Not like he’s undressing me with his eyes. He’s worshipping.
Like my body is a map he’s memorized and is still afraid to forget.
His fingers trace my ribs, my breasts, my stomach. He growls low when he sees the faint bruises from last time. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I breathe. “You claimed me.”
His eyes go gold-hot, and his mouth is on me before I can say anything else.
He kisses down my neck, slow and thorough. His tusks skim my skin without ever piercing, and that contrast—danger and control—makes my pulse spike.
I feel his tongue flick over my nipple, and I gasp, arching. He hums like he likes the sound, then sucks it into his mouth, tugging gently with lips and teeth until I’m moaning, twisting beneath him.
He moves to the other, giving it the same worship. His claws drag lightly down my hips, slipping into the waistband of my pants.
“I want to see you,” he says, voice like thunder behind glass.
“Then look,” I say, lifting my hips.
He peels my pants away, slow and reverent. When he sees my pussy—bare, slick, already throbbing—he freezes.
Then he groans, deep and almost pained. “Fuck, Jillian.”
He lowers his head between my thighs and I nearly scream when his tongue meets me. Wide and rough and hot, dragging over my clit with a precision that feels like a blade honed just for this.
He pins my thighs open with those enormous hands, claws digging slightly into the blanket. I squirm, panting, overwhelmed, but he doesn’t let me escape.
“Stay still,” he growls, licking me again. “Let me taste you.”
And gods, he does.
He licks every inch of me. Flicks over my clit, then sucks it into his mouth until I’m sobbing his name. My hands claw through the thick mane of black hair that falls over his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, or away—I can’t even tell anymore.
My orgasm hits like a wave, sudden and blinding, and he doesn’t stop. He holds me down andeatsme through it, like I’m his entire religion.
By the time he pulls back, I’m shaking.
He moves up my body, kissing a line over my stomach, my chest, my throat, until we’re face to face again. His golden eyes are blown wide, pupils dark, barely breathing.
“I need you,” I whisper.
“I could break you,” he says, voice cracking.
“Then break me open. I want it.”
His mouth crashes to mine, all teeth and heat and hunger. His pants vanish—I barely register him kicking them aside—and his cock presses against my entrance, thick and hot andthere.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs again, one last time.
“Fuck me, Maug.”
He pushes in.
My breath catches. My pussy stretches around him, taking him inch by inch. It burns and aches andfills, but I don’t stop him. Ican’t.
“Jillian,” he moans, forehead pressed to mine. “You feel like… starlight. Fire.”
I laugh, breathless. “You feel like beingfound.”
