Her dress came off ludicrously easy in his hands, her stays, chemise, and petticoat all quickly following. He left on her stockings, for they were tied with satin garters in a shade of bright yellow, like lemons. It seemed such a soft, personal affectation, a nod to her actual style and preference, and he realized for the first time that her unattractive wardrobe was likely not one of her choosing. Those sunny yellow ribbons were, though, and so those he left in place.
His heart tripped again at the sight of her in his giant bed – smaller and more vulnerable than he’d expected, lip caught between her teeth, her eyes wide and expected. Soft, rounded hips, her legs pressed together to shield the thatch of dark hair between them. Her breasts were full and heavy, each capped in fawn-colored nipples that he already knew were incredibly sensitive to the stroke of his tongue. He wasn’t sure he had ever had a naked woman in his bed before, not one that he addressed himself in such a way, at least, not that he could remember. Naked women were common enough, but after enough drink, it was impossible to tell who had stripped who, and he was just as likely to simply raise their skirts than remove their many layers.
She shivered when he lifted her, kneeling on the bed as he raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of her ankle. Silas had no idea what sort of lord she would marry, he considered as he kissed her legs, her soft kitten mewls reverberating down his stiffened cock. He didn’t know if her future husband would be sadistic or cruel, if he would have strange desires that she could not fulfill, or if he would take simple pleasure in her body the way Silas himself did, and he didn’t wish to dwell on contemplations of it. Tonight she would be his, and that would be enough.
She was hardly breathing as he kissed the crease of her inner thigh, a breath away from her heavenly center, and he could wait no longer. He had never been very patient, one of the many virtues he lacked, and this was a feast he had long hungered for. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut up until that point, but as he pushed her legs open, revealing the silky interior of the glistening petals of her sex to him, her eyes popped open, wide and panicked.
Silas kept his gaze on her as he stroked her with his tongue for the first time — a long, slow lick from her slick core to the hooded little bundle of nerves at the top of her folds — and her reaction was one he was glad he had not missed. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting back and her mouth dropping open, an expression of pure pleasure completely replacing the look of sorrow she had worn just a short while earlier.
Back and forth, he stroked her with his tongue, and on the third pass, he closed his lips around that little bud, giving it a soft suckle. Eleanor’s back arched, remaining rigid as he began the cycle over again, and when he sucked once more, he thought she might levitate off the bed. When she shifted, as if she sought to move out from under him, Silas laid his palm against her stomach, stilling her movement. “The flower needs only to lie back and enjoy being fed upon, Miss Eastwick. As it is, the butterfly is certainly enjoying himself. This is the sweetest nectar he can remember tasting. Unless, of course, she is displeased with the performance thus far and wishes to stop?” No sound, but a shake of her head in the negative. “Good girl. Then lie back and let me enjoy tasting this sweet pussy flower.”
He began to lick her in earnest then, focusing on her soft gasps and hitching breaths, learning which movements elicited the best reaction from her and then repeating them until her hands were wrapped around his horns. A glance up between their bodies showed him how lost to the pleasure she was — eyes closed, mouth open, her hips canting against his mouth almost unconsciously. He wanted her to drench him in her sweet nectar, lubricating the way for his cock, and from the way she was bucking against him, riding his tongue, she would do so soon.
He would need to do something with his claws. Unlike some of his brethren, Silas was not a fan of keeping them hooked and sharp. They caught on everything, and he had inadvertently nicked himself on the rare occasion when they were not tended to weekly. He shuddered to think what he might do to a human’s more sensitive, parchment-like skin. His claws were trimmed and filed weekly by one of his manservants, as short as he could make them, but still hideously long and brutal looking when compared to hers. He wanted to slip a finger into her, wanted to stroke her inner walls and feel her clench from within, but he would need to ensure he had taken the proper steps first. Instead, he redoubled the effort of his tongue, licking and sucking until her chalice overflowed and his face glistened.
When her control broke, at last, it was a glorious thing to behold. Her hands tightened around his horns, dragging him closer, nails scoring his scalp. Her back arched, thighs trembling around him as she shook, a high-pitched wheeze issuing from her throat. She was going to feel amazing around his cock. He could already tell. He wanted to feel her clench, squeezing his thick shaft in her honeyed confines, wanted to make her gasp and wheeze again and again until he emptied, a river of milk cutting through the honey, his knot stoppering her, trapping their essences together.
“I concede to your point, Lord Stride. Your knowledge of butterflies and flowers is without equal, I’m certain. It is a wonder the Royal gardens have not put you on a permanent retainer to oversee the health of their fields. But you robbed me of my modesty, my lord, and you’re still entirely overdressed.” Her voice was breathy, and she was panting as she tugged on the velveteen collar of his jacket.
“I’m not actually certain I can get out of this alone,” he mused, pulling himself to his knees and glancing over his shoulder, attempting to eye the button placket fastened around his wings.
“I nearly forgot,” she laughed. “You have a dressing assistant, of course. A servant to comb your hair. A servant to cut your meat. It’s a wonder you don’t have a servant on hand to powder your arse, my lord.”
“And how do you know I don’t, Miss Eastwick? After all, we high lords of the land are very busy napping through sessions of Parliament and drinking brandy all day. When am I to find the time to fasten my own tailcoat?”
“I’m gladyou’rethe one who said it, Lord Stride.”
Her laughter against the back of his neck made his cock jump as she pulled herself to kneel behind him, her palms gliding down his back until they reached the fastenings beneath his wings. “I’ve always wondered how this worked,” she murmured, a hot breath at the nape of his neck that made him shiver.
This was any other illicit affair, he would already be inside her, her skirts hiked up around her waist, his trousers open around his thighs. But not with her. Eleanor Eastwick was far too delicate and lovely for a fast fumble in a darkened room. His waistcoat was next, followed by his shirt. He put his sapphire stickpin through the collar of her dress at the foot of the bed, picking up the whole bundle of clothing and depositing it on the sofa across the room, his snowy white cravat like a dollop of cream atop the heap.
Eleanor Eastwick’s hands were a soft glide down his chest, her nails catching at his pebbled nipples, scraping over his stomach until they reached the jutting handle of his cock. He wanted to watch her expression again, wanted to see every minute change in her as she touched him, but when her hand closed over his shaft, giving him an experimental stroke, his eyes fluttered shut, and it was all he could do from moaning.
Her fingertips explored him from route to tip, cupping his heavy sac, squeezing each of his testicles until he grunted. She seemed mesmerized by the movement of his sheath, the loose membrane of skin covering his cock head moving down his entire shaft as she stroked, pulling it back to reveal his tip, already pearling for her. When she pulled his foreskin back completely, she revealed the ridge ribbing at the top of his shaft, exploring him with her fingertips until he was unable to hold in his groan of pleasure.
“It’s so big,” she laughed nervously, her hands making their way down the base of his cock where his knot was filling with blood. “I can hardly believe this will fit inside me.”
“Humans are quite small,” he chuckled, removing her hands from him and directing her to lay back on the bed. “But I assure you, it will fit. We’ll go slow, as slow as you need, my lovely. And I promise you’ll love the way it fills you.”
She whimpered at the first press of his head to her slick center, a hitching gasp following as Silas rubbed his cock tip up and down the length of her folds, her legs jerking every time he rolled over her clit. Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed into the mouth of her sex, so slowly he could barely tell he was moving at all.
“Do you remember what we talked about regarding asphyxiation, Miss Eastwick? Please don’t forget that you need to breathe.” His palm pressed to her lower belly as his thumb began to circle over that swollen little pearl, tickling her clit as her cunt swallowed his cock. She winced, and Silas quickly bent to press a kiss to her forehead. “Just breathe, my little moth. It’ll only hurt for a moment. Refind your pleasure, lovely.”
The first drawback of his hips happened in slow motion. A small thrust of his hips and his thumb circling her clit, and on the third half thrust into her, she wheezed. “Starting to enjoy yourself, Miss Eastwick? I assure you, my dear, this is only the beginning.” When he slid his palms beneath the rounded globe of her bottom, lifting her slightly and angling her hips, her reaction was immediate. A sharp gasp, her hands scrabbling at his shoulders, simultaneously pushing him away in tugging him closer, scratching at the back of his neck. Another thrust, this one seating him deeper within her, and she cried out. “There we are, lovely. See, that didn’t hurt too terribly, did it? I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Eastwick. Your cunt already feels delicious around my cock, but I want to feel her squeeze.”
She was just as reactionary as he fucked her as she was when he kissed her. Pulling his hair, gripping his horns, nails scraping down his back until they reached his wings. She was so small and soft beneath him, he barely needed to exert any effort pumping into her. His knot kissed the mouth of her sex on every thrust of his hips, and the tight, sucking sensation of her cunt was more than he could bear for long. Her inner muscles were gripping him like a vice, crying out on every backstroke as those ribbed ridges in his shaft dragged along her inner walls.
“This is the sweetest, tightest little pussy I’ve ever had, Miss Eastwick. Do you like the way my cock feels inside you? Because I am very much enjoying the way your delicious little cunt is squeezing me.”
She whined against him when he slid a hand between their bodies to roll his thumb over her clit once more. He wanted to feel her clench around him, wanted her to milk his cock until his balls were dry, sending him into the sunlight heavy and sated; a good day’s sleep for a change. He felt the jerk in her legs first, her thighs squeezing around his hips, feet kicking out, a shutter moving through her before her pussy spasmed in her throat opened, a glorious golden tone, singing for him after all. Each contraction of her muscles surrounded his cock, jerking him until his eyes rolled back, the rhythm of his hips stuttering, balls tightening and raising close to his body, and all too soon, it was all too much.
Silas surged forward with a moan, his knot breaching her, popping into place as the first contractions of his own orgasm rippled through him. She had still been clenching him tightly when he had filled her, and now she clenched around his knot, a bliss unlike anything he had ever known. He ought to have been more concerned with her welfare. He ought to have been checking in and making sure she was all right, he told himself, that the sound that ripped from her throat was one of pleasure and not one of pain, but he was lost. His great black wings beat the air above the bed as his balls pulsed, knot throbbing, his cock pumping spurt after spurt of his hot seed into her.
When it was finished, Silas was dizzy. He had never knotted a woman before, and the realization that he had now done so would likely be a mad panic in a few hours, but right now, he only felt drunk and heavy, surrounded by her warmth and her soft smell, and he sank into her, a small part of him hoping that he never resurfaced.
“Why didn’t you sing at the opera? Did the crown’s facilities not please the diva?”
Her smile against him was soft, and her eyes remained closed. They were still locked together, the swelling in his knot keeping them tied, and that, too, was a brand-new sensation. Her nose pressed to his chest, rubbing side to side, nuzzling against him before she answered.
