“Wet already,” he growls, voice smug. “Good girl.”
He laps at me once—slow and hot and devastating. I cry out, hands straining in their bind, toes curling against the cold metal floor. His tongue is longer than any human’s, textured andbrutal. He circles my clit with a single curl of muscle and then withdraws.
“No,” I gasp.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “You’ll beg for it.”
I do. Gods, I do.
“Please, Kallus. Please…”
He dives back in.
This time, he doesn’t hold back. His tongue slashes against my pussy, plunging deep and curling, stroking my inner walls while his hands knead my ass and thighs. The ridges of his teeth brush my folds but never bite.
I come—hard—before he even touches my clit again. The orgasm shudders through me like lightning. I scream into the silence of the chamber, thighs clenching around his face.
He doesn’t stop.
One thick finger slips inside me, and then another, curling, probing. His spur brushes my walls—his actual cock hasn’t even touched me yet—and I’m already seeing stars.
“Please,” I sob, “I need it. I need you.”
“You need cock,” he corrects. “Say it.”
“I need your cock.”
He groans.
He lifts me in his arms like I weigh nothing, like a doll meant only for this. He doesn’t lay me on the bed—no, he holds me in the air, legs spread, knees hooked over his forearms. I feel the tip of his cock pressing at my entrance, thick and impossibly hot.
“You ready for me, little flame?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes.”
He thrusts.
I scream.
His cock is too big, too thick, every inch stretching me open impossibly. The spur at the base of his shaft scrapes alongmy walls in just the right way, making my whole body jerk in overstimulated delight.
He holds me still and pumps slowly, each motion deliberate, reverent, destructive.
“Mine,” he says with every stroke.
“Yours,” I gasp.
He thrusts harder, faster. My back arches, tits bouncing with every slap of our bodies. I’m soaked. Ruined. Grateful.
“Tell me what it feels like,” he hisses.
“Like fire,” I cry. “Like falling. Like I’ve never known anything before this.”
He grins, savage. “You haven’t.”
Another orgasm barrels through me, but he doesn’t stop. The spur inside me hits the perfect angle, again and again, making my voice a string of half-formed words and sacred curses.
When he comes, it’s with a roar that shakes the walls. I feel him pulsing deep inside me, filling me. Marking me.
