For a moment he’s still, coiled and tense, only hiskrythand his cock pulsing and twitching. When he seizes my hair and pushes my mouth toward his, it’s a break with his own control, and I feel it throughout his body. He kisses me violently, and the passion of his desire travels through me like a stiff drink, making me warm.
I don’t so much as surrender to him as I have no choice but to go with him when he pushes me onto the table and covers my body with his. He is heavy, solid, and warm. His tongue moves sensually inside of my mouth, and we establish a rhythm that seems orchestrated.
He draws back suddenly, standing at the foot of the table. “This is forbidden,” he growls.
I don’t care. I mean to say that, but no words leave my mouth. I push myself up, my eyes on his.
“I want you,” I tell him, and move my fingers over hiskryth.
He shudders and snatches my wrist in a quick movement that I don’t see coming. His claws are extended and his appearance is becoming more feral with each passing second, the growl in his chest is more ferocious. I don’t feel fear, though. Just a desire to lure him in to me, to feel him inside of me.
“I will punish you,” he says, but the threat is empty, because he hasn’t even finished the sentence when he pushes me back and climbs on top of me. I have spread my legs for him, and my pussy is so wet that I can feel my juices sliding under my skin as he pushes me back on the table.
He meets my eyes for a moment, a single breath, a growl coming from deep inside of him—not loud, just vibrating deeply.
When his cock touches the entrance to my pussy, I feel its size, and my eyes go wide with fear that I have no intention of acting upon. I still want him, I have never wanted anything so much before in all my life—nothing like this, nothing soanimal.
There is a sharp pain when he enters me; my opening stretches wide and for a moment it seems he will not fit, but with a gentle, steady thrust, he slides in. I gasp, and hear a whimper in my throat, but the pain travels through me, turns to water in my eyes, and spills over as a single tear. Then it’s gone.
He covers my mouth with his and his cock fills me, driving in deep, stretching me in every direction, leaving no emptiness inside. He rests on his forearms with my head in his hands, and moves inside of me slowly at first, fucking me almost tenderly, warming me up.
My orgasm is quick to ignite—after all, I have been craving this for weeks, and now I know this deep inside: I have wanted him all along, I have always wanted him, it feels as natural to have his cock inside of me and his weight on top of me as if I have known all my life that I would be with him.
I dig my fingers into his flesh, and I start to feel dizzy. Between my legs, the ache has blossomed and throbs almost painfully now; I’m so close to release, and he keeps moving, thrusting harder now, deeper, consuming me.
When I come it’s like an explosion; it spreads from the intense pleasure between my legs, out to my limbs, into my head, and I begin to see stars. The pleasure is unlike anything I have ever felt before, and my mouth falls open. He is above me, looking down at me, and my screams seem to make him swell inside of me.
I’m not conscious of what I’m doing when I wrap my legs around him, crossing, with some difficulty, my feet at the ankles so I can pull him toward me, trapping him inside of me. Waves of pleasure are still gripping me. It’s almost too pleasurable to stand. But I want him tofillme, I want to feel him come, I want the wet, hot liquid of his seed deep inside of me.
He is overtaken by a sudden flash of something—a last effort to stop what we have started. He puts a hand next to my head and tries to push away. I grip him fiercely with my legs, and roll my head slowly, telling him not to stop. Our eyes are locked when I feel him growl, feel his cock pulse violently, and then feel the hot liquid of his seed spilling inside of me as he makes a sound so feral it would ordinarily be terrifying.
His weight collapses onto me and he puts his arms around me, gripping me fiercely. I feel a sharp slash on my back—an errant claw, I will discover later, a tiny cut from his loss of control. His whole body is violently tense as he thrusts so deep inside of me I can feel his cock bumping against my cervix. Between my legs I feel the enormous amount of seed, hot and liquid, being pumped into me.
His orgasm lasts a long time, as mine ebbs away. At last, his body seems to be drained completely of its energy, and he’s heavy on top of me for a moment, making it hard to breathe.
He pushes up on his forearms and we look at each other. Hiskrythis now alive with wild colors, pulsing and glowing. We stare into each other’s eyes, exchanging something wordlessly, something we both know: we are made for each other.
I’m in love with him. The words are on the tip of my tongue, and I’m about to say them, when his eyes suddenly seem to snap into focus, the pupils narrowing and his face changing to an expression I have never seen on him before.
Not fear. But something in its arena, something dangerous.
I grip his shoulders beneath his disheveled robe. “No,” I say, as he begins to pull away.
“Anya,” he growls, shaking his head. He lifts his torso, taking me with him, and I grip him more fiercely with my legs. He is still inside of me, his cock pulsing, still hard. I feel our liquids seeping from between us.
“Don’t go yet,” I plead with him.
He stares back at me for a moment, and his eyes soften. But he places his hands on my arms and grips them. My heart sinks as he moves his head slowly from side to side. He speaks his language, and then he says, in English, “This cannot be. You don’t understand…”
He slides from inside of me, pushing my legs down to free himself. He steps backward, staring at me as if he cannot believe what he sees. As soon as his body is away from me, I feel empty, and I bring my fingers to my lips absently.
The connection between us gone, the full weight of what has happened comes crashing into my consciousness. He almost stumbles as he steps back and over my robe, which he crouches to pick up, still staring at me in disbelief.
“This cannot be,” he repeats, handing the robe to me. He stands at a distance, like he doesn’t want to move closer to me.
I reach for the robe and I touch his hand when I take it. As soon as I do, my body is electrified again with the same feral, thought-destroying passion. I don’t care about anything but him. I grip his wrist and pull on his hand.
He shakes his head, but moves with my guidance, stepping closer to me.
