Chapter Twenty – Osric
Chapter Twenty
Osric
Esme’s fingernails dig into my shell. She scratches over the plates on my back until her fingers catch in the seams between them.
Her pussy is so tight around my cock that every thrust drags a rough sound out of my chest. I’m fucking her fast and hard, hard enough to rock her whole body through the dust. I can’t slow down.
I know I’m being rough. I know it, and I keep going.
I catch her wrists and pin them to the ground above her head, holding both in one hand while my other hand grips her hip and pulls her onto my cock.
My fingers press too deep into her soft skin.
She’ll bruise. She’ll wear the marks of my hands on her hips and her wrists, and I hate that I can’t stop.
I did everything I knew to make her ready for this.
I licked her pussy until she came on my tongue.
I coated her in my saliva, because my saliva opens her, softens her, and prepares her body to take me without pain.
It was the last thing I did while I could still think.
There’s no more thinking now, no more restraint.
There is only Esme beneath me, Esme around me, Esme clinging to me while I take what my body has been dying for.
She’s soaked. I hear it with every stroke, wet and loud between us, her slickness and my own running down my cock and spreading over her thighs. Her taste is still on my tongue, and I want it again already, want to eat her and drink her while my cock aches for her.
Everything narrows down to her body under mine, her cunt gripping me, the drive to bury myself in her again and again.
She’s hot inside and so tight that every thrust drags her grip along the whole length of my cock, from the slick tip to the base.
The smooth plates of it slide against her walls, and she moans at the drag of them, a low broken sound that she makes each time I pull back, and each time I push home.
I feel everything: her wet cunt, her thighs shaking against my hips, the heat of her skin against mine, every point where our bodies press together.
Every thrust shakes her breasts, her nipples hard and dark against her pale skin.
When I lower my head and pull one into my mouth, she cries out and clamps down on me so hard that I nearly spill into her right there.
I suck her nipple, drag my tongue over it, move to the other and do it again.
Her pussy answers every pull of my mouth with another squeeze.
Her breasts are swollen, heavy in my hand when I cup one.
She pushes herself into my palm and begs me not to stop.
She’s my first. I never wanted a female who wasn’t mine.
I saved myself for my fated mate without ever knowing whether she existed.
I chose an empty bed over a body that wasn’t hers, and I never regretted it.
Now she’s here. She’s soft, hot, and tight around my cock, crying out under me, and I need no teaching.
My body wants to fuck her, wants to claim her, wants to mate her, and it’s doing all three at the same time.
I release her wrists, and her arms come around my neck.
I slide my hand under her ass and lift her into my thrusts, changing the angle, driving deeper.
She wails and digs her heels into the backs of my thighs.
She’s stretched around me to her limit. She takes all of it.
She lifts her hips to meet every stroke.
“More,” she gasps against my jaw. “Please. Don’t stop.”
I couldn’t stop now even if she begged me to.
It’s a good thing she’s begging for the opposite.
I grip her ass with both hands and pull her up off the ground, holding her weight while I fuck her.
She hangs on to my neck and lets me move her body at the pace the rut sets, lets me use her, gives herself over to it with her head thrown back and her throat bared.
She’s a soft human female in the arms of the most dangerous creature in Otheera, and she gives me her throat.
That trust arouses me more than her cunt does.
I lay her back down in the dust, because I need to see her face. Her mouth is open. She looks into my black eyes while I drive into her.
Esme clings to me, screaming, begging, breaking open beneath me.
She begs for more, begs me not to stop, and then begs without words when the words run out.
I understand every sound she makes. The rut has tuned my senses to her, to her scent, her voice, to her desire.
There’s no pain anywhere in her. She screams because it’s good.
She begs because she wants more of me, and her pleasure pours into me and becomes my own, doubling everything, driving me deeper into the rut.
Every time her pussy squeezes my cock, I feel it through my whole body.
I slide closer to losing what little mind I have left.
I grind into her, deep and slow for a few strokes, my body pressed against her clit, and she chokes on a moan and pulls at my shoulders.
Her scent sharpens, and I know what it means: she’s close.
She tightens around me, a flutter starting deep inside her.
My hips speed up on their own, fast and hard again.
She claws at my back and lifts into every thrust, wanting more. Her wanting makes mine worse.
She’s glassy-eyed, her red hair tangled in the dust, and sweat shines on her throat and between her breasts.
I lick the line of her throat and taste the salt of her skin.
Her taste pulls a snarl out of me that she answers with a moan.
Her voice is hoarse from screaming. I register nothing beyond her body and mine.
My tail rises over my head.
I don’t decide it. The tail lifts on its own, the stinger curving down, swaying above her, searching her body for the perfect place. Venom beads at the tip and drips onto her chest.
Esme sees it. She watches the stinger move above her, and fear shows on her face, plain and honest. Of course she’s scared.
She knows what my venom does to humans, and she chose this anyway.
But her face is flushed dark with lust, her lips are swollen from my mouth, her hips keep rolling up to meet mine, and her arms stay locked around my neck.
She’s desperate, lust-drunk, and frightened.
She doesn’t let go of me. She holds on harder.
I press my mouth to hers and kiss her, deep and slow, while my hips keep driving into her. Against her lips, I say:
“I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be.” Her voice shakes. “This is fate. It’s beyond us. It needs to happen.”
My voice breaks. “What if I kill you?”
“You won’t.”
She takes my face between her hands and makes me look at her. Her palms are hot against my skin. She doesn’t waver.
I hold her gaze as my stinger sinks into her side, between her ribs.
I feel it go in. I feel her skin give, feel the stinger seat itself deep, and then my venom pours out of me and into her in long, hot pulses that I can’t slow and can’t stop. Each pulse is pulled from me the same way my cum will soon be, and each one binds her closer to me.
Esme screams.
The sound goes through me, and I’m certain she’s dying while I’m still inside her. The thought almost pulls me out of the rut.
Then her pussy gushes around my cock.
She arches off the ground. Her cunt flutters and squeezes me in waves, wetness flooding between us.
The scream breaks apart into moans as the orgasm tears through her body.
She convulses under me, around me, her nails cutting into my shoulders.
My name is somewhere inside the sounds spilling out of her.
I come hard. I bury myself as deep as our bodies allow it, and spill everything I have into her, my cock pulsing, my body emptying into hers in wave after wave, while her pussy milks every drop out of me.
The release goes on and on, until my arms shake and the rut’s heat finally drains out of my blood.
The stinger slides out of her skin, and my tail sinks down behind me, spent, dragging in the dust.
We stay locked together, my cock still inside her, her legs still around me.
Esme trembles in my arms. Small, constant tremors run through her.
Her skin has gone damp and cool under my hands, and I don’t know whether that’s the orgasm or the venom working through her blood.
Her breathing is fast and shallow against my throat.
She’s alive right now, and I don’t let myself think further ahead than that.
I gather her against my chest and cradle her there, careful, more careful than I’ve been with anything in my life.
I’m terrified to move. I’m terrified to look at her side, at the wound between her ribs where my stinger went in, terrified of what the skin around it might look like.
I’m terrified to find out whether fate saved her or doomed her.
I curl my body around hers, arms tight, my mouth pressed to her hair. I hold her in the dust as if she’s the most precious thing in the world, because to me, she is.