“Perfect,” he murmurs, settling between my spread thighs. “Absolutely perfect.”
His hands glide upward, stroking the sensitive skin of my inner legs, spreading me wider, and I’m quivering with anticipation and need.
“Have you ever—” he starts, then pauses. “Has anyone ever used their mouth on you before?”
“Once,” I admit. “It was… fine.”
His smile is predatory. “Then let me ruin you for anyone else.”
When his mouth finds my most sensitive flesh, I nearly come apart immediately. He starts with long, slow licks that make myback arch off the bed, then uses the tip of his tongue to circle my clit with maddening precision.
“Oh God,” I gasp, hands fisting in his hair. “Ryder, that’s—oh!”
He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my system. His tongue’s texture is slightly rougher than a human’s, creating friction that’s absolutely devastating. He explores every fold, every sensitive place, with the patience of someone who has all the time in the world.
When he carefully uses the very tip of his tusk to trace my inner thigh—close enough to my center to make me shudder, but not quite touching—I nearly sob from the exquisite torture.
“Please,” I’m begging now, too far gone to care. “Please, I need—”
“I know what you need, Sunshine.” His voice vibrates against my core, making me whimper. “Let go for me. Let me taste how good I make you feel.”
He seals his lips around my clit and sucks while his tongue works devastating magic, and I shatter. The orgasm crashes over me with a force I’ve never experienced—waves of pleasure that seem to go on forever as he works me through every pulse and tremor.
I’m still floating in the aftermath when he kisses his way back up my body, lips and tusks leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reaches my mouth, I can taste myself on him—dark and intimate and perfect.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips. “So fucking beautiful when you come for me.”
He gently strokes my sides with tender reverence as I float down from the peak. “That’s it, Sunshine. I’ve got you.” He presses soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. “You did so well. Letting go like that for me, letting me see your bliss. Perfect.” His palm cups my face, thumb stroking my flushed cheek as he watches me with eyes full of wonder and possession. “Take your time. Just breathe for me.”
I’m boneless, trembling, completely undone, and he seems content to just hold me, murmuring praise against my skin until my heart rate steadies. His fingers trace idle patterns on my hip, my thigh, grounding me back in my body with patient, nonsexual touch that somehow feels as intimate as what we just did.
“How do you feel?” he asks softly, searching my face.
“Amazing,” I whisper. “Like I’m floating.”
“Good.” He kisses my forehead. “That’s exactly how you should feel.” His hand continues its soothing path along my side, my arm, letting me come back to myself in my own time. There’s no rush in his touch, no demand—just care and attention and the clear message that my comfort, my satisfaction, matters more than anything else.
Finally, my hands slide down his chest, fingers trailing over the ridges of his abs. When I reach the waistband of his boxer briefs, I pause, meeting his eyes.
“My turn,” I say, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounds. “I want to taste you too.”
His groan is guttural, almost pained. “Sunshine, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I push against his shoulders until he rolls onto his back, and I can see the massive bulge straining against the thin, stretchy fabric. Just seeing the pulsing outline makes my mouth water. “Show me how to make you feel good.”
He helps me strip away the last barrier between us, and then he’s gloriously, intimidatingly naked. His cock is as impressive as the rest of him—thick and long and distinctly not human. The green skin is slightly ridged, and there’s a bead of moisture at the tip. Only one thought circles through my mind—I want to taste that.
“You’re staring,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
My throat goes dry. Heat blasts through me—part arousal, part disbelief at the sheer size of him. He’s huge everywhere, and this is no exception.
“You’re… magnificent.” I reach out, hesitating for just a heartbeat before wrapping my hand around him. My fingers don’t quite meet. The realization sends a shiver of equal parts nerves and desire through my core. He’s hot—almost fever-warm—and the velvety skin slides over rigid heat as I give an experimental stroke.
He hisses through his teeth, his whole body going taut.
“Just like that,” he encourages, his hand covering mine to show me the pressure and rhythm he likes. “Goddess, your hand feels so good.”
I stroke him a few more times, learning the weight and feel of him, then lean down to taste. The first swipe of my tongue across the head makes him groan, his hips jerking involuntarily.
