Page 74 of Given to the Black King

“How much pressure?”

“Very little.”

She drags it slowly beneath her nipple.

The claw does not break skin. It leaves a pale line that turns pink behind it.

Her breath shakes.

“Again.”

I try to pull my hand away.

She grips my wrist. “Ask me.”

I understand the correction.

“Do you want the claw again?”

“Yes.”

I sit up beneath her.

With my left arm around her back, I guide the flat side of one claw over her other breast. Lightly. The point hovers above her skin.

She arches into the touch.

“More.”

I add pressure.

The claw draws a red line over the soft curve. No blood.

Her hips grind over my hard cock through the sheets.

The fang ache stutters.

She feels the change in my body. “Better?”

“For one breath.”

“Then take another.”

She reaches down and closes her hand around me.

My cock is already slick. Her thumb circles the flare, then traces the two hard lines down the underside.

I growl.

She strokes once. Twice. Then stops.

“Oil.”

I reach for the bottle beside the bed.

She takes it from me.

“I control this.”