Chapter 7
Winona
An invisible gaze prickles the back of my neck. Fear floods my bloodstream. Cold shivers trickle down my spine, one after another. I take my hands off my aching breasts, scared at the untimely intrusion.
The door creaks open even though I locked it shut.
I feel the rush of air behind me as it shifts. In a flash, a tall, long shadow is spilling down my body, cocooning me in its darkness.
A startled cry leaves my mouth when I realize it’s Lord Avandair. He’s intimidatingly masculine and powerful. His tail twitches, extending toward me. Shivers trail up my leg as the tip of his tail traces the curve of my ankle, my calf, and my upper thighs.
“My lord.” I curtsy. Then wince when the scrape of my gown’s fabric against my raw, sensitive nipples sends a current of pain down to my toes.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My breasts have swollen so big since yesterday.
“Easy, Little Butterfly. I’m not here to hurt you.”
I slide back on my bare feet, answering with a slight nod. “I know.”
“Let me help you.” Lord Avandair narrows the distance between us again within a flash.
The triangular end of his tail hooks over the top of my bodice, yanking the neckline of my grown.
“I’m here to soothe your pain. Your chest hurts, doesn’t it?
I could hear your cry all the way up in my chamber. It called me to come to you.”
The evenness of his tone tells me he’s not lying. “I apologize for worrying you. You do not have to mind me, my lord. I think I will be alright.”
“Are you aware of what’s happening to you?” He shifts on his feet, inching closer to me until we’re only separated by a thin column of air.
There’s a sense of foreboding in his tone, a quiet warning that curls around my toes like invisible briars. Is there something wrong with me that I’m unaware of?
“Did I do anything to displease you, my lord? Have you laid a curse on me?”
He smooths his palm over my stiff nipples. “No, Winona. It’s not a curse.”
Without warning, he rips my bodice, freeing my breasts from the garment.
They bounce, round and soft, big enough that they spill out of Lord Avandair’s palm when he takes one in his hand and rubs the underside gently.
A sharp current of ecstasy shoots straight to my core.
Slick drips from my sex, coating my inner thighs.
Lord Avandair gives my breast a firm squeeze.
The bumpy skin of his fingers pulls a whimper from me when he starts playing with my nipple.
Every pore in my body oozes satisfaction.
His touch on me feels right. It melts away the hunger that has been eating my soul.
Since I glimpsed his proud erection and realized I had made him so horny, I have been consumed by a throbbing ache that never recedes.
I want to know what else my body can do, what other expressions I can tease out of him.
Right now, there’s pure marvel glittering in those gargoyle eyes. He massages my tit deliberately. Slowly. Until the unthinkable happens—white beads begin to ooze out of my thick, distended nipple. The drops cling to my swollen bud, getting heavier.
A sudden sense of release floats through my breast. Before I can adjust, white liquid sprays out of my tit, hitting Lord Avandair straight in the face.
The shock of spraying on Lord Avandair only intensifies my sexual arousal. There’s something so hot, and beautifully intimate about this experience that we’re sharing together. It’d be so much better if his mouth was on my sore nipple, soothing away the misery I feel. “What is—”
“Your breasts are producing milk,” he concludes.
“Milk to feed a babe?” I slap my hands against my gaping mouth. This is not what I expected.
He nods solemnly. “That’s what the herbs were for. To induce lactation. You’ll be feeding my son Grandor. He requires a wet nurse. It has been hard for him without his mother. I can’t keep giving him tonics forever.”
The edge of sadness in Lord Avandair’s voice makes my heart sink. I’ve never laid eyes on a gargoyle child but imagining any baby alone without its mother brings tears to my eyes. I’ll do whatever I can to bring some joy into that young one’s life.
“That’s what you wanted me for?” Disappointment frays my voice.
I know it’s stupid to imagine that a gargoyle as desirable and powerful as Lord Avandair would want me as anything more than a wet nurse, but I hoped.
The things that he told me that time in the woods have been stuck in my head.
He made me terrified, but he also made me feel beautiful.
I felt a special bond between us, a thin, fragile connection. As magical as a gargoyle’s charm.
“No, Little Butterfly. I want you for a lot more.” His eyes smolder as he advances toward me, his steps making loud thuds on the wooden floor.
His hands are so huge that he engulfs my back with a single paw. My body jerks, frozen with a mixture of heat and fear.
“Put that tit in my mouth and let me make you feel good,” he says. Years of suspicion and fear tug at me to deny him but the gentleness in his eyes wins out.
“Make me feel better?”
“I’m going to milk you, Little Butterfly. I’ll suckle your tits until you’re drained,” he replies. “Then you’ll be fine—until your tits fill up with milk again. When that happens, you can feed Grandor.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. The intimate spot between my legs pulsates with an electric sensation. I denied it then but I can’t deny it now. Lord Avandair’s presence makes my blood hot. My bare breasts are peppered with gooseflesh from being around him.
My tight nipples long for his forked tongue to pleasure them. To drive this maddening desire and knot of pain away from my groin.
He strokes the side of my filled tit with a barely-there touch. I shiver. “Take off your clothes, Winona. It’ll make the experience more pleasurable.”
I’d have jumped from the top of the mountain if he asked me in that smoldering tone. I can’t even think anymore. The thick, heavy lust that we both carry for each other is a living thing. It chokes us.
After I’ve peeled away all my layers of clothing, I turn around to face him. Completely bare.
I’ve never been like this for any man.
But I don’t feel shame or humiliation. Only a sense of power that I never had before.
I want Lord Avandair to keep raking me with that intense gaze of his. To keep making me feel like I’m the most arousing female in this world.
I allow him to come close to me and pull me into an embrace. It’s so safe within the tangle of his arms.
“Your curves are so pretty,” he says.
I can feel his cock growing under me, scraping against my stomach.
Lord Avandair traces my bottom lip with his thumb, the abrasive texture scraping my delicate flesh. Tingles arrow straight to my pussy. It clenches with need. “I’m about to go insane from the need to kiss those lips. It’s all I’ve thought about since you set foot in Slate Manor.”
“My lord.” My inner walls squeeze in desperation.
His words feed my arousal. My core beats with a fierce need to be joined to him, to sheathe his splendid, ripe cock in my wet softness.
To be filled with him until I’m satiated from the experience.
When Lord Avandair is near me, it’s like I’m on fire.
Something’s just right. Our bodies pull each other’s like magnets.
It is time I surrendered to the maddening attraction.
I raise myself to my tiptoes, not caring whether he thinks I’m a whore for responding to his affections.
I want to be his whore. To experience the ultimate fantasy of being mated with a gargoyle.
Lord Avandair’s lips skim over mine, up and down, inciting an agony between my thigh. I want more. I need more. I want him to dominate my mouth completely, show me how hot this passion can burn.
After moments of torturing me, he finally takes my face between his palms and possesses my lips. Blood rushes to my ears, blotting away every sound except the dull beat of my heart.
Through our connected mouths, I sense his urgency. His tongue is smooth yet hard, the perfect texture. He claims me, lavishing me with strokes of pleasure until I’m swooning.
When my knees knuckle under me, he picks up my body with his powerful arms and throws me onto the bed.
I lie on my back, waiting. For my mate to claim me.
“I’m going to fill your plump body with my heirs.” He climbs over me, his wings flapping, his gaze dark with primal intentions. “You’re going to be breathtaking when your belly is stretched with a baby and your tits are dripping milk all over your pregnant stomach.”
Shudders course down my spine at the image he’s painting. I lay a hand on my flat stomach. I can already feel my womb bulging with his growing seed. My whole body sighs in delight picturing him running his big hands over my bump, licking the cream off my leaking buds.
“Give me your seed,” I beg. My womb feels empty without my mate’s cum flooding it.
I don’t dare voice my thoughts, afraid he’ll think me foolish for imagining myself as his mate. “Ah!” My body twitches as I feel the fleshy, triangular edge of his tail teasing the wet folds of my sex.
“Lie back and enjoy what I’m going to give you, Winona.” He lays his tongue flat on my leaking bud, mopping away the ivory droplets that I sprayed on myself. “I’ll make you come with my tail first so you’re prepared for my knot.”
His mouth settles over my breast. His tail inches higher up my leg, flirting with the swollen nub of my clitoris.
I’ve heard how much pleasure women can get when this part is stimulated.
And the legends were true—a flood of gratification pulls me under me when he strokes the most sensitive part of me.
On my tit, his mouth sucks hungrily, inducing me to release all my supply. Stream after steam of cream pours into his mouth and he drinks every drop. All the while, his forked tongue saws over my nipple, lashing my sore tip with pleasure.