“I’m honored,” she said, meaning it. His uncertainty was plain, but he was bearing with it for now. The thought of coaxing him into a state of pleasure was heady, and Maeve could hardly wait.
She liked to take charge in situations like this, it was true.Previous partners had called her bossy, even dominant, and Maeve couldn’t argue. She was. She knew what she wanted from an encounter, and she meant to get it. Usually, it was to lead, to claim a man’s pleasure for herself. There was something intoxicating about bringing a man to his peak, having him vulnerable and at her mercy like that.
Of course, she liked finding her own pleasure, too, but she didn’t really need a partner for that. Her hand sufficed for that many a time. But this thrill, having this experience with someone, was its own kind of bliss.
She wanted that for Soren—and she wanted it for herself, too.
“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” she said.
Maeve thought he might’ve muttered something like, “Impossible,” or what sounded like it in his own language, but her own breathing had quickened, as well as her pulse.
Excitement made her hands shake as she crawled over him. With a nudge from her nose, he complied and leaned back, taking his weight on his palms, and straightened his legs in front of him. Humming her approval, Maeve straddled one of his thick thighs—no reason they shouldn’t both have fun.
He watched, riveted, as she unbuckled his belt and peeled away the sides of his kilt. The largest, most divine cock she’d ever seen sprang free, standing tall and proud in the soft lavender light. Red and engorged, the head was indeed spade-shaped as she’d felt. And there was that intriguing bulge lining the base.
Greedy to feel him, Maeve took him in hand, moaning as he scorched her palm. Soren jerked as if she’d scorched him back, and she heard his claws scrape against stone.
There was more light to see him by this time around, and Maeve took her time, indulging in every contour, tracing every vein. Her hips began to unconsciously rock, creating a delicious bit of friction between her legs. He could surely feel her own heat through her silk stockings and underthings, and as she watchedhim begin to breathe harder, great chest expanding and falling like a bellows, Maeve pressed herself more firmly against his thigh.
Oh, yes.
Perhaps she could work them both to orgasm.
With renewed determination, Maeve played with his glorious cock in one hand and petted his soft mane with the other. She kept her downstrokes light but added a little more pressure on the upstroke, eliciting moans that ran deeper and deeper with each pass.
On her next downstroke, she lingered around the base, exploring the bulge there with her fingertips.
“What’s this?” she asked breathlessly.
After a long, meaningful groan, his head fallen backwards, he told the treetops, “My knot.”
“A knot…” Maeve stared at it in wonder. Ooh, yes, that would feel wonderful inside her, she just knew it. Her cunt seemed to agree, clenching around nothing, a pang of intense need spearing up her middle.
Leaning closer to kiss his throat before picking up the pace of her hips, Maeve flourished attention on the knot, tracing the rim with the pad of her thumb and flicking the top edge with a nail.
“Does this keep you inside longer?” she wondered aloud. “Extend your claim?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
Maeve’s hips snapped down, an orgasm gathering between her legs. Fates, she’d wet his thigh at this rate. The idea of that knot inside her, of this big cock splitting her wide, had her panting as hard as him. Craving hooked its wicked claws inside her, her hips and hand losing their rhythm to something more feverish, more needy.
“Soren,” she moaned.
He showed off all his pearly sharp teeth in his grimace ofpained pleasure. “I can’t hold—”
“That’s all right,” she crooned, “come for me.” She needed him to come first, for her sanity.
A mighty groan buzzed against her ear, and then with awhuff, Maeve found herself falling backwards onto the moss. Her landing was softened by the green cushion and one of Soren’s big paws cradling the back of her head. He held her gently, yet there was a distinct proprietary feel to his touch, his claws just digging into her scalp, warning her not to think of getting away.
Soren loomed above her, his eyes wild, his ears pinned back. His free hand came down on the other side of her head, and she heard how his claws scraped through the ground by her ear.
“Can’t hold back,” he growled.
He let go of her head to instead gather her hands and hold them just above her. It took but a moment, Maeve left breathless and blinking, wondering when exactly this had turned.
Her skirts were next, impatiently thrown up to her waist to expose her stockings and underthings. His growl grew in volume and ferocity the more of her he revealed. Maeve squirmed beneath him, not quite ready for the intensity of his attention, but he gave her no quarter.
An undignified sound caught in her throat when his head dropped to taste her there. The wide flat of his tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat before running up the column of her neck. A rumbling growl accompanied the heat, and Maeve was left stunned when he did it again, this time pushing down her neckline to burrow his nose between her breasts and lick from sternum to throat.
