“Jak, what are you doing?”
He silently studies my face, but all the while he is smiling as if delighted by whatever puzzle I have presented him with. “It is believed that frost demons cannot generate their own energy from joy. I do not feel any difference in my own energy, but the fact that you do suggests that there is something deeper shifting in the pattern of energies that exist between us.”
I shake my head in confusion. “I have no idea what you mean,” I whisper as he slides forward and draws me forward so that I am fitted perfectly against his body.
“It means to feed,” he whispers, and his lips descend.
They brush mine with an explosion of hot pleasure that brings a flavor to my tongue reminiscent of biting into a hot, gooey brownie cooled with a scoop of vanilla ice cream to compliment its heat and richness. It curls through my senses, deepening until it is all I can taste and smell, and a warmth of pleasure expands across my chest, fizzling like champagne in my blood as the heat blooms like an erotic flower expanding through me as it unfurls and my sex eagerly tightens as fresh arousal well up and soaks my panties anew.
This isn’t something so shallow as to be called “feeding.”
This is ecstasy.
Chapter 16
Jakfros
Igrowl softly against Shawna’s lips, my eagerness quickly eclipsing my curiosity.I can also feel excitement and something warm tickling my senses that feels a lot like happiness. Even though the cold is coming off me in waves in response to my arousal and the heightened awakening of my need to feed, I can feel that incredible hunger stirring and churning, building a slow energy deep inside of me... and heat, though well-hidden.
It is as if my internal ice has become energized to the point of becoming burning, scalding me throughout and awakening me in ways that I have never felt before except when attending my annual feast. And yet, despite that, I hunger even more for her heat. For her sweetness. A sweetness that seems richer, and somehow bolder, with the lingering hint of the chocolate that I can taste on her lips. It has been hours since she ate the little sugar-dusted chocolate crinkle cookies and yet somehow it has mingled with her natural flavor, enticing me.
Or perhaps that is all her? What if Shawna naturally tastes like chocolate to me?
My tongue sweeps hungrily, curiously, into her mouth, delving into that sweetness. The taste of chocolate grows richer, and she moans against my lips. A purring growl vibrates my throat as I continue to explore her mouth with every dragand flick of my tongue. It skims the surface of the sensitive internal flesh before sliding against her own tongue. Her tongue is smaller, plumper, and sweeter. I lick it and moan at the warm chocolate flavor that fills my mouth. I have often seen raw pleasure on Shawna’s face when she has sipped hot cocoa but never understood that primal reaction to it. I experience it as nothing more than a pleasant flavor, but now that I am devouring the sweetness of the hot chocolate of her essence, sipping on her with every drag of my tongue, the pleasure cannot be overstated.
I do not think that humans in general make this flavor. Rationally, that makes no sense, or else it would be widely known among demons. How could a species taste so incredibly edible and not be a menu option for some of the less selective members of our races? No, despite the haze of pleasure rapidly swamping my thoughts, I know that this sweetness is a mingling of responses within me, enhancing my own enjoyment of her. I am certain that no other human would be this decadent or so addictive to me. I do not even want to stop kissing her. Her taste, and her shy responses as her tongue rises to meet and caress mine, send bursts of pleasure rushing deeply through me. It makes me ravenous for her, and I can feel my wings spreading and expanding in response to her unique flavor as it triggers the deepest, predatory parts of my instinct.
I cup the side of her neck with one hand. The skin is fragile beneath my claws, and I can feel the rapid flutter of her pulse against my palm. Her excitement is palpable, and it feeds into my own. It literally feeds me as well, as her sweet heat and pleasure wells up and rushes into my system in a strong punch. I feel drunk on it. If I were to release her now, would I teeter like the last human I captured when he drank too deeply of the brandy I kept filled at his elbow? His desire for it and the pleasure that it gave him had consumed him to degrees that Ihad found personally a little shocking and distasteful. But how can I judge when my thirst for Shawna never subsides no matter how long I drink of her, and the knife-sharp edge of my need never dulls but only grows sharper with every passing moment?
Even her hot, little human hands feel like brands marking me as they rest on my bare chest. It is like hot pain and pleasure all at once. It is like once again foolishly sticking my hand in her bathwater out of curiosity after she is done, but this time feeling intense pleasure from it. I make a small sound of protest when one of her hands moves away, but her fingers brush through my hair, sending a shiver through me seconds before her fingers curl around one horn, anchoring her against me. Her breasts flatten against my chest so firmly that I can feel the hard peaks of her nipples through the thin fabric covering them. It is a very enjoyable feeling, but I am distracted from it by an overwhelming sensation that sweeps through me. It travels rapidly from my brow through my body in a hot wave, all due to the gentle pressure of her hand against the sensitive base of my horns just below where she grips me.
My entire body tightens with pleasure as my hardening cock engorges with a painfully heavy weight. I growl against her mouth, drawing a tiny gasp of excitement from her as I cup her beneath her ample ass and lift her up more firmly against me. I know she can feel the urgency and potency of my need now. My cock is a burning bar between us against which she shifts her soft belly, rubbing enticingly against it with tiny, eager twitches of her hips. This instinctive little dance and the flood of her pheromones hitting me churn the ice-hot energy more rapidly, revitalizing my once draining energy. My tail lashes with the flood of strength and power through me. I should be delighted and in wonder of the feeling bursting through me, but at this moment, it is nothing but a trivial byproduct. She is everything.
I delve deeper into the kiss and her thumb skims back and forth across the base of my horn. Needs stabs furiously through my gut and I am momentarily overcome by the urge to tear what is left of her clothing away and press my cock deep into the tight grip of her body. The sensation is so surprisingly erotic that I finally pull free from the kiss to gasp as I lift my hand away from her neck to grip her wrist gently. I still her hand and draw deep, ragged breaths to regain control over myself as I peer down into her flushed face.
Her lips are reddened and plush from our kiss and her blue eyes softened and gleam like polished gems with her arousal. By the dark gods, she smells as wonderful as she tastes. My senses are a mess. They have turned even her scent into something indescribably delicious. Better than any of the numerous fragrant dishes and sweets that I have given her. There is a spicy sweetness hinted at in her scent, the faint tartness of cherries, and more of that lush chocolate and hint of some sweet liquor cream that makes my mouth water. She smells like a sweet treat crafted special just for me. I want to dive into that sweetness and indulge myself recklessly in it until I am satiated. It is a warning that I cannot ignore. A frost demon’s relationship with humans differs from that of other demonic races, and this hunger is dangerous in my current state of mind.
“If you keep doing that, I will not be able to restrain myself,” I rasp as I circle my thumb against the rapid pulse beating in her wrist. “Perhaps we should stop,” I continue, hating every word that is forced necessarily from between my lips. I must give her the chance to retreat while I still have some control. “This is neither wise nor safe. I cannot control this hunger.”
A smile belonging to only the naughtiest and most mischievous imps slowly tugs at her lips in response. “What makes you think I want you to control yourself?” she whispers back.
Her words take me off guard. Does she not realize how small and fragile she is compared to me?
“I am a demon,” I reply. Hearing myself say it, it seems absurd to point out, but I do not understand how she is missing the differences between our species. Maybe she truly does not understand, and I need to elaborate further. “I do not wish to frighten or hurt you.”
