Chapter 7 #2
He ate me like a man starved, with no hurry and no mercy.
He licked me in long, broad strokes, the flat of that tongue dragging up from where I was drenched, circling my clit again and again, learning what pulled the loudest sounds out of me and then doing only that.
When he closed his lips around it and sucked, my heels dug into the muscle of his back, and a sob ripped out of me.
One huge hand splayed flat over my belly and pinned me to the bed when my hips tried to buck up off it. I wasn't going anywhere. He held me open and feasted. The room filled up with the filthy wet sound of his mouth on me and the broken noises I couldn't keep behind my teeth.
Then he pushed one thick, blunt finger into me, slowly, while his tongue stayed working, and even that was almost too much, the drag of it stretching me as it sank in to the knuckle.
He curled it, found a place inside me that made my whole body jolt, and stroked there in time with his mouth.
The stretch and the suck and that deep relentless pressure stacked one on top of the other until I was clenching around him, thighs shaking, chanting his name, understanding with hysterical clarity exactly how hard the rest of him was going to ruin me.
Nobody had ever done this to me like it was the point. Like getting me off was the whole event and not the toll on the road to his own.
I fisted one hand in the blanket and got the other around the base of his horn, I couldn't help it, my hand just went, and the second I gripped it he groaned into me, deep, and the vibration buzzed straight up through my sex and lit the fuse.
I came on his tongue, hard, my spine wrenching off the bed, my thighs clamping around his head and my body clamping around his finger. He didn't let up. He licked me through every pulse and aftershock, gentling only when I was wrung out and twitching and pushing weakly at his head.
He lifted it. His mouth was wet with me, his eyes gone molten, and he looked, of all the impossible things, like he was about to be noble about it.
"That's enough," he said, rough. "You came. That can be where it ends. You don't owe me—"
"Don't you dare."
I sat up and got both hands around the base of his horns, below the caps, all that warm, rigid weight filling my palms, and the full-body shudder that went through him nearly put him on the floor. His eyes fell shut. His breath punched out of him.
So that was a thing worth knowing. I used it, dragging him up the length of me by the horns until his face hung over mine.
"I did not climb into your lap to stop here," I said. "You're going to give me the rest of it. All of it."
Whatever was left of the decent, disciplined man went out of his eyes.
He came up over me, braced on a forearm, and notched the broad blunt head of his cock against me. And even then, even gone, he went slow.
He pushed into me by degrees, thick and blunt and relentless, so much of him that I felt every inch of the stretch, my body giving around him in a burn that bled straight into something better.
I felt the flared head of him part me, then the thick shaft of him following, dragging at swollen nerves the whole way, filling me past anywhere I'd been filled before.
He watched my face the whole time, holding still each time my breath stuttered, sinking another slow inch into me only when I rocked down greedy for more.
"I've got you," he said, ragged. "That's it. Take it. Take all of me." When he was finally seated to the hilt, so deep I couldn't breathe around it, we both held there, shaking, his forehead dropped to mine.
Then he drew back and drove home, and I stopped being able to think.
He fucked me slow and deep, dragging nearly all the way out until just the head of him stretched me and then sinking back to the root, every thrust forcing a sound out of me.
I felt all of him, the drag and the stretch and the blunt nudge of him hitting something so deep it turned my voice to nothing.
Somewhere in it the last of his control burned away and something older took him, something that had been pacing behind his ribs for weeks, and it drove into me like it had every denied night to make up for.
His tail brushed my thigh, warm, hitching my leg up over his hip so he could grind in even deeper, never pinning me.
He bottomed out against something that punched the air out of me, and I could feel the slick of us where we were joined, could hear it, the slap of his hips meeting mine getting harder and faster as he came apart.
He pounded into me, and the words started spilling out of him against my throat, my jaw, my mouth, low and wrecked.
"Mine." Like it was torn out of him. "Tell me you feel that. Tell me you're mine."
I couldn't say it. I wanted to say it so badly that my eyes stung.
"I'll keep you." He hooked a hand under my hips and tilted me up into every thrust, and now every stroke dragged the thick head of him over a spot that whited out the room.
"I'll keep you right here. I'll keep you full, I'll keep you safe, and nobody is taking you off this planet. You hear me? Mine."
They were promises he had no right to make.
Tomorrow there was a transport, a record, a woman with gold eyes, and not one of those things was within his power to stop. Every man who'd ever wanted me had wanted me right up until the cost came due. I knew all of it. I knew it in my bones.
And with him buried in me to the root, and his promises breaking against my skin, and his horns under my hands, I wanted to believe him so badly I could have wept.
The pressure wound tighter and tighter with every drive of his.
That spot inside me was lit up raw, his cock dragging over it again and again until there was nowhere left to go.
I held on and let go at once, and came apart around him so hard it tore a sob out of me, my body clamping down on the thick length of him in waves while he kept fucking me through every clench.
And almost, almost, I gave him the word he was begging for.
He went over a thrust later with a roar half-buried in my hair, slamming deep and grinding there as he spilled, his cock pulsing inside me, the heat of him flooding deep, my name and that one word, mine, breaking out of him.
For the length of it, the long, bright, unspooling length of it, I believed every word he'd said.