The air in the room grew heavier. Thicker. I could feel his focus on me, but I couldn’t think clearly. My brain was too clouded with visions of what he could do to me with that huge body and thick cock.
“I would only give you what you asked for,” he said. His voice was getting closer. “If you told me to stop, I would. I would let you shackle me to the floor and use me as you wanted if it would help you.”
I shook my head at the thought. I didn’t want him chained down at my mercy. At least not right now. No, I wanted him to make me come. And come. And come. Holding me down and pleasuring me until I was begging him to stop. Until this horrible ache in my pussy was gone and I was too sated to move.
“I only want to give you what you want,” he rumbled.
I could feel the heat of his body right behind me, and I shivered. His hot breath wafted over the nape of my neck, and I knew he’d bent down.
“All you have to do is tell me what that is,” he continued.
I might regret it in the morning, but I was too wild with need to think straight right now.
“I want you to use your hands and your mouth to make me come until I don’t hurt anymore. Until I can’t possibly come again.”
At my bold statement, I expected him to grab me or to snatch me off my feet and carry me to the bed. Instead, the tip of one clawed finger trailed down the side of my neck. His touch was whisper soft, but his claw was sharp. I shivered again at the combination of sensations.
The finger hooked the wild tangle of hair around my shoulders and pulled it to the side, baring my neck. Hot, soft lips touched the skin below my ear, lightly sucking as they moved down toward my shoulder.
A quiet moan escaped my lips as all my focus went to the feel of his mouth on my throat. The tip of his tongue traced the same line back up to my ear before his sharp fangs gave the lobe a light bite.
It wasn’t until I leaned back against him, letting his body take my weight, that his hands moved to my waist. They were so huge they spanned from the bottom of my ribcage to my hips. I felt tiny and fragile in his grip.
Even though I understood the strength in those hands, knew the destruction he must be capable of, I felt safe. Safer than I had in a long time.
I’d broken up with my last boyfriend a little over a year ago because I never felt safe. Not because he threatened me. Not because he hurt me. But because I couldn’t trust him to follow through on his word. Not when it came to remembering to stop at the store. Or when I needed him to pick me up at the dentist after I’d had laughing gas. If I couldn’t trust him to do what he said he would on small things, how could I ever trust him to handle something big?
In the past few days, Bokkan had somehow convinced me that he was trustworthy. That he was safe.
I sighed as his mouth moved to the back of my neck, his sharp teeth nipping ever so lightly at my skin. A shudder ranthrough my body, and goose bumps broke out on my arms and legs.
His nose nuzzled into my hair, and he inhaled deeply.
My breath caught in my throat as his hands flexed on my waist before moving down to my hips. His body curved over mine as his fingers gathered the material of the shirt I wore, lifting it slowly.
“If you want me to stop, tell me,” Bokkan whispered. “I do not want you to say yes when you wish to say no.”
I shook my head, and the movement of his hands ceased. I nearly cried because the wild, aching need in my body was growing worse with each passing moment.
“Leda, do you want me to stop?” he asked.
I tried to speak, but my throat was too tight. I cleared it, wetting my dry lips with my tongue. “No, don’t stop.” My voice was little more than a croak, but I managed to push the words past my lips.
He moved immediately, lifting my shirt high and baring my lower body. A firm touch to my inner thigh had me looking down. I watched as his tail wound around my leg, the tip coming to rest a few inches below the apex of my thighs.
I shivered at the soft, leathery skin sliding against mine. His tail was smooth and soft, like suede, but I could still feel the firm muscles flexing beneath the skin. It wound tighter around my leg, squeezing rhythmically. The tips of his claws were sharp against my hips. Using one hand to hold the shirt up, his other palm pressed to my bare abdomen. I couldn’t tear my gaze away as his hand smoothed down my skin until the tips of his fingers brushed my pubic hair. He paused for a moment, and I wondered if he wasn’t sure what to do. Then, I remembered that daemons didn’t have any body hair.
Awkwardness squirmed through me. Maybe he hated it, but didn’t want to say anything. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but he spoke before I did.
“Your skin is so delicate,” he rumbled, his mouth close to my ear. “I don’t want to scratch you.”
His hand disappeared from my belly, lifting above my head. A moment later, I heard four sharp snapping sounds and flinched. When his deep bronze hand moved over me again, I saw that his claws were now squared and blunted below his fingertips. He must have used his teeth to cut off the tips of his claws.
He didn’t hesitate this time, running his fingertips through the hair over my mound, straight to my slit. My head fell back when his index and middle fingers slid down each side of my clit and squeezed gently. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his hold simultaneously soothed the ache between my legs as it made me desperate for more.
His tail tugged at my thigh, and I stepped my right foot out a bit wider. Then, his fingers released my clit and slipped lower. His middle finger found my opening and slowly began to push inside. His digit was thick and long, fitting inside me perfectly. My muscles clenched around him, trying to pull him deeper, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. Something broader and heavier. Harder.
I reached behind me with my left hand, my fingers scrabbling for purchase against the outside of his thigh. My right hand wrapped around his forearm, holding on for dear life.
