The second is directly below the first. Slightly thinner. Curved inward. Equally swollen. Equally desperate.
My brain completely stalls, frantically searching for the correct translation of what I am currently looking at. What is the word Rok called his?
Cock.
I have growntwococks?!
I cannot fitoneinside her.
I stare at the dripping thickness of them. Then I look at the narrow span of her hips.
A spike of absolute terror hits the center of my chest. I will break her. If I lose control of the feral hunger currently tearing through my blood, I will rip her in half.
I pull myself away from her, throwing my weight backward and staggering off the furs.
I hit the stone floor on my knees, my back slamming against the far wall of the alcove. I curl forward, pressing my forehead to the cold stone.
Dust. Dust and bones.
I will not touch her. I will protect her from myself.
Both shafts twitch insistently against my stomach.
Stop,I command them.
They do not stop. They pulse harder, the ridges swelling, the slick dripping steadily onto the stone between my knees. A small, glistening puddle is forming. I am hemorrhaging hydration from my cocks onto thefloor.
This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me, and I once had my ribs broken by a sand-grol. Except the broken ribs did not pulse with a desperate ache that feels better thananything I have ever experienced. I am losing control of my own being.
I try to cover myself with my claws. This proves to be an error in judgment. The instant my digits make contact, a bolt of scorching, electric pleasure shoots straight up my spine and rips a snarling groan out of my throat that rumbles off the cavern walls.
I snatch my claws away.
Do not touch them. Do not think about her. Do not breathe her scent.
I breathe her scent.
The thick, sweet scent that is her swims through the air and straight into my lungs and both shafts jerk upward so hard they slap wetly against my stomach. A fresh rope of slick splatters across my thigh.
I am going to die in this alcove. Killed by my own cocks. And Rok and the rest of my clan are going to find my body and laugh for the rest of their natural lives.
“Kol?”
Her voice comes from directly behind me. Remarkably steady. It lacks the terror I expect.
I do not turn around. I cannot turn around. I am currently hunched against a wall with two towering, engorged, slick-dripping shafts twitching uncontrollably against my stomach every time I inhale her scent, and if she sees the full scope of this situation I will lose her.
“Kol, turn around.”
I hear her feet pad softly across the stone floor. Getting closer.
“No. Stay back.”
The scent gets stronger. Hotter. A low, desperate growl rumbles in my chest. Both shafts are throbbing so hard that I can see the pulse in my own peripheral vision.
“Kol.” She is standing right behind me now. “You don’t have to hide against the wall. I was trapped under you for hours. I know there’s two.”
Her small soft hand lands flat between my shoulder blades.
