When the tension left her neck and shoulders as she slumped back against the table, he finally began to move in her. The mortifying sounds that left her, both her mouth and her impossibly wet pussy, would have been enough for her to put a hit out on anyone who overheard. She was whining, writhing, saying his name over and over again as he purred and fucked her with his fingers and licked at her.
So much sensation, so much pleasure. The way he kept looking at her from beneath his fringe of lashes, every glance both an insatiable warning that he could not stop and a plea with her not to make him.
It wasn’t enough. His fingers popped free with a wet sound and a painful emptiness that she objected to, but he just shoved her knees back toward her shoulders.
“Hold them,” he grated, letting go.
She didn’t catch on fast enough, her legs easing back down as he released them, and he growled a warning as he shoved them back up again.
“Hold them.” He demanded again, pinning her with a hard look.
She slid her hands behind her knees, her face flaming as she held herself open as wide as she could for him. No one had ever done anything like this to her. Most of the fucking in her life had been with her face in the pillow. This was… something else.
He knelt back down, and she expected it when his fingers pressed back into her and his mouth returned to her clit, but she tensed with surprise as his tail pressed against the slick ring of her ass. It rolled in the excess wetness that had slid down between her cheeks before it began to demand entrance.
“Rentir, wait.” She panted, tensing hard. “I-I’ve never?—”
“Let me in,” he said, looking up at her from between her thighs, painting his cheek in her slick. “I want everything.”
She hesitated, her face flaming, imagining everything that could go wrong with that particular venture.
“You told me to take it,” he reminded her, rubbing his other cheek over her oversensitive flesh. “Have you changed your mind?”
She swallowed hard. “No, but…”
His tail pressed harder, nearly managing to pierce her anxiously tight muscle. She whined, toes curling at the intrusion. His free hand slid under her shirt, and then his fingers were pinching the hard nub of her nipple. She tensed and relaxed under the pleasure, and that moment of relaxation was all his tail needed to burrow deeper. Pain, pressure, and pleasure blended together.
He moved too soon, but slowly and gently, and every thrust made her groan as she tried to decide if she loved it or hated it. In spite of the strangeness, she could feel herself building toward another climax. Her scalp tingled, and her eyes watered, vision hazy either from tears or delirium. Her body was both numb andthrumming as all sensation tunneled to the friction between her thighs.
She had never been so full before. Her vision flickered like burned film for a moment as her muscles involuntarily bore down around Rentir, squeezing him so hard she felt him struggling to move. Then she was coming again on a scream of surprise at the blinding intensity of it. She had one hand fisted in his hair and the other gripping the smooth curves of his horn, his instructions forgotten under the onslaught of pleasure.
He came a moment later, both hands still on her body, spilling into his pants without even a touch. She knew it by the ragged, desperate sound he made, all his attentions pausing as he pressed his face into her and his body shuddered between her thighs. He sagged against her for a long moment, catching his breath, each little puff tickling her inner thigh.
She couldn’t move. Everything that should have been solid bone and tendon was reduced to jelly.
But Rentir moved. He was shining from his nose to his chin, the skin pinkened and chafed from how long he’d been bathing in her. His tail and his fingers slid out of her, and he looked down at the glistening slick that clung to his fingers as he spread them. She flushed with embarrassment at the sight of the mess, but he slid his sticky hand up under his shirt and rolled his eyes back as he painted his chest with it.
She made a strangled noise of surprise, and he opened his eyes, holding her gaze as he ran the fingers of his other hand through her soaked, spent flesh. He didn’t look away as he slathered it over his throat.
“Yours,” he breathed.
Her pussy throbbed at the declaration.
CHAPTER 41
Relief sangin Rentir’s veins as he looked up at Cordelia, more beautiful than she’d ever been, with sweat plastering her fine hairs to her flushed cheeks and tracks of tears still shining on her temples. She stared down at him incredulously, her chest still heaving with wild breaths.
Her scent was everywhere now. After days of agonizing deprivation, he was covered in her, just as he should be. No one would have any doubt of who he belonged to—who belonged to him in turn.
He tamped down on that thought, shaking his head hard to clear it.
No, that wasn’t right. She was still angry with him, wasn’t she? But she’d let him…
Was it too much to hope that something had changed in her capitulation?
“Cordelia,” he rasped, leaning back and easing her legs closed. She let out a little hiss of pain, shifting to get comfortable. “Did I hurt you?”
Panic gripped his heart at the thought.
