear zipped down Maeve’s spine when the beast smiled, revealing every one of his teeth, most longer than her fingers. “You are the only one who shouldn’t fear me.”
“And why’s that?”
The beast rumbled, leaning forward to lick her cheek with his rough tongue. “You are kigara. Mate. Mine. Forever.”
“I see.” Not really, but it seemed right to say something in the face of that declaration. Fates, he really was a possessive beast.
She didn’t quite know how to resolve the beast’s words with Soren the man who’d fled from her the moment they met.
If Maeve had to guess, she’d say Beastly Soren would’ve pounced on her then and there.
She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, or whether she should feel anything at all.
It’s not like she would’ve wanted him to pounce on her then. Right?
The beast’s body rippled, not unlike how Soren’s had right before his shift, but the turuk grumbled, shook his head, and steadied.
“Not yet,” he grumbled, although perhaps not to Maeve. No, for her, he stared at her a long while, gaze considering. “Do I frighten you?” he asked.
“Not really,” she said, and mostly meant it. “You’re Soren, after all. Just another side of him.”
The beast nodded, seemingly pleased with her answer. “One and the same,” he rumbled, again perhaps not just to Maeve.
Apparently content with the conversation, the beast reclined again. Although this time, he rolled onto his back, revealing his belly. The mane extended nearly to his groin, a dark arrow pointing toward—
Maeve cleared her throat. Fates, she’d never blushed from a cock before, but if any one deserved it, it was the turuk’s.
Purring like a big, happy kitten, the turuk wriggled closer, happy to lay with his paws in the air and belly exposed so long as she was petting him.
They stayed like that for another short while, enjoying a peaceful quiet like she’d had before with two-legged Soren. Maeve enjoyed the time with both, grateful to have seen this new side of him despite his misgivings.
He deserves a reward.
Oh, yes, she liked that idea.
Eventually, the turuk licked her hand one more time before pushing up to sit on his haunches. Shaking out his mane, he said, “Whatever he says, remember—you are kigara.”
“I won’t forget,” she promised, the words heavy on her tongue.
Pleased, the turuk stood, his body rippling once more. The beast contracted, limbs reshaping into that of a man. Within two blinks, Soren the man stood before her, rising to his full height. Gone was the confident smirk in his green eyes—instead, he looked down at her warily.
“You really aren’t frightened of me?”
“No, not of either of you.” And, deciding she needed to nip this uncertainty in the bud and commence with her plan, she sat up on her knees. When he bent to gather his kilt off the ground, Maeve stayed his hand. “Thank you for showing me your turuk. I think you deserve a reward for being so brave.”
“What…?”
A mischievous smile curled her lips, and Maeve touched each of her hands to his lower thighs.
His throat bobbed on a hard swallow. “You can’t mean—?”
“Can’t I?” she said, brow arching as she moved her cushion around to soften where she stood on her knees in front of him. Running her hands up and down his thighs, going a little higher every time, she batted her lashes as she asked, “Unless you don’t want to?”
That was another matter entirely, of course, but she needn’t have worried.
A groan that sounded dredged from the very bottom of his chest escaped him, and the claws on his toes dug into the dirt, as if to root him in place. Every muscle seemed to strain, standing starkly against his fur, and he gritted his fangs together when he finally said, “If you want.”
“Oh, I do,” she assured him before pecking his cockhead in a quick kiss.
His skin jumped as if shocked, something between a purr and a growl brewing in his chest.
Maeve filled her hands and then her mouth with him greedily, wanting to see how he tasted.
She started gently, with teasing fingertips and kisses, slowly building up speed and pressure.
By the time she was ready to attempt taking his cockhead in her mouth, he stood fully erect, knot engorged and slit weeping.
He murmured her name and a litany of other things, nice words that sounded like prayers, as his hands came to gently frame her head.
His touch was light, carding through her hair, and Maeve felt emboldened.
She didn’t usually like for a man to hold her head or hair while she did this—it made the act feel as though he was taking his pleasure rather than her bestowing it.
Something about the difference in dynamic left her cold.
However, she’d never begrudge the delicious scrape of his claws on her scalp, the gentle pressure making her melt.
He was salty and musky like any other man, although there was a slight difference in his taste.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it wasn’t bad.
No indeed, the way his hot shaft split her lips, the way his spade-shaped head fit against her tongue, and the salty tang of him on the back of her throat weren’t bad at all.
Moaning, Maeve valiantly took as much as she could, impressing even herself as she worked more and more of him into her mouth. She could never take all of him like this without far more practice, but she was proud to claim at least half.
Although it was she with a mouth stuffed full of cock, it was Soren who sounded choked.
Almost pained noises were muffled behind his gritted teeth, and his eyes were nearly shut in his grimace of pleasure.
If his hips hadn’t been gently rocking to meet her mouth, she might’ve thought she was hurting him.
Maeve felt the wild, feral look in his eye all the way down to her toes and back. Her cunt clenched unhappily, before beginning to throb. Needy for a little attention.
Unable to bear it anymore, Maeve reached under her skirts to give herself some relief. Her pleased moan vibrated around Soren’s cock, bringing a roar and spurt of spend.
So when he pulled back, popping free of her lips, Maeve was surprised he didn’t paint her with ropes of it. His glistening cock bobbed angrily in the daylight, a pearlescent bead of spend dribbling down the underside. When she ducked to lick it up, moaning greedily, his claws caught her fast.
“Don’t you want to come?” she pouted.
A frenetic growl was her answer. Quicker than she could track, she was up and then down again, being laid back against the tree with the cushion to cradle her head. Soren surged over her, blocking out the sun as he flipped up her skirts and pulled her hand away.
“Inside. Need inside.”
Maeve gasped in delight and surprise when he took the neckline of her gown by the teeth and yanked it down. There was a ripping sound somewhere, but that hardly mattered. Her breasts sprang free, and he was there, feasting on one while filling a fist with the other.
“Soren,” she moaned, her hand straying to her throbbing clitoris.
Another growl, and one of his hands was there, batting her away. He replaced her fingers with his own, his movements impatient. Two fingers plunged inside without preamble, making Maeve arch off the ground.
“Soren!”
His fingers curled just so, finding that place inside her that made her see stars. He rubbed there ruthlessly, his predator eyes unblinking, entirely focused on her face.
They were the eyes of the turuk looking at her then, beastly and intense. A sharp orgasm began to ripple through her, sucking his fingers deeper inside.
“Can’t be gentle this time,” he warned, his voice so guttural, it was nearly the beast’s. “He’s too close.”
Reaching up to grab a fistful of mane, Maeve tugged him down to her. “Good,” she growled back.
His slitted pupils blew wide, and a smirk teased his lips.
“Eremit kigará,” he purred.
Her smile fell away when his fingers slid out, leaving her bereft, denying her her orgasm. Maeve’s lips parted on an outraged gasp, falling open wider as Soren surged over her, burning cockhead pushing at her entrance.
He replaced his fingers with his dripping cock, working himself inside in rough, determined strokes.
Maeve’s legs fell open wider to make more room, breasts bouncing with the force of his invasion.
A paw landed on one breast, squeezing the giving flesh.
Maeve moaned, covering his hand with hers and hanging on as Soren pounded inside.
His skin rippled as though to shift, but he maintained his form, growling and snarling as though he fought to remain dominant. The sight triggered her orgasm, and Maeve fell from her peak screaming his name.
Hardly had it ended before he withdrew again. She did gasp this time, her protest a moaning, nonsensical sound. She wanted him back, wanted to feel how she clenched around him, wanted to feel the fullness of when he came inside—
Without warning, she was flipped to her front and her hips lifted into the air.
Her skirts went up over her backside, landing around her shoulders and leaving her exposed.
She hadn’t bothered with underthings other than stockings when coming out that afternoon, and from his lascivious purr, he’d finally realized it, too.
A mewling whine escaped her when the flat of his textured tongue lapped up the length of her from behind. She felt his pleased chuckle against her most sensitive flesh, leaving her top half to sink to the ground in a shudder of pleasure.
“You are a naughty little thing, eremi,” he purred, bestowing another generous lick before spearing his tongue inside her.
Maeve arched and yelped, nails digging into the ground. Her thighs trembled, barely able to hold her weight, but when it seemed like she might collapse from want of more, his paw was there, pushing her back up.
Forehead rubbing against the cushion, Maeve whined, “Sor-en!”
She could feel how wet she was, her cunt already soaked and weeping down her thighs.
She received one more lingering kiss before his weight fell across her back.
His paw came round her neck, and she was lifted once more onto all fours.
He held her by the throat, not tightly or squeezing, just enough for support and so she knew she was caught.
He pushed inside in one sure, never-ending thrust. His purr stuttered into a lusty growl and back again as their pelvises met, his knot teasing her entrance.
“Want it,” she moaned, “want your knot.”
Snarling, he caught her round the middle, hand fixing at her mons to press her clitoris between thumb and cock. Maeve lurched and wriggled but he held fast, teeth clamping down on the curve between neck and shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin, but she was well and truly trapped.
With his arm around her, he thrust her back as he pushed forward. Maeve cried into the distance as his knot pushed inside her, filling her to the brim.
Want it all, want everything, always, always—
Caught in his arms and teeth, there was nothing for Maeve to do but let herself be used as he gave her more pleasure than she could bear. She tried to match his pace, but all her body could do was come and come and come.
She clenched around him, squeezing him tight, accepting everything he could give.
“Soren, Soren, Soren,” she chanted, not sure when one orgasm ended and another began. Perhaps it was all one endless cascade, the type that could drive someone mad with wanting.
His teeth released her for a moment, only for his tongue to run up her neck. At her ear, he rumbled, “Kigara.”
“Yes!” she screamed, vision blurring white.
Soren set his teeth on her again, sparking a new flood of sensation, and she felt him come apart. His thrusts quickened, and he somehow grew inside her, filling her again and again with spend.
Maeve had never lost consciousness before, but she teetered then, overwhelmed by him. His beast, his intensity, his goodness, they all poured inside her. She felt every bit of him and took it all greedily, only wanting more. Wanting all she could get.
I never want this to end.