FIVE
PHOENIX
Asmart man would leave it alone—leave her alone. Patient, stoic, aloof, distant, that’s what cool and attractive men are supposed to be when pursuing a woman, right?
Too bad I’m not a man. I’m a fucking Firebird.
Possessive. Heated. And greedy. So motherfucking greedy… for her.
My flame-tipped wings singe as I beat back the cold night air.
I stretch out, letting the damp air glide across the cartilage of my wings.
My chest hums with the heat of the flames inside.
I’m out of control tonight. The minute I had her pinned beneath me, writhing under the weight of my body, I knew I’d be needing to shift as soon as possible.
The monster beneath the surface was too powerful to ignore, his clawing grasp to go full flamer nearly forcing a shift in the middle of the dive bar.
That would have been rather unfortunate.
A small puff of smoke slips from between my lips, curling through the darkness of the night.
I’m barely hanging on. My cocks have been throbbing incessantly since shifting, hard and full, and aching for release.
The swollen gland at the top feels nearly ready to burst, pulsing with heat in time to my racing heart.
Never, in my entire existence, has a creature affected me in such a way.
What is this tiny female doing to me?
I’m an ancient creature forged from the flames of Fury. I am mythical and magical. I am eternal. And yet, she has reduced me to a feral beast, one who will not stop until he’s buried deep inside her tight little cunt, filling her with his seed—
“Fuck,” I groan as my cocks begin to leak from the tips. I am consumed by her.
I adjust the angle of my wings, turning to the side and gliding to the left.
The wind whips through the flames flickering in the hollow cavity of my chest, twisting playfully around the horns of my head as I try to calm myself.
I scent the air. Her smell—sweet spun sugar—wafts through the night, even up this high.
I adjust my wings again, following the scent.
I wouldn’t really call this stalking. Stalking sounds nefarious. It’s more like keeping an eye on her from afar. While thinking about pinning her down and claiming her… totally normal and not at all unreasonable.
I let out a groan of frustration as I land on the stone ledge of the building, my taloned toes digging into the rough surface and searching for a steadying purchase.
I plant myself on the ledge of a roof, a perfect spot for non-nefarious watching from afar.
See? Totally not a creepy stalker, just a dude who happens to be a monster, watching a woman he barely knows as she travels back home—normal guy stuff.
“Where are you, Little Spark?” I ask into the night sky as I scan the busy city street below. People come and go but none of them are my focus.
A flash of scarlet has my fiery gaze zeroing in. She’s there—sliding from the back of a cab and heading into a building. The way her plump, peachy ass looks in those tight jeans has my cocks jerking.
“Where are you going?” I ask out loud as I watch her head into a large stone building with cracks on the facade. The front is composed mostly of drafty looking windows. “You can’t possibly live in such a place?”
A light flickers on a moment later, illuminating a series of windows on the third floor from the top of the tall building.
There, moving through the newly-lit rooms is my girl.
She shrugs off her coat, exposing her pale skin to all who might be watching from outside.
Rage fills my core, sending shooting sparks of flickering flames cascading into the cool night air.
She is on display for any man—or monster, to watch.
It would be no work at all to break the measly locks on the ancient windows and enter her home.
This apartment will not do. She will not be staying here. I must remedy this imme—
“Shit.” The word slips from my lips in a quiet whisper, my train of thought completely shattered as she slips her dark jeans down her creamy thighs, exposing her black lace panties.
She stands and stretches, arching her back in a way that has me leaning so far forward I nearly fall.
“More!” I demand despite her utter inability to hear me as my wings beat against the air to keep me upright.
She walks through rooms, disappearing then reappearing through another lit window as she slips her bra off beneath her shirt and tosses it on a small but plush looking bed.
Even from this distance I can see the hardened buds of her nipples pushing against the cotton confines of her dark tee shirt.
My aching members leak with need and I can no longer stop myself.
My thick fingers wrap around my twisted cocks, tracing slowly over each ridge. A shutter of pleasure runs through me.
She probably assumes no one can see her this high above this city.
The building I’m perched upon appeared to be industrial, no one would be inside this time of night, which explains why my perfect Little Spark feels confident enough to lift the shirt off her body and above her head.
A feral growl leaves my throat as I catch sight of her perfect breasts.
Thick, creamy mounds of delectable flesh tipped with perfect pink buds.
My hand moves faster as I watch her lithe fingers run across the pristine flesh of her beautiful breasts.
She tweaks a nipple between her fingers, pulling on the hardened nub with her head thrown back.
Mine.
The singular possessive word ricochets through my mind as I watch her play with her breasts, first one and then the other, until both of her pink nipples are erect and reddened.
My cocks leak on my hand as I continue to pump my lengths, desperate to know how sweet she’d moan for me if I was the one toying with her tits.
Would she enjoy a small flicker of flame teasing her pale skin?
I have a feeling she would more than enjoy it.
She suddenly stops her ministrations, letting out what appears to be a huff of annoyance. I realize that as she has stopped, so have I.
This woman controls my pleasure even from afar it would seem. I am most definitely whipped.
Her figure turns and moves back onto the bed, laying back against pillows and spreading her legs. Her dark red hair splays out around her head in soft waves.
“Splayed out like a perfect feast,” I groan into the night as she sheds her black underwear, leaving her bare. She has a strip of dark hair running down straight to the space between her thighs. I want to run my finger down that strip and tease her until she begs me to touch her where she needs it.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
One of her hands moves slowly up and down her thigh, her nails tickling the flesh. Higher and higher she moves. My own talons scrape the skin above my bulging gland, toying with the throbbing bulge which holds my release.
“Touch yourself, beautiful girl,” I groan as her legs fall open wide and her hand dips between them.
I have excellent night vision, which allows me to fly at night, but right now it’s being used to hone in on the needy little bud of pleasure that my girl is gently caressing.
Her back lifts off the bed slightly as she rubs small circles on her clit.
“Are you thinking of me? Do you wish it was my tongue and not your fingers? Would you cream for me like a good girl?”
She can not hear me. I am not delusional. But if a man does not practice his dirty talk then he will get rusty. Practice is always good… right?
My fingers wrap back around my lengths, one large palm sliding up and down both cocks. I lean down and spit on them, letting my own saliva slick them, but wishing it was the sweet desire of her cunt instead.
We move together, writhe together, our pleasure builds together. And just as heat begins to build at the base of my spine, she stops. I stop. Everything stops. She leans across her bed, opening the bottom drawer of her nightstand. And what she retrieves from inside that drawer changes everything.