My fingers trace the muscles of her forearm. “Are you still going to take them? The suppressants?”
“I think you’re right,” she says quietly. “I need a tolerance break. And…” She holds her fur-lined hand up towards the TV. “This isn’t so bad.”
“You’re glorious,” I murmur.
“I’d ask if you’re okay with it, but I can smell just howin-heatyou are, so I know what you’re going to say.”
I wriggle against her, savoring the tug of her cock.
“Naughty little thing,” she purrs in my ear.
“Can I… can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Earlier you seemed… afraid. What were you afraid of?”
She rubs the back of my hand. “Of… not being in control. Of hurting you. Of… this.” She flexes her hand again, and I know she means the shift.
“Did you lose control?”
“Yes,” she says, voice hardly more than a breath.
“But you didn’t hurt me.”
“Not yet.” There’s a tightness in her tone.
“I’m very resilient.”
“Apparently.” She sighs, flexing her lengthened hand again. “I call this… ‘the beast.’ The instincts, the… impulses. I think this is the first time we’ve actually been on the same page.”
“How does it feel?”
“Almost as good as your ass does.”
Her knot throbs inside of me, and I groan.
“Stop that,” she teases.
“What?”
“Making noises like that.”
“I can’t help it! Besides, you started it.”
Her hand finds my neck, laying over the collar.
I gasp and whimper.
“What’s that?” she teases.
“C-case in point!” I choke out.
“Hmmm, I suppose that’s fair.”
“Just watch the show,” I grumble.
Morgan obliges and resumes her commentary.
