A mischievous smile curled her lips, and Maeve touched each of her hands to his lower thighs.
His throat bobbed on a hard swallow. “You can’t mean—?”
“Can’t I?” she said, brow arching as she moved her cushion around to soften where she stood on her knees in front of him. Running her hands up and down his thighs, going a little higher every time, she batted her lashes as she asked, “Unless you don’t want to?”
That was another matter entirely, of course, but she needn’t have worried.
A groan that sounded dredged from the very bottom of his chest escaped him, and the claws on his toes dug into the dirt, as if to root him in place. Every muscle seemed to strain, standing starkly against his fur, and he gritted his fangs together when he finally said, “If you want.”
“Oh, I do,” she assured him before pecking his cockhead in a quick kiss.
His skin jumped as if shocked, something between a purr and a growl brewing in his chest.
Maeve filled her hands and then her mouth with him greedily, wanting to see how he tasted. She started gently, with teasing fingertips and kisses, slowly building up speed and pressure. By the time she was ready to attempt taking his cockhead in her mouth, he stood fully erect, knot engorged and slit weeping.
He murmured her name and a litany of other things, nice words that sounded like prayers, as his hands came to gently frame her head. His touch was light, carding through her hair, and Maeve felt emboldened. She didn’t usually like for a man to hold her head or hair while she did this—it made the act feel as though he was taking his pleasure rather than her bestowing it. Something about the difference in dynamic left her cold. However, she’d never begrudge the delicious scrape of his claws on her scalp, the gentle pressure making her melt.
He was salty and musky like any other man, although there was a slight difference in his taste. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it wasn’t bad. No indeed, the way his hot shaft split her lips, the way his spade-shaped head fit against her tongue, and the salty tang of him on the back of her throat weren’t bad at all.
Moaning, Maeve valiantly took as much as she could,impressing even herself as she worked more and more of him into her mouth. She could never take all of him like this without far more practice, but she was proud to claim at least half.
Although it was she with a mouth stuffed full of cock, it was Soren who sounded choked. Almost pained noises were muffled behind his gritted teeth, and his eyes were nearly shut in his grimace of pleasure. If his hips hadn’t been gently rocking to meet her mouth, she might’ve thought she was hurting him.
Maeve felt the wild, feral look in his eye all the way down to her toes and back. Her cunt clenched unhappily, before beginning to throb. Needy for a little attention.
Unable to bear it anymore, Maeve reached under her skirts to give herself some relief. Her pleased moan vibrated around Soren’s cock, bringing a roar and spurt of spend.
So when he pulled back, popping free of her lips, Maeve was surprised he didn’t paint her with ropes of it. His glistening cock bobbed angrily in the daylight, a pearlescent bead of spend dribbling down the underside. When she ducked to lick it up, moaning greedily, his claws caught her fast.
“Don’t you want to come?” she pouted.
A frenetic growl was her answer. Quicker than she could track, she was up and then down again, being laid back against the tree with the cushion to cradle her head. Soren surged over her, blocking out the sun as he flipped up her skirts and pulled her hand away.
“Inside. Need inside.”
Maeve gasped in delight and surprise when he took the neckline of her gown by the teeth and yanked it down. There was a ripping sound somewhere, but that hardly mattered. Her breasts sprang free, and he was there, feasting on one while filling a fist with the other.
“Soren,” she moaned, her hand straying to her throbbing clitoris.
Another growl, and one of his hands was there, batting her away. He replaced her fingers with his own, his movements impatient. Two fingers plunged inside without preamble, making Maeve arch off the ground.
“Soren!”
His fingers curled just so, finding that place inside her that made her see stars. He rubbed there ruthlessly, his predator eyes unblinking, entirely focused on her face.
They were the eyes of theturuklooking at her then, beastly and intense. A sharp orgasm began to ripple through her, sucking his fingers deeper inside.
“Can’t be gentle this time,” he warned, his voice so guttural, it was nearly the beast’s. “He’s too close.”
Reaching up to grab a fistful of mane, Maeve tugged him down to her. “Good,” she growled back.
His slitted pupils blew wide, and a smirk teased his lips.
“Eremit kigará,” he purred.
Her smile fell away when his fingers slid out, leaving her bereft, denying her her orgasm. Maeve’s lips parted on an outraged gasp, falling open wider as Soren surged over her, burning cockhead pushing at her entrance.
He replaced his fingers with his dripping cock, working himself inside in rough, determined strokes. Maeve’s legs fell open wider to make more room, breasts bouncing with the force of his invasion. A paw landed on one breast, squeezing the giving flesh. Maeve moaned, covering his hand with hers and hanging on as Soren pounded inside.
