I glare up at him, and I swear I hear a rumble of a chuckle in his chest before he finally drops the morsel into my mouth.
But he doesn’t remove his thumb.
“Suck,” he orders.
And God help me, I do. My lips close around the rough pad of his thumb, tongue sweeping the salt and meat juices from his skin.
Buzz. Between my legs. Immediate. What the hell.
I just decided this guy’s a serial torturer with a flair for theatrics. So why the hell am I turned on? Is it just the memory of last night?
His wings twitch. They’d been slack at his sides while he sat feeding me, but now? Now they flare, fluttering madly.
“Now I will reward my consort,” he says, voice thick. “When she does well, rewards follow.”
Before I can swallow my bite, he scoops me up by the waist and plunks me onto the table. The plate clatters to the ground, shoved away with a sweep of his wing.
Reward?
Oh. Oh no. He doesn’t mean?—
Oh yes, he does.
In one unceremonious tug, he spreads my hips wide, and since I’m still completely naked, I’m immediately bared to him.
“Hey!” I squeak, grabbing his horns as his mouth dips lower. “Wait a?—”
He pauses, eyebrow arching like a devil who knows exactly what game he’s playing. “Do you not want your reward? I promise it is far nicer than my punishments.”
“Punishments?” My voice squeaks on the word.
The light in his eyes burns hotter. “Yes.”
And then his long, leonine tongue is on me.
My elbows slam back against the table as shock jolts through me. His tongue—oh God—his tongue isn’t just long. It’s strong. Snuffling, plunging, curling inside me like he’s starving.
I moan something obscene, not even sure what I say. My head feels like it’s floating off my body, not from wanting to escape but because I can’t believe how good this feels.
Itshouldn’tfeel this good.
I shouldn’t be shuddering with every messy lick.
But he’s devouring me. Motorboating my pussy. Tugging my ass off the table so he can bury his face deeper. He’s relentless, wild, sloppy—worshipful.
And the worst, most disloyal thought crashes through me: this was the part of me that disgusted Drew.
Drew, who said women “smelled funny.” Who refused to go down on me. Who complained if I didn’t shave myself smooth. Who made me feel like my entire body was flawed.
But this monster?
He can’t get enough.
My spine arches. My thighs quake. His teeth never hurt me; he keeps them sheathed, his gums pressing into me instead while his tongue scrapes, plunges, and strokeseverywhere.
And then he finds it. My clit. His nose snuffles, and his strong, muscled tongue licks deep inside, and I see stars.
The G-spot I thought was a myth?
