In His Coils
Aubrey
My heart races asI step into Sundar’s private apartment. It’s spacious and elegantly furnished, decorated with art and antiques that hint at his centuries of life. But that’s not why I’m breathless. It’s the man—no, the naga—before me, his golden eyes darkened with an intensity I’ve never seen from him before.
“Sundar, I—” But I’m silenced by his tail coiling around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His hard, sculpted chest presses against mine, and his scent—rich earth and smoke—floods my senses.
His hand tilts my chin up, and he studies me. “Aubrey.” My name is a rumble in his chest. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
My throat is dry. “Show me.” It’s a dare, a plea, and he accepts.
Our kiss is like lightning, sudden and electrifying. His forked tongue slips into my mouth, exploring, claiming. A gasp escapes me, and his grip tightens. We break apart, breathing heavily. “Say you’re mine,” he says.
I am. I always have been. But saying it out loud feels monumental. Like the words will change the fabric of reality. Maybe they will.
My arms wrap around his neck, fingers brushing over his flared hood. “Yours,” I whisper. “Completely yours.” And it’s the truth.
Sundar’s response is immediate. He scoops me up, cradling me in his powerful arms as he carries me to his bedroom. His strength is intoxicating; the ease with which he lifts me, the confident sway of his tail as he moves, the gleam in his eyes that promises protection and passion in equal measure. I revel in the feeling, clinging to him as he lays me down on his massive bed, his body hovering over mine.
The room is dim, illuminated only by a single lamp on the nightstand, yet the soft amber glow is more than enough to appreciate his stunning masculine form, his muscles flexing beneath his scaled skin, his eyes roaming hungrily over my flushed, eager face.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and the sincerity in his voice makes me tremble. No one has ever called me beautiful with such conviction before, and certainly not a creature as magnificent as him.
Slowly, reverently, Sundar undresses me, peeling away layers of clothing to reveal my bare skin beneath. I shiver as his large, deft fingers caress the curve of my hips, then the swell of my breasts. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure racing along my nerves, and when his hot mouth closes around a sensitive nipple, I arch up against him with a sharp cry.
But even as he worships my body, Sundar’s own desires become increasingly evident as he quickly removes his own clothes. Soon I see him without his vest or sash, and the sight makes my heart stutter.
His muscled torso leads to the sleek, serpentine tail of his lower body, and nestled at the apex of his hips is a bulge that grows larger and firmer with each passing second. Whatever is hidden there is going to push me to my limit, that much is clear, and I’m simultaneously terrified and desperate to experience it.
“Is that…” I try to ask, but words fail me.
“Is it too much?”
“No. Of course not.” I’m breathless now. “I want to see.”
Obliging, Sundar draws back, and from his sheath emerges his enormous, tapered cock. It’s thicker than my wrist at its base, and ridged with raised bumps that promise delicious friction. It’s smooth and black, the same shade as his scales, and the tip is slightly flared, glistening with a clear substance that makes me swallow hard.
“Mine,” he repeats, and his possessiveness should scare me. Instead, I’m thrilled. He’s so sure of himself, of his power, and I crave that confidence like I’ve never craved anything else before.
He’s the anchor in the storm of my life, the safe harbor where I can surrender to sensation and emotion without fear of losing myself. And that’s what I do now, giving in to the tidal wave of need that sweeps through me at the sight of his arousal on display for the first time.
“Touch me,” I beg, and he does. One massive hand cups my breast, squeezing and kneading, while the other slides between my thighs to stroke my pussy. He circles my clit with his thumb, coaxing whimpers and moans from my lips, and then, without warning, he pushes two thick fingers deep inside me.
I cry out, bucking up against his palm, and he chuckles again. “Eager, aren’t you?” he teases, and I can only nod frantically. Yes, I’m eager. Eager to feel him inside me, stretching me wide, claiming me in every way a monster can claim a woman.
He withdraws his fingers and I whine at the loss, but he’s not done with me yet. With a wicked smile, he brings his hand to his mouth and licks my juices. The sight of him savoring my taste nearly drives me mad.
“Delicious,” he pronounces, and I feel a fresh flood of wetness between my legs.
“I… I want to taste you now,” I say, unsure where this boldness is coming from.
His eyes widen, then he nods and moves up my body until he’s poised above me, his pulsating cock level with my lips. I stare up at him, panting, and he runs a finger along my cheekbone.
“Open,” he coaxes, and I obey instantly, parting my lips and extending my tongue. He wastes no time in feeding his length into my mouth, letting me suck and lick at the first few inches of his impressive girth. His taste is unlike anything I’ve ever known—a rich, smoky sweetness that ignites a fire in my stomach.
He lets me worship him for several long minutes, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he fucks my mouth. Soon enough, I’m moaning around him, my own pleasure mounting as I surrender to his mastery of my body. And just as the tension within me threatens to boil over, he pulls away, leaving me gasping and aching for release.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, stroking my hair. “I want to feel you coming around my cock.”
