Page 139 of Given to the Black King

“Yes.”

“To what?”

“The second thing you have been trying not to ask.”

His mouth curves.

This time there is no rite to complete. No fangs waiting for permission. No lock yet.

Only curiosity.

I push him onto his back and climb over him.

He lets me.

I take him in my hand and rub the slick head through the wetness still coating me. The bond gives me his sensation beneath my palm. Heat. Pressure. The thick ring catching against my fingers.

I feel my own body answer from the inside.

The loop begins more gently this time.

I lower myself over him.

The crown enters. The ring slides in after it. The ridges drag through me. The fresh bite pulls when I lift my chin, a deep tender warning through the sealed muscle.

Torgan feels it with me. His hand comes behind my neck and holds the angle steady while I sink the rest of the way.

We both stop halfway.

“There you are,” I whisper.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

I sink down until he fills me.

His base begins to thicken again, but stops short of the locking swell. No bite. No venom surge.

I ride him slowly.

Each lift sends the ring through me and the sensation into him. Each descent brings his pleasure back through my chest. His hands guide my hips, claws curved safely around the marks from the hunt.

The pace builds.

I grip his horns.

His hips drive up.

The furs bunch beneath us. The bedframe strikes the wall. One iron bolt tears out of the stone with a crack. On the next drive, a second follows, and the whole frame jumps away from the wall. Dust falls across his shoulder. Neither of us stops.

I come first.

He feels it before I do. His mouth opens as the first contraction starts.

Then the climax takes him too.

This release is smaller, slower, but the bond makes it no less intense. I feel each pulse inside me and inside him. He feels my cunt tightening around the ridges and loses the last of his rhythm.