He doesn’t let me touch him back. He doesn’t give me his cock.
He reduces me to a begging mess, quieting my objections with gentle, demanding kisses. Kisses that silence the world and make me forget everything—everything except him. When, for the third time, he quiets my pleas in this way, I push him away.
“No more,” I beg, gasping. “No more.”
Zuriel looks at me, wiping his hand across his mouth—like he does more and more often—smearing my essence across his cheek.
I totter from the desk, my knees giving out as I land on the floor with a sigh. His arms wrap around me, and I try shoving him away. They tighten around me, lifting me back up.
“You’re ready,” he hums, satisfied.
Ready?
“You act like you’ve done this before,” I accuse as he carries me to the pile of blankets.
“I haven’t. And until you, I never even imagined it.”
“Then you’re skilled for a male who’s an amateur.” I can’t keep the frustration out of my voice, my core still constricting from one of the dozen orgasms.
Zuriel lowers me to the floor and crouches beside me, taking hold of my chin so I’m forced to face him.
“Since being invoked by you, I have had much time to think, to fantasize about what I can do to you. What I want to do to you.”
My eyes narrow. “And yet you still don’t fuck me.”
“You weren’t ready.” Reaching down, he cups his massive cock and hefts it between us. “You asked me to be gentle.”
I lick my lips. “I don’t want gentleness anymore.”
“Good.”
He grabs me and spins me around until I’m on my hands and knees, facing away from him with his tip pressed against me. His fingers spread me open, and despite how I clench around the bulge of his head, he waits, delaying the push inside. His other arm wraps around me, holding my butt up, his legs against mine.
“Easy,” he says.
I don’t know if the words are for me or him.
Slowly he enters me, releasing his fingers to clutch my hip. With a steady, demanding push, he drives forward little by little, stretching me wide.
My fingers twist into the blankets, and my brow drops. My glasses slip off my glistening face, and I shove them away. I don’t need to see, not when my body knows what to do.
Digging my feet against his legs, my whole body constricts around his cock as he stretches me to accommodate him. I fall onto my forearms, ass high in the air, and bunching my hands against my face, I try to relax.
He keeps filling me and filling me, and it’s not stopping.
The tight, aching edge of pain never goes over the brink. His tongue and his tail drove me crazy, but his cock makes me submit.
Finally, he lodges as deeply as he can, and a deep, satisfied groan fills my ears. He goes completely still, and in the silence, I realize I’m gnawing on the bunched blanket, my limbs shaking and taut.
He unhooks his arm around me so both his hands can palm and massage my ass. “Are you okay?” he rasps.
“Yes,” I whimper.
“You feel amazing, Summer.”
My teeth dig into my lower lip. “Thank you.”
For a while we stay like that, with me bent over, straining around his girth, adjusting to the edged ridges of his shaft. He continues to pet me, running his hands over my butt, up and down my spine, soothing me into a relaxed state. He tangles his fingers into my hair and kneads my neck, his claws tickling the backs of my arms.
