Chapter 18 #2
The scent gets stronger. Hotter. A low, desperate growl rumbles in my chest. Both shafts are throbbing so hard that I can see the pulse in my own peripheral vision.
“Kol.” She is standing right behind me now. “You don’t have to hide against the wall. I was trapped under you for hours. I know there’s two.”
Her small soft hand lands flat between my shoulder blades.
My entire body locks up. Both cocks thump wildly against my stomach. I am genuinely concerned they might detach from my body and try to crawl toward her on their own.
Her hand lifts off my back.
The sudden loss of contact hits like a stone to the chest. She has seen the scope of it.
She has decided. She is going to leave, and I will spend the rest of my existence with two useless, twitching, devastatingly lonely cocks and the memory of her scent burned permanently into the back of my skull.
Behind me, hide-coverings rustle.
I go still.
More rustling. The soft, unmistakable sound of hide-coverings being pulled over skin and dropped onto stone.
I turn my head slowly.
Eh-ree-kah is standing just one length behind me, bare.
The thin coverings are pooled around her bare feet. And I suddenly cannot breathe.
I have never seen her uncovered. I had not allowed myself to even imagine it. She has no thick hide anywhere. No protective scale. There is only smooth, incredibly soft skin. The dark flush of heat blooms from her delicate throat straight down to her chest.
I slowly drag my gaze down. I stare at the soft mounds lifting with her rapid, shallow breaths, the dark tips pulling tight against the cool air of the alcove.
I trace the narrow indentation of her waist. The soft, flaring curve of her hips.
And the dark, shielding triangle of fur between her trembling thighs.
She is not built for the harshness of the dust. She is built perfectly to be held.
She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Both shafts jerk so hard the thick ridges scrape together, the friction sending a sharp, agonizing shock straight up my spine.
She is trembling.
Afraid, she is afraid, stop. I nearly slam my forehead back into the stone. But then the scent hits me.
The thick, honeyed, unmistakable musk of her center rolls off her bare skin in waves so dense my mouth instantly floods with saliva. She is trembling because she...wants?
I am moving before I can think. My claws hit the stone floor and I am crawling toward her on all fours, my body dragging across the rough ground like a dying animal crawling toward water.
She does not step back.
I reach her feet. My hands close around her ankles, my fingers wrapping around the delicate bones. Eh-ree-kah sucks in a sharp breath above me.
I drag my face up the inside of her calf. Her skin is so soft it burns. I press my open mouth against the inside of her knee and her leg buckles slightly against my jaw.
Higher. The inside of her thigh. The scent is so thick here it erases every thought I have ever had. My jaw parts on pure, starving instinct and I bury my face between her thighs.
The wet, slick heat of her presses directly against my mouth and the sound that comes out of me is not Drakav.
She is soaked. Her slick is different from mine. Thinner. Sweeter. It coats my lips, my chin, drips down the hard line of my jaw. I do not waste a drop. I drag my tongue in a single, flat stroke from the bottom of her slit to the swollen bud at the top.
The taste explodes in my skull.
My cocks jump so hard my hips slam forward against empty air.
Above me, Eh-ree-kah’s hands fly into my thick mane and grip. Her fingers tangle in the dense strands, twisting, pulling, anchoring herself as her knees threaten to give out.
“Oh fuck,” she gasps. “Oh my ... Oh fuck, Kol.”
I groan against her. The vibration travels directly through her sweet slit and she cries out, her thighs clamping around my ears. I grip her hips with both claws, sheathing them as I hold her upright, and push my tongue inside her.
The wet sound of it echoes off the alcove walls.
She is tight. So tight and blazing hot and I am lost. I thrust my tongue into her in slow, deep, rolling strokes, my mouth sealed over her, drinking the water she is sharing with me like the precious hydration it is.
Every whimper she makes feeds the fire. Every tug on my mane makes both shafts throb with desperate, aching need.
I find the swollen spot at the top of her slit with the flat of my tongue and grind against it.
“Kol.” Her voice shudders above me. Her hips are rolling against my face, her body riding my mouth. “Kol, I’m going to...”
I snarl against her slit and grip her hips harder, pulling her tighter to my mouth.
She collapses against my mouth with a scream that echoes through the cavern, her thighs clamping around my skull. Her fingers yank my mane so hard it sends a bolt of raw, searing pleasure straight down my spine to the base of both shafts, just as her knees buckle.
I catch her. My claws slide from her hips beneath her thighs and I stand in a single, fluid motion, lifting her off the ground. She is limp in my arms as I carry her to the furs and lower her down onto the thick hides.
I set her on her back, her dark mane curling around her shoulders and her skin glowing with moisture and heat. When her thighs fall open, I freeze above her.
She is still wet. The glistening slick coats the swollen folds between her thighs, and the sight of it roots me to the stone.
Water is survival. Every drop is rationed, hoarded, fought over, bled for. My warriors have killed for a single mouthful.
And she is making it. For me. Her body is producing this slick, sacred abundance, and it is pooling between her soft thighs like an offering I have not bartered, bled, or earned.
I lower my head and press my open mouth against the inside of her thigh, tasting the salt and sweetness there, dragging my tongue through the wet trail of it. She shivers beneath me.
“Kol.” Her voice is soft. Steady. “Come here.”
I lift my head. She is looking up at me with dark, burning eyes and no fear. She reaches for me, her small hands curling around my jaw, and pulls me down over her body.
My chest presses against hers. The contact is so much skin, so much heat, that a tremor rips through my entire frame. Both shafts are trapped between us, throbbing against the soft, slick heat of her, and I do not know what to do with them.
I do not know what to do with any of this.
I have led armies. I have carried dying warriors in my arms. I have made decisions that ended lives and started wars.
But I have never been inside another body.
I have never had the parts to try. Every nerve ending is new and screaming and I am shaking above her like a hatchling in its first dust-storm.
Eh-ree-kah reaches between us. Her small, soft digits wrap firmly around the thicker, ridged shaft.
The sensation is so staggering that a strangled sound tears from my throat. My entire body jolts, a fresh rush of slick climbing to the tip. Her thumb drags across the dense ridges, and my hips buck.
“Easy,” she murmurs. She adjusts her grip and strokes once, slow and firm, from root to tip.
My arms buckle. I barely catch myself on my elbows. The pleasure is so sharp and foreign it feels like being stabbed. My claws punch straight through the furs and score the stone beneath.
“Eh-ree-kah.” My voice escapes strangled.
“I know.” She guides the swollen head to her entrance. The slick, scalding heat of her presses against the tip, and every muscle in my body seizes. “Push forward. Slow.”
She guides me forward, and I push.
The tight ring of her body yields, and the head slides inside.
The world ends.
The wet, consuming heat of her is so perfectly tight around the sensitive ridges that every other thought in my skull goes silent and I can only feel. A grunt punches through my chest, my arms shaking so badly the furs are vibrating beneath us.
“More,” she breathes. Her legs wrap around my hips, her heels pressing into the small of my back. “Keep going.”
I push deeper. The ridges catch against her inner walls, each one dragging through the tight heat with a friction that makes my jaw clamp shut. She gasps beneath me, her back arching.
I instantly freeze.
Terror spikes through my chest. I slam my forehead against hers, my breathing ragged. I am too big. I am hurting her.
“You’re perfect.” Her voice is ragged but fierce. She threads her fingers into my mane and rolls her hips up to meet me. “More, Kol. All of it.”
I push the rest of the way in. The wet, tight heat of her body swallows the ridged length until my hips press flush against hers.
I am fully inside her.
I cannot move. I cannot breathe. The sensation is so overwhelming that my forehead drops against the curve of her neck and a broken, shuddering breath tears out of my lungs. My glow blows out in a chaotic burst of golden light, illuminating the dust in the air around us.
She is everywhere. The heat of her. The scent of her. The wet tight grip of her body around the most sensitive part of mine.
“Move,” she whispers against my ear. Her fingers thread into my mane. “Rock your hips. Slow.”
She rolls against me and I follow her lead, my hips beginning to move in a slow, grinding rhythm.
I pull back fractionally. Push forward. The ridges drag against her inner walls and she makes a high, shattered whine that destroys me.
“Again,” she gasps. “Just like that.”
I do it again. And again. Each slow, grinding stroke teaches me something new. The angle that makes her gasp. The depth that makes her fingernails dig in. The rhythm that makes her legs tighten around my hips and pull me deeper.
The second shaft remains unseated, but the curved length of it drags hot and slick against the soft flesh of her rear with every thrust. The dual friction is devastating. Every time I drive forward, the second tip catches against the cleft of her cheeks, sending sharp, blinding shocks up my spine.