Chapter 2
Clara
The hot water envelopes my cold, sore body.
A moan escapes my lips as I sink further into the silky water.
I left the bathroom door open, so the only light is the orange flickering coming from the dying fire in the bedroom.
I should add more logs, I think to myself sleepily.
The idea that firewood is no longer an issue fills my heart with joy.
I will not be freezing to death tonight.
I watch the fireplace light reflect and dance off the water in the tub as I swish my hands slowly, feeling the weightlessness bring me into a sense of calm, finally.
My mind wanders, images coming to me. The bad memories are there, always, but now my brain is occupied by something new.
Something that terrifies and excites me.
I sit up suddenly in the water, hugging my knees, watching the glowing embers of the dying fire.
I think about his thick cock hanging between his legs, his golden eyes filled with concern, those dark, lush lips.
I sink back into the water, closing my eyes.
What would those lips feel like on me? My brain obeys, bringing images of his soft lips trailing my neck, nuzzling down to my breast.
My hand resting on my stomach filters down slowly, seeking the warmth that grows between my legs.
I haven’t touched myself like this in years.
Since before Mark. Mark forbade it, going as far as to say he considered it cheating.
The sensation of my fingers clumsy against my clit takes me out of my fantasy.
I have forgotten myself, forgotten the joys of self-pleasure.
I close my eyes again, trying to focus. I imagine my hand caressing Asterion’s thick shaft, soft hair brushing my knuckles.
The warmth between my legs fades, leaving me cold in the tub. I sigh to myself. Fuck.
???
LATER, AFTER I tuck myself into bed and watch the glowing coals, I remember Mark and his face.
All I can recall now is his anger and constant embitterment.
The disappointment was etched with every action of mine.
Pressing my spine into the kitchen counter, every bone on fire as he shouts in my face about not putting his car keys in the key dish. The fucking car keys.
My head is sore, so I turn over, hoping for a spot on the pillow with less pressure, and will myself to sleep.
The dreams come fast, the familiar highlight reel of every slap, gut punch, screamfest that Mark had the audacity to bestow upon me during our nine-year marriage.
The way he smiled at family events, his arm protectively around my waist at all times, the smile never quite reaching his eyes, his fingers at the ready to pinch me in the rib at a moment's notice for some imagined transgression of mine.
My dream shifts, and I’m clutching Asterion's horns, his mouth nuzzled deeply into my cunt, his long black tongue deep inside me, eating me like a starving man.
His strong arms hold my buttocks in a tight grip, claws digging at my hips.
I cry out with unrestrained pleasure, legs spread wide proudly, feet hooked around his powerful thighs, urging him deeper.
I can feel it, the growing orgasm just on the brink.
I buck against his mouth like a wild woman, not caring what he sees, hoping he sees it all.
“Lie down,” I command, and he immediately obeys, those deep golden eyes locked onto mine as I straddle his face, riding against his mouth, begging for more.
How can his tongue be so impossibly long and thick?
I worry I might suffocate him, but I can’t stop; his hand grips my waist, urging me faster.
I don’t do this, how can I be doing this?
I don’t care, I fuck his face with wild abandon, thighs quaking with pleasure, my orgasm just out of reach.
I wake suddenly, sitting up. The thick quilt falls down around my waist, exposing my breasts to the chilly air.
They immediately pucker, my nipples hard peaks.
The dream filters back to me, and I realize that I am wet between my legs, and low thrumming is still simmering somewhere deep inside me.
Did I come in my sleep? Glancing out of the window, I see it must be afternoon already. I must have slept for several hours.
Then I realize that the fire has been brought back to life, and I sense him before my eyes find him, standing by the door with a look that can only be described as pure hunger on his face.
My brain is still not fully functioning, as there is a half-second of wondering why he might be looking at me like this before it occurs to me that my bare breasts are on display for him.
The Clara of the past would have immediately snatched the quilt up, mumbled a million apologies, and ordered this monster from the room.
But the past is dead to me. I am no longer controlled by Mark.
I am in control. And the dream is still teasing me, my wetness slick between my thighs.
So, instead, I fling the quilt from the rest of my body.
There is still a chill in the air despite the fire, and it takes my breath away, gooseflesh erupting from my skin.
The urge to look away, to feel shameful, is powerful, but I resist and gaze at Asterion.
“You came back.” The words don't sound like me. They are low, needy.
He only nods and begins to step toward me.
My eyes break away from his to take in his magnificent cock.
It’s hard, and the closer he stalks closer to me, the more my breath comes in short puffs.
I want it. I want that cock. Who am I? I don’t know anymore.
My reptilian brain is taking over, and rational thought has left me.
Sex was always perfunctory, a requirement.
It was nothing I ever sought or enjoyed.
It was a duty that I had to perform, and every second of it with Mark was borderline torture.
He was a greedy lover, but a quick one, thankfully.
Our trysts never lasted longer than fifteen minutes, and I never got off. Mark never cared.
Now my body is screaming for this monster in my house, and I am tense, wound like a cat. I fear that I may actually tackle him. Instead, I extend my hand to him. He moves forward more quickly to me now, the weight of him making the floors creak.
He sits by the bed, as he has done twice before now.
I reach out and stroke his face, smooth and strong.
My fingers trace his strong brows, the ridge of his sharp cheekbones.
When I reach his horns, he actually lets out a sigh.
His eyes snap open, piercing me with that hungry look.
I gently scratch my nails along the curve of his horns, and as I do so, he has to shift on the bed, widening his legs.
I glance down to see that his cock is fully upright, with a bead of moisture leaking at the tip.
My hand freezes, and my body reacts before my mind even makes the decision.
My hand grips the base of him, and I lower my head down to suckle his cock in my mouth.
I moan with the feel of it, the thickness filling me.
Swirling my tongue around the base, I hear him shudder, smiling to myself at the thought.
I am bent over his lap, and I feel his large, calloused hand trace up my spine and pause at the base of my neck.
He lays his hand gently there, not pushing me, but I can feel his fingers flex and his claws gently scratch at me with every stroke of my mouth.
"Mmh." He reclines on one elbow, his hips rising to meet my rhythm.
When I glance up, his eyes are shut, lips parted in slack-jawed pleasure.
A furrow forms between his brows, like he's puzzling through this unfamiliar sensation.
Has anyone ever taken him like this before?
The possibility makes me throb. Every stroke leaves me slicker than I've ever been.
I redouble my efforts, drunk on this craving to unravel him completely.
Holding dominion over his monstrous length, controlling each flick of my tongue, thrums through me like lightning.
I exhale softly against his crown, cooling the flushed skin before swallowing him deep again, palm cradling the heavy weight beneath.
His hips jerk upward urgently, his powerful thighs tensing as he pushes deeper into the wet heat of my mouth with uncontrolled thrusts.
His golden eyes fly open, wide and startled, as if he can't comprehend the overwhelming pleasure crashing through him.
I keep my gaze locked on his, watching his expressions shift from shock to rapture, his lips parting on a silent cry.
My fingers tighten around the heavy weight of his balls, feeling them draw up against his body in that telltale sign.
His thick neck strains as his throat works, tendons standing out like cords beneath his dark skin, while his entire body trembles with the force of his release.
I can see his pulse hammering against his skin, veins standing out in stark relief as his cock throbs against my tongue.
His dark nipples are stiff and peaked, his powerful chest heaving with each ragged breath.
Hot come floods my mouth in thick, salty spurts, more than I expected, and I suck greedily at him, swirling my tongue to draw out every last drop.
His massive frame shudders and twitches uncontrollably beneath me, his claws digging into the bed as I gently milk the last remnants of his pleasure from him with slow, deliberate pulls of my lips.
I lean back into the pillows, panting. I am sweating now, my body alive with pent-up electricity.
I watch him as he rolls onto his side, and I fully expect his cock to begin shrinking and lower, but to my utter surprise, it’s still hard as a rock.
If anything, my mouth seems to have emboldened it, making the tip grow slightly larger than before.