"Oh no." I shifted away, pressing my thighs together in a futile attempt at protection. "You are not ruining these panties."
His brow lifted in that arrogant way he had, the unspoken challenge clear in his golden eyes. I knew that look—I had approximately three seconds to get them off my body if I wanted to save them from his impatient hunger.
I had them off in two.
The lace hit the floor in a whisper of fabric, quickly followed by everything else. The cool air of the room kissed my heated skin, raising gooseflesh across my arms and chest. I was naked, completely exposed to his gaze, while he remained frustratingly clothed.
"Your turn," I breathed, the words barely audible over the rushing sound of blood in my ears.
Egon took a step back, creating space between us that felt like miles. His hands moved to his shirt, and I watched, utterly fascinated, as he revealed himself to me piece by glorious piece.
His chest emerged first—a landscape of sculpted muscle and alien perfection that defied description. Never-ending muscles rippled beneath skin that seemed to glow with its own inner light. Rock-hard abs contracted with each breath he took, drawing my eye down, down, down to where his pants still clung to narrow hips.
But it was the silver that captured my attention completely. Strange streaks ran through his skin in a grid-like pattern, threads of liquid mercury that seemed to pulse with faint luminescence. I'd never seen anything like it—alien, otherworldly, completely foreign.
How I’d not noticed them before, I wasn’t sure. They were thinner than a strand of hair. Scattered over his torso in seemingly random order. If I wasn’t obsessed with inspecting every inch of him, I never would have noticed them.
It didn't distract from his sexual appeal. He looked like a god come to life, some ancient deity of war and passion stepped down from mythology to claim his mortal bride.
When his fingers found the closure of his pants and he pushed them down his thighs, I became genuinely dizzy. My grip tightened on the edge of the small table behind me, anchoring myself against the wave of arousal and apprehension that crashed through my system.
I knew Egon was big. I'd felt the hard press of him inside me before, the evidence of his desire impossible to ignore. But knowing and seeing were entirely different experiences.
The beast's private parts made my breath catch in my throat.
Good grief. I had no idea how that fit inside me. It just did.
Logic said he was too big, too hard, too impossibly male. The sheer size of him should have terrified me, should have sent me running for the door.
My pussy wept for him. Instead of worry, every part of me softened with want. Liquid heat pooled between my thighs in preparation.
I lost my train of thought entirely as Egon moved with that supernatural speed he possessed. He carried me to the bed and laid me down, my hips near the edge. He dropped to his knees before me with a grace that belied his massive frame. His big hands gripped my thighs, spreading my legs apart with gentle insistence, and then his mouth closed over my most sensitive flesh like he was devouring me whole.
The cry that tore from my throat was unrecognizable—high and broken and desperate. His tongue swept through my folds with devastating thoroughness, learning every secret, every sensitive spot, every place that made me tremble. His fingers found my entrance, pressing inside with a rhythm that matched the devastating movements of his mouth, and my back arched up off the bed as he pushed me toward an orgasm harder and faster than I'd ever thought possible.
The pleasure built like a storm, pressure gathering at the base of my spine, coiling tighter and tighter until I was panting, writhing, begging without words.
He grunted against my flesh, the vibration of sound sending shockwaves through my oversensitive nerves. Then he lifted his head, his lips glistening with my arousal.
"Mine," he rumbled, his voice rough with restrained need.
Adding another finger to my core, he began moving three thick digits in and out of my body with agonizing slowness. The stretch burned in the most delicious way, preparing me, opening me for what was to come. He kissed his way up my body as he worked me—my trembling thighs, the soft curve of my belly, the undersides of my breasts—worshipping every inch of skin he could reach.
When he sucked my nipple into the heat of his mouth, I nearly came off the bed. The dual sensation of his fingers pumping inside me and his tongue swirling around my breast had me teetering on the edge of madness.
My hands fisted at my sides, nails digging into my palms. Screw that. I buried my fingers in his hair—those thick, silky strands I'd been dreaming about—and pulled his head down harder against me.
I wanted more pressure. Faster. Fingers deeper. Just... more.
Egon growled against my breast, the sound vibrating through my chest, and doubled his efforts. His fingers curled inside me, finding that perfect spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. His thumb pressed against my clit, circling, rubbing, driving me higher.
I came with a primitive cry I'd never heard before—not from my throat, not from any human throat. The sound was raw, animal, completely uninhibited. But I could not stop. The orgasm crashed over me in waves, going on and on, relentless, devastating.
Before I could fully recover, before I could catch my breath or clear the haze from my vision, Egon moved. He positioned himself at my entrance, the broad head of him pressing against my still-pulsing core. With one slow, steady thrust, he pushed forward, stretching my sensitive muscles around his hard length, filling me so completely that I saw white.
The burn of his entry was exquisite—too much and not enough, pleasure and pain intertwined so tightly I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. He moved with agonizing patience, sinking deeper with each thrust, pushing me higher even as my body struggled to accommodate his size.
When he was finally buried to the hilt, when I could feel him everywhere, throbbing inside me, claiming me completely, he stilled. His golden eyes locked onto mine, waiting for me to recover, to focus, to truly see him.
