Chapter 11 #2
My sartras, already hard and leaking seed because of her nakedness despite my attempts to remind them this was not the proper time for such a reaction, pushed against my slit. “Hazel…” I breathed.
She moved my hand from her heart to her breast and smiled. Her expression was still fierce, but her eyes were full of love. “Yes, my shelshan?”
Goddesses, was I so stubborn and foolish that I would waste time arguing with my mate when I could be obeying her wishes?
I swept her back into my arms and fairly flew across the stone floor into the pool, sending a wave of hot water over the edge and halfway across the cave.
“That floor needed cleaning anyway,” I said, and kissed my lovely mate.
Her laugh into my mouth made my hearts sing.
As tender and gentle as our first mating had been, hunger took possession of us both and made slow caresses and lingering kisses feel impossible. I needed her more than I needed air or the warmth of the sun.
I settled my coils in the deepest part of the pool, pressed my back to the edge, and sat Hazel astride my body below my slit. Her chest heaved in a way that was utterly mesmerizing.
“Show me what to do,” she said, her eyes fixed on the dark line that was growing wider by the moment.
“Just touch me,” I pleaded. “Everything you do pleases me.”
She placed her hands on my scales on either side of my slit and gently pressed.
My sartras were so engorged and emerged so quickly that a wave of dizziness made the cavern spin. “Shelshi,” I groaned.
“You are beautiful,” she said, already reaching for my sartras. “So beautiful, Terolon.”
Stars burst across my vision and my hips undulated as she stroked both cocks in tandem, her fingers not meeting around their girth. Her hands slid easily up and down through the slick that coated them, over the textured breeding rings on the larger shaft and the nubs on the lower one.
All the fear and worry of the past three days faded. Hazel gazed up at me with lust-filled eyes and murmured my name over and over again as she stroked.
I caressed all her beautiful scales before I turned my attention to her lovely breasts and her sweet dusky nipples that made me salivate.
When she bent toward my sartras and licked her lips, I nearly came out of my scales.
“May I?” she asked, her eyes on mine.
“Please,” I grated out. “My shelshi.”
Slowly, she dragged her little pink tongue around the head of my upper sartra before swirling it over the small slit on its tip. I shuddered hard and a spurt of seed landed on her tongue.
“Oh,” she gasped and immediately licked her lips. “So sweet,” she said, licking her lips again. “Can I have more?”
Goddesses take me, my mate fully intended to kill me in this hot spring. “Yes,” I managed to say.
Smiling, she bent her head to lick me again. And again.
And when her hand slid up and down my lower sartra at the same moment she sucked the head of my upper shaft into her mouth, my seed pouch squeezed, my vision tunneled, and my coils writhed, sending another wave of water across the cave floor.
“Hazel,” I rasped, my hands in her hair to gently pull her away before I lost control. “My love. Stop now, or I will not be able to please you as I want to.”
She gave each of my sartras a last lick before sitting up, looking quite pleased with herself.
She squeaked when I lifted her by the waist. I leaned back until my head rested on the edge of the pool and positioned her dripping pink folds over my mouth.
“Terolon,” she gasped, staring down at me with her knees on the stone ledge and her hands braced on mine for balance. “What are you doing?”
“Feasting,” I said, and pulled her down to my lips.
I thrust my tongue into her, swirled it inside her channel, and drank her sweetness directly from the source.
She threw her head back and wailed, her nails digging into my hands. And when my tongue found the little textured area just inside and stroked back and forth over it, her cries raised in pitch and volume, filling the cavern.
My love clung to my hands and rode my face in ways I hoped to relive in my dreams, taking her pleasure and moaning my name mixed with pleas and words of gratitude.
As tension built in her body, I doubled my efforts, driving her closer to her release and anticipating a deluge of the sweet arousal that covered my lips and chin and dripped down my neck.
When she broke, it was glorious.
“Tero,” she screamed, writhing in my grasp as her channel rippled and squeezed around my tongue. Her juices squirted out to cover my face like the heavens had opened to grant a summer rain to a parched field.
When she slumped in my grasp, her hands on the stone floor above my head, I held her by the waist and moved her back down my body.
I kissed my way up her abdomen until I could draw first one hard nipple into my mouth and then the other.
She clung to me, gasping for breath and trembling so hard that I would have been alarmed if I hadn’t known it was pleasure and not cold or fear that made her shake.
She slid farther down my chest, kissing my face, my nose, my lips, tasting herself on my scales. I lost myself in her sweet kisses and caresses until I realized she’d poised herself astride my upper sartra and was reaching to position it at her entrance.
“Hazel, no,” I warned, holding her still so she couldn’t sink onto me. “I haven’t prepared you.”
“I know.” She tugged one of my hands free and pressed a kiss to my palm.
“But I have a theory about what else has changed while I slept. I feel…different.” Her cheeks turned a pretty pink when she gestured between her thighs.
“I’d like to see if I’m right, my love. If I’m wrong, I’ll say so, I promise. ”
Reluctantly, I held my upper shaft steady and let her wrap her hand around it too as she lowered herself onto its slick, leaking tip.
Slowly, carefully, she sat on the head of my sartra, and I watched in trepidation and awe as her folds parted and stretched to take me. There could not be a more erotic and captivating sight in all the goddesses’ creation.
It took all my strength not to thrust or try to bury myself inside my sweet mate more quickly than she could take me. At any moment, I expected to hear a whimper of pain or see her flinch or for her to change her mind and ask for my fingers.
Instead, one gasping breath at a time, my sweet mate took my sartra to the first wide breeding ring and then rocked her hips gently until the ring slipped inside all at once. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she moaned, a low, guttural sound that made both my shafts spurt seed.
“Goddess,” I breathed.
The medical texts had said nothing about the metamorphosis enabling a human female to more easily accommodate her mate’s sartras. Perhaps I should send word anonymously and inform them of the oversight.
But this sight—this pleasure, this feeling of being taken into my mate’s body without any discomfort for her—belonged to us alone.
And then she was bracing her hands on my chest and taking more of me, dropping farther and rocking her hips with little mewls and cries of bliss.
I thrust up gently to help, my gaze moving between her rapturous expression and my sartra, dripping with our combined slickness, stretching and filling my mate until all three breeding rings had disappeared.
Gasping and whimpering, she fell forward, bracing her palms on my chest. “Terolon,” she said, and pulled me in for a kiss. “Shelshan,” she whispered against my lips. “Shelshan. Are you mine forever?”
“Yes,” I rasped. I held her shaking body steady so I could commit every detail of this moment to memory, from how she looked stretched around my breeding rings to her blue eyes wide and wild with lust and desire. “Am I yours, my light?” I asked.
“Forever,” she vowed, and rocked her hips. We both groaned as she took me a little deeper, to the point the crown of my sartra met resistance at the entrance to her womb. “Forever, my love,” she gasped.
With my hands on her hips to guide her, Hazel rode my sartra slowly, rising and falling with her feet on my coils for leverage.
I let her set the pace, still worried that it was too much too fast, but when she began to move more quickly and every sound she made was a cry of pleasure, I moved in tandem, rising with my hips and pulling her down so our bodies collided with each drop.
Lost in my own haze of pleasure, I watched my beautiful mate find the angle and rhythm that drove her toward her second release. Holding back my own took concentration, but I would never finish before she was satisfied. Seeing her undone was worth more than any of my own pleasure.
“Terolon,” she gasped, her nails digging into my arms as my rings began to swell. They dragged along her channel, turning my vision to a kaleidoscope of lantern light and my mate’s blue and amber eyes. “Goddess,” she breathed. “Are you going to fill me now, shelshan?”