Page 121 of Heir to His Fang

His growl vibrates against my flesh, a dark, possessive sound that shoots through me like lightning, igniting every nerve ending in my body. His mouth is relentless, working me with a skill that can only come from centuries of knowing exactly how to unravel me. His tongue flicks and circles my clit with a precision that borders on cruel, the alternating pressure making my hips jerk uncontrollably. His fingers piston in and out of my dripping cunt, curling on every thrust to hit that spot deep inside that makes me see stars. The coil of pleasure in my belly winds impossibly tight, a spring coiled so tightly it is ready to snap.

“Zeidan!” I cry, my voice breaking as I claw at his shoulders, his dark hair, anything to anchor myself. “Please… don’t stop… I need…” I am babbling, pleading, completely lost in the sensations he is wringing from me.

My fingers tangle in his hair, yanking him closer, though he is already buried in me, impossibly deep. His free hand grips my hip with bruising force, holding me down as his mouth and fingers work me towards the edge of oblivion.

Fuck, I am so close.

The pleasure is a living thing, coiling tighter and tighter, winding up until I think I might shatter from the sheer intensity of it. His tongue lashes my clit one last time before his lips close around the swollen bud in a vicious, sucking motion that sends me spiraling. His fingers curl inside me, hitting that perfect spot, and it is too much, far too much.

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice a low, guttural command that brooks no argument. “Now.”

The climax hits like a train. It rips through me, blinding and milky, my cunt clamping rhythmically around his fingers. I scream his name, the sound raw and ragged in the quiet room. He drinks my release, his tongue gentling, lapping at me until the last tremor subsides and I am a boneless, gasping wreck.

Only then does he move up my body. His face is glistening with me. He kisses me, deep and filthy, letting me taste my own essence on his tongue. It is the most possessive, intimate thing I have ever experienced.

My hands fly to the fastening of his trousers. He helps, shoving them down. His cock springs free, thick and long, the head a dark, angry violet, beading with pre-cum. I wrap my hand around him, stroking from root to tip, feeling the velvety skin over the iron-hard shaft.

He hisses, his head dropping to my shoulder. “Your hand… fuck, you’re perfect.”

“I need you inside me,” I pant, guiding him to my soaked entrance. “Now. No more waiting.”

He doesn’t need more invitation. He nudges the broad head against me, spreading my slick folds. Then he pushes.

It is one slow, inexorable thrust that steals the air from my lungs. He fills me completely, stretching me in a way that borders on pain but is all pleasure. We freeze, joined to the hilt, his guttural groan echoing my own sigh.

“Mine,” he snarls into the skin of my neck.

The feeling is overwhelming. The sheer, solid reality of him, sheathed deep inside me. I can feel every inch, every pulse. I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back.

“Move,” I command, nipping at his earlobe. “Fuck me. I won’t break.”

A shudder racks his big frame. He withdraws almost all the way, the drag exquisite, then slams back in. The impact jars through me, a delicious shock. He sets a brutal, perfect rhythm, deep, pounding strokes that hammer that sweet spot inside me with every plunge. The bedframe slams against the stone wall with a rhythmic thud.

His control is unraveling. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. Sweat gleams on his skin. His cool lips are at my throat, his fangs a sharp promise against my pulse.

“Can you…?” I gasp, as he drives into me so deep I see stars.

“Not unless you beg for it,” he grits out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“I want it,” I moan, meeting his thrusts, taking him deeper. “I want you to take everything. Beg? I’m demanding it.”

That shatters him.

A raw, predatory growl erupts from his chest. His pace becomes punishing, a relentless, animalistic fucking that steals all thought. I feel my second climax coiling, a tidal wave building from my toes. His mouth finds the juncture of my neck and shoulder. I feel the sharp, exquisite puncture of his fangs.

I feel pleasure, richer and darker than anything I have ever known. It explodes through my veins, fused with the physicalecstasy of his relentless thrusts. My climax detonates, and that whites out my mind. My pussy convulses around him, pulsing violently, milking his length.

The sensation of my tight walls clamping down on him, combined with the intimate pull of his mouth at my throat, is his undoing. With a final, guttural roar, he buries himself to the hilt and comes. I feel the hot, pulsing flood of his release deep inside me, each jet triggering another, smaller aftershock of my own pleasure.

He drinks, and I float... I fall asleep wrapped around him.

For long minutes, there is only the sound of our ragged breathing, the slowing of our hearts. He gently retracts his fangs, his tongue lapping at the twin wounds in a soothing, intimate gesture that sends a final, sweet shudder through me. He collapses beside me, gathering me into his arms, my back to his chest. He is still inside me, both of us unwilling to break the connection.

The bond hums, saturated, a quiet sea after a storm.

I fall asleep wrapped around him, his arms secure, his presence steady, the bond settled into something that feels like home rather than fate. Outside, the world remains broken. Malrend may still be out there. The Wildspont still needs healing. Titles must be reclaimed. Justice must be finished.

But not tonight. Tonight, we choose to live.

And for the first time since all of this began, that feels like enough.