Chapter 25 Scholarly Pursuits #2
Kat clicked her tongue and threw her head back, and it took all she had in her, but she eased her legs apart. His touch was there immediately, and it found exactly what he meant to express but had no word for.
“Demon women don’t have this,” he said throatily as his thumb covered it in her juices and made her shiver.
Oh, gods, Kat liked that. She panted, pressing a hand to her chest to calm her frenzied heart as he stroked and circled her. Yet her mind wouldn’t turn off the doubt. “If it’s too weird—”
“Katarina, darling, I am a demon of research. I find you fascinating.”
She lifted her head to see his hunched back again, muscles straining against his shirt. “Doesn’t this feel a little…medical?”
“It’s scholarly,” he corrected, and when he popped his head up and winked, it wasn’t like either.
A chuckle bubbled up out of her. “Don’t even think about writing a book about my nethers…”
“No, no, I’ll leave that to”—he gestured with a shoulder to the ceiling—“but I would appreciate some direction. Do you prefer this or this?”
Kat squeaked at the sudden change in direction and speed, and her head spun.
“I’ll take that as both.” He worked the two movements into a rocking technique that had her hips matching his speed. “And tell me, is this an entrance, or do humans not penetrate one another?”
Kat couldn’t help herself then, and real laughter came out, her muscles loosening and pleasure heightening. “They do,” she snickered, and then she felt pressure at said entrance, and everything tightened again. “But not me! I mean, I haven’t, not…not, yet.”
They both froze at the urgency in her voice, and Kat could have slapped herself. She’d been enjoying so much of it, she’d been comfortable, she should have just—
“No trouble, darling. This bud is exciting enough, and I have something else I’d like to try, if you’re willing?”
Wide-eyed, she peered at him over her body, hoping he wasn’t getting any ideas about any other holes.
He licked his lips. “I’d very much like to taste you, Katarina.”
“Oh, gods,” she squeaked.
His throat bobbed with a swallow, and it was perhaps the most sensual thing she’d ever seen until he lifted shimmering fingers to his mouth and lapped at them.
Azrion’s tongue swirled over the wetness until none was left.
“Delicious,” he said, “but not as satisfying as I imagine the source would be.”
How could she possibly turn him down? “Um.”
“Please?”
She gave him a single nod.
“I would appreciate a little more enthusiasm than that.”
She nodded twice.
He gripped her thighs and squeezed, but his head didn’t move. “Darling, really.” He was staring at her with so much desire that her core answered with the pulsing need to be satisfied.
A new image swam into Kat’s mind of Azrion’s face covered in her juices, herself writhing on the end of his tongue, a climax that shook the scholar’s hall and woke up all the magic of Heck. “I want you,” she said steadily, “to put your head between my legs and make me come with your tongue.”
“On your command.” Azrion dove between her legs and unstoppable and irritating tongue met as-of-yet undocumented nethers.
Kat screamed with delight. Claws pricked at her skin and fangs skimmed her folds and nub as Azrion experimented with long and short strokes, fast and slow swirls, feather-light touch and extreme pressure.
She could no longer hold back the noises she’d been fighting and gripped the edge of the desk to arch off it.
Her middle squeezed the pleasure that raked through her body as if it wanted to hold onto it forever, and an undoing threatened every inch of her skin.
“That’s it, Katarina,” he said as he came up for a breath and his hand replaced his tongue. “Fuck me, darling.”
Well, if that’s what he wanted.
Kat reached down and took him by one of his horns, the curl of it perfectly placed like a handle, and she pulled his mouth back to her center. Her second hand found his other horn, and she ground herself against his willing tongue, riding the demon’s mouth as it worshiped between her legs.
“Oh, gods, Azrion,” she called as his hands found her ass, lifted and squeezed.
She was like a stray thread, pulled taut from its stitching and about to snap.
“I’m going to—” That was all the warning he had before her climax exploded inside her and coated his tongue.
She screamed and stiffened, but he never relented.
Blinding dizziness filled her head, and then she was nothing but a puddle, collapsing on his desk with breathlessness, arms overhead, legs splayed, feet dangling, body, mind, heart spent.
The lavender lights blinked back into life one at a time, vibrating with every thump of her heart.
She was an abandoned bit of too-short thread, limp and useless in the face of any project.
And then Azrion climbed up on the desk and spooled himself around her, warm and loving as arms and legs pulled her into a ball against his chest.
“Thank you, Katarina,” he breathed hoarsely into her hair.
She could barely muster a chuckle. “You’re thanking me?”
“I’ve been wanting that for quite some time,” he admitted, voice low and sleepy. “I hope it was satisfactory.”
“Gods, yes.”
“Damn.”
She snorted. “I thought you enjoyed being praised.”
“Yes, well, I’d prefer you tell me I need loads more practice because I want nothing more than to do that to you again and again and again…”
She snuggled into his warmth and thought for the briefest wink of a star that for all the impossibility that came with what he said, she wanted that too. Again and again and again.