Chapter Thirteen
Jonus
Iclose the bathroom door and grip the edge of the sink.
My reflection stares back at me. Dark eyes, clenched jaw, white tusks protruding and horns that need filing. I look like a male on the edge. Because I am.
My cock has been painfully hard since I woke up with Sloane’s soft body pressed against mine, her curves fitting perfectly into the spaces of my larger frame. Her breath warm on my chest. Her lips—oh, those soft, perfect lips—brushing against my skin in what she probably thought was a secret kiss.
I felt everything. My female wants me as much as I want her.
I told her I wanted to wait to touch her and start anything real between us. I meant it. I want to wait for a female who is committed, and Sloane isn’t in a place in her life where she could commit to me. She only recently broke up with her worthless human fiancé. And I’m reasonably certain she doesn’t fully understand what mating with me entails. I’m not a human malewho can date, or pleasure mate. If I have sex with her, I will fill her with my son. Is she ready to be a mother?
A new thought enters my brain. I realize I am ready to be a father. I’m twenty-nine years old and all this time spent following my own path, doing what I wanted, when I wanted was great. But I am ready to slow down and give all my time to my offspring.
A moan of desire escapes my lips as I imagine what it would be like to sink inside of my female and jet all my cum, knowing we are creating a child.
My body continues to throb, awaiting the moment when I can plant my seed.
Luckily, this is not winter. I now begin to truly understand why Garlen had no self-control and we had to chain him in the basement last winter and why he still chose to remain chained until spring.
Each night I sleep next to her I will be tempted but I must remain strong, waiting for her full consent and in fact, waiting for my own consent too.
I strip naked, my cock bouncing in front of me. It’s engorged, with seed leaking from the slit. I need to find relief so I can at least walk around without it tenting my pants.
I step inside the shower and choose cold water at first which does nothing. Hot water now. Steam fills the small room and fogs the mirror. I brace one arm against the tile wall and look down at my angry green shaft, at the way it curves toward my stomach, demanding attention I’ve never had to give it before.
Because this has never happened to me. Not once in my entire life.
I’ve never felt a hint of need before. Always wondering what all the fuss was about. What type of feelings could possibly course through my body so strong as to cause me to want arandom human female so much, at my side, for the entire rest of my life?
But now...
Now I can’t stop thinking about her.
The way Sloane looked at me this morning when she woke in my arms. The flush on her cheeks. The scent of her arousal filling my lungs until I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to reach between her legs and feel the wetness I’m sure she had for me.
My hand wraps around my cock.
The sensation is intense. Almost too much. I’m not used to this—the thickness, the heat, the slick moisture already gathering at the crown. My body is ready to plant seed in my female. Ready to claim her.
I stroke slowly at first, testing. Learning what my own body wants after all these years of silence. Images flood my mind. Sloane underneath me, her legs wrapped around my waist. Her wide hips in my hands as I position her. Those flashing blue eyes looking up at me with trust and desire. Her mouth open, gasping my name.
Yes, Jonus. Please.
My hand moves faster. I learn that I like rough, mean, strokes.
What if this hand was Sloane’s? My breath comes harder.
I imagine sinking into her wet heat, claiming her completely. Filling her with my seed and watching her belly swell with my son. “Mine,” I growl, the word rumbling through my chest.
The pressure builds at the base of my spine. My balls tighten. Every muscle in my body coils toward release.
I throw my head back and groan her name as I jet my come on the wet tile. “Sloane.”
It crashes through me in waves—pleasure so intense my vision whites out at the edges. My cock pulses in my grip, spilling more and more against the tile, and I can’t stop thesounds escaping my throat. Low, guttural groans that echo off the bathroom walls.
It goes on and on. Longer than I expected. More powerful than I imagined.
