His bulge hardens, his cock pushing against the confines of his pocket. And I sink an inch lower, using my hold on Killan’s shoulders to leverage my movements. Even through my jeans, the texture of his scales is an aphrodisiac to my clit.
I rock against Killan’s bulge, massaging myself on his scales, but being careful not to press too hard. I’m not a cock-pocket expert yet, and I don’t want to cause him any harm. Killandoesn’t seem worried about that, though, because he flexes his hips, dry-humping me as he buries his face in my hair.
“Lydia,” he growls, deep and low, more animalist than I’ve heard him sound before. “Can’t wait.” He rests my ass on the edge of the drying table and sinks to his knees.
With a hand pressed to my stomach to keep me in place, he uses his other two hands to yank my jeans and panties down, only fumbling for a couple of seconds with the unfamiliar button and zip closure. The cuffs get stuck on my shoes, but that doesn’t slow him. He’s a man possessed as he ducks between my legs, resting the backs of my knees on his shoulders, my jeans dangling off my feet.
“Woah.” Unbalanced, I topple backwards, coming to rest on my elbows.
Before I can say anything else, he’s licking my thigh from my knee up to the crux of my legs.
“Killan!” His name is a scream as he buries his face in my pubic hair, nuzzling at my already damp folds. I can hear how wet I am. It might’ve been embarrassing if I had any ability left to care. Instead, all I can think about is how great this feels, and how much I want him.
How much I’ve been wanting him for weeks.
My dreams knew the truth.
And then all remaining thoughts flee as his tongue finds my clit.
I gasp, bucking against his face.
He growls again, in a way that the old me would’ve thought was him expressing frustration, when it’s now abundantly clear he’s half-wild with lust.
The fingers of two hands are digging into the chunky flesh of my thighs, and he still has a hand free, which he uses to more thoroughly part my folds for a closer inspection of my clit. Hescowls, flashing his multiple rows of pointed teeth, reminding me of the predator he really is.
“This—” he says, licking my clit again, circling it with his tongue. “This is mine.”
Heat rolls off the table. Sweat prickles my skin.
I swear my eyes roll into the back of my head when he pushes a thick finger inside of me, and instinctively I clamp my knees together, tightening them around his neck.
He doesn’t stop me. I don’t think he’s noticed I’m practically strangling him. Or maybe he’s that much stronger than me that my legs digging into his throat aren’t worth worrying about.
Whatever the reason, he continues his exploration, his gaze focused, and a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. His tongue is my new favorite body part, I decide, gasping as he uses it to trace circles, pumping his finger into me in small thrusts.
My climax roars through me, rushing along my veins, igniting my nerve endings. I think I scream Killan’s name. Or maybe that’s just what it sounds like inside my head.
I shudder, my arms losing their strength, and flop backwards onto the drying table, crushing my steaming clothes.
“Killan…” My legs are jelly, and when he ducks out from under my knees, I almost slide off the tablet completely. Then he leans over to kiss me, and I taste myself on his lips. It’s exactly the type of thrilling risk Lucas never would’ve attempted. And it’s that thought which has me sitting up, a hand on Killan’s chest and another on the bulge of his cock. I swear pre-cum is leaking out of his closed pocket, and he bucks against my touch, as though scolded.
“Can’t—” He grits his teeth and takes an unsteady step away from me. “Another touch and I will fall apart.”
“Really?” I yank up my pants. “I want to see that.”
He laughs, and it’s such a surprise that my eyes widen.
“I think that’s only the second time I’ve heard you laugh.”
“With you,” he said, taking my hand in his and leading me toward the forest cavern, “everything feels…better.”
Killan
I carry Lydia as I climb the ladder. She has her eyes closed and her forehead pressed to my shoulder. She smells of sated lust, her endlessly silky skin damp with humidity. There remains tension in her shoulders, in the way she holds her spine. She is Lydia, after all. She is not going to stop overthinking everything because she has let me lick between her thighs.
My cock throbs with the memory of her taste. It is painfully hard, pressing against my slit, and I ignore it as best I can, even though it is determined to make climbing difficult. If Lydia notices my fumbling, she does not lift her head from my shoulder in reproach.
Finally, I clamber onto the metal grate that is the top-story walkway, and I am rushing into my kitchen with the faltering steps of a male who cannot believe his luck.
