Page 131 of Given to the Black King

“Harder.”

His bite tightens.

The mark will be dark tomorrow.

Good.

He moves down my body without speaking again. Mouth on my stomach. Tongue over the bite at my hip. Claws spreading my thighs while the flat sides press warm against my skin.

He lowers his face between my legs and breathes in.

The sound that leaves him is raw.

“My mate.”

“Not yet.”

His eyes lift.

“Finish it.”

He does.

He sets his mouth at a hard slant, both points clear of the flesh he tastes. His tongue opens me with one long stroke, then presses hard against my clit.

His name breaks out of me as I pull on his horns.

The reaction tears through him. His claws sink into the furs beside my thighs. His mouth seals around me, lower lip and tongue doing the work while the fang points remain visible above.

He puts two fingers inside me.

Then three.

I am sore from the hunt and bruised from the attack. He feels the resistance and slows without asking. Works the muscles open. Uses his tongue until the ache becomes heat.

“More,” I say.

His fingers curl.

The first climax hits fast. My hips lift from the furs. His forearm pins me safely while my body clenches around his hand.

He keeps going.

I try to close my legs.

His palms catch my thighs. The claws curve around them without touching.

“No,” I gasp.

He stops.

Looks up.

I am shaking too hard to breathe properly.

“Continue.”

The old voice rolls through me.