Beneath her, his tail flicked higher, teasing the dampening lace of her panties with a restless mind of its own.
“I want to taste you,” he murmured into her mouth, his amber eyes glowing. “Tell me what you need, Sylvie.”
His fingers were already there, teasing her folds through the wet silk.
“I want your mouth on me,” she said, the words a ragged confession. The heat was blooming between her thighs, heavy, insistent, and centered entirely on the man looming over her.
She reached out and tangled her hands in his hair, her fingers brushing the base of his horns as she nudged him lower. Rhavor didn’t hesitate; he dropped to his knees between her legs, his large hands gently opening her wide on the counter. She could feel his hot breath on her inner thighs, tracing closer and closer to the humming center of her. The loose apron bunched around her waist as he ducked under the hem. He draped her legs over his broad shoulders and tossed her briefs aside.
“You’re so pretty,” he growled, the sound vibrating in her core.
His fingers brushed her flesh, and Sylvie jolted, her breath hitching as her vision blurred. Her body leaned back. The first broad stroke of his tongue made her scream—a sharp, desperate sound that echoed off the kitchen tiles. He tasted her like a starving man who had finally found his hoard.
“Fuck, you taste so good.”
Then his mouth was on her. She cried out as he flicked his tongue over her swollen clit, her body leaning back slightly to give him better access.
If his tongue is already sending me into orbit,she thought frantically,his cock is going to be a masterpiece of torture.
He pulled her closer, his hands clamping down around her thighs to hold her steady against the onslaught of his hot tongue.
“I want to live between your legs,” he muttered against her skin, the heat of his words causing a fresh wave of moisture to slick his path.
“Rhavor, please,” she whimpered.
She wanted him to shut up and work her until she forgot how wrong this was. Or how right.
He growled against her sensitive flesh, the vibration sending her flying, her body shaking as his tongue delved deep again. She wrapped her hands around his horns, pulling him closer, rocking against his face in a desperate, frantic search for more.
He gave it to her. He sucked the pulsing bud of her clit into his mouth, then traced a hot, wet line down between her folds, working his tongue into her swollen entrance before returning to the center of her nerves.
“You’re so responsive,” he murmured.
His fingers dug into the full curve of her buttocks as he alternated between swirling his tongue and sucking at the throbbing knot, coiling her body tighter and tighter. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails marking the heavy muscle as she met the intensity of his strokes.
The extra pressure was the breaking point. An endless wave of pleasure crashed through her, leaving her gasping and limp against the counter. He softened his mouth, easing her down with gentle laps before finally lifting his head.
“How was it?” he asked, his voice an octave lower, his mouth wet with her.
“It was amazing,” she breathed, her lungs struggling to find air.
“You are amazing, Sylvie,” Rhavor rasped.
He leaned forward, his massive hands bracing against the counter on either side of her, caging her in with his heat and the dark protective span of his wings. She could feel her own taste on his lips as he kissed her—deep, possessive, and lingering.
The heavy bulge of him strained against his jeans, pressing into her thigh like an open furnace.
“What about you?” she asked, her pulse thudding in her throat.
“I can handle it,” he growled, though his body was trembling with the sheer force of his restraint.
“Let me,” she breathed, her entire body still humming from the release.
She reached down and grabbed his brass belt buckle. It took her a few clumsy, agonizing seconds to work it free, her pulse roaring in her ears. His trousers were already stretched tight, proof of how far gone he was. When the buckle finally gave, Rhavor shuddered, his jaw tightening until the bone stood out.
“You don’t have to,” he said hoarsely.
“I want to see you,” she whispered, her fingers grazing the waistband of his boxers.
