It wasn’t as soft or beautiful as the mating rope he’d made her with traded silk, but it wasn’t coarse. And snapping the length in half proved fortuitous all on its own. Having two pieces allowed him to easily bind her lower legs to her thighs.
The soft sound of the rope sliding against her skin combined with their rapid breaths. Her floral scent was edged with the richness of her desire. The act of drawing up her legs, pressing her calf to the muscle of her thigh, and coiling the thin rope just below her knee once, twice, a third time…
All of it was its own kind of foreplay.
Emory wasn’t even sure when his cock slipped free of his slit, but it barely helped ease the pressure squeezing the base of his spine, urging him on.
They both shuddered when he palmed her inner thighs. Her flesh quivered under his palms. Electrical impulses and magic surged beneath her skin. His palms and fingerpads tingled, telling him so much about his delicious prey.
His gaze traveled down his mate’s heaving chest, over the slope of her stomach, to lock on the soft, dark curls of her cunt and the wet skin they barely hid from view. She’d asked him if he’d prefer her bare, citing his own kind’s lack of hair, but he’d very firmly told her no. He liked her curls. They drew his eye in the same way genital markings were supposed to. The sight of them alone was enough to make his cock jerk.
Emory clenched his jaw, his hold on his control loosening with every second, as he used his thumbs to gently part her folds.
There was something delightfully obscene about the act of revealing all her swollen, arousal-slick flesh to his gaze. His kind had all the same equipment, so to speak, but they kept their genitals tucked safely behind a slit. With their clitorises relatively difficult to access, pleasure was mostly achieved through penetration — and even that was done blindly.
But his mate wasn’t built like a merwoman. She was wonderfully flexible, her sex exposed with the slightest touch. It was easy to pleasure with penetrationandmassage.
He couldn’t get enough of the sight of her pink cunt, open and wet for him. Her sheath looked so small, but he knew she would be able to take him. They had, after all, worked hard to make sure of it.
Tied up, prone, and nearly squirming with arousal, Clementine let out a high whine of impatience.
In response to that sound, instinct took over. Emory surged up to brace his hands by her ears. His cock, engorged and dripping with seed, slapped wetly against her belly. Lowering his head, he told her in his mother tongue,“You are mine. Your heart is mine. Your body is mine. Your pups will be mine. You are my mate, Clementine.”
She arched her back. Her nipples, hardened by the cool air, scraped against his chest. Her hips rolled under him, spreading her arousal over the sensitive base of his slit.
He knew she couldn’t possibly understand what he said, but the look in her eyes told him sheknew.
And then, using the only phrase he’d taught her, she replied,“I am Emory’s.”
That tenuous hold on his control vanished.
Emory descended on her with all the fury of a storm. Their kisses were furious, messy. His tongue plunged into the hot well of her mouth, devouring the unique taste ofher,before he ripped himself away.
Clementine moaned as he licked a trail from her jaw to her collarbone. Her back arched again, begging him for more, when he began to cover her breasts in tiny, stinging bites. Even in his frenzy, he controlled his strength, aware that his sharp teeth and bite-force could easily injure her.
But that didn’t mean he was gentle.
By the time he moved downward again, his cock leaving a trail of seed in his wake, her nipples were swollen and her chest was covered in angry red marks. He didn’t stop his marking as he moved, either. Bites and sucking kisses showed his path down the curve of her ribs and soft belly. He paused there just long enough to lick up his seed. The taste of it mixed with the salt of her skin and luscious pheromones made his hips jerk automatically, rutting his cock into the blankets below.
When he reached the apex of her thighs, any rational part of him that remained washed away. He was nothing but raw instinct as he hooked his fingers into the rope binding her legs and pulled, forcing her to spread her thighs as far as possible. He knew nothing but the primal sounds that escaped her throat when he sucked the hot little pearl of flesh between his lips and hollowed out his cheeks.
She was all he tasted. All he saw. All he heard. All he felt.
Clementine was everything.
Her blunt little claws dug into his hair, pulling hard enough to make his scalp sting, even as she rolled her hips into his mouth, demanding more. He didn’t even have to think about it before he plunged two fingers into her sheath. After a few pumps, a third joined, stretching her tight muscles until they quivered around him.
Emorylovedusing his fingers to pleasure her. That was why it was no hardship to file down the claws of his right hand. It made them almost useless while hunting, but it allowed him the unparalleled pleasure of using his extra senseinsidehis mate.
With the pads of his fingers pressed against her inner wall, he could feel every shudder, every heartbeat, even the rush of blood in the tiniest of veins. And when he gave that small ridged spot inside her a little shock…
Clementine’s thighs tensed around him. Her hoarse shout echoed off the stone walls as her orgasm rippled through her, contracting her core around his thrusting fingers like a vice.
She’d barely begun to loosen up again when he untangled her hands from his hair and rose up. He could only imagine what he must have looked like as he pulled himself over her: his eyes wild, his mouth slick with her arousal, and his cock so heavy with blood, every heartbeat bordered on pain.
Snagging the knot holding her wrists together, he once more pressed the backs of her hands into the blankets above her head. “Stay,” he snarled.
Clementine nodded even as her head lifted, angling for a kiss.
