Page 23 of Magnum, Volume 1

When it finally subsided, I lay in the center of the bed, vibrator turned off and still in my hand, heart slamming, and entire body trembling while I stared up at the ceiling.

I needed a better outlet than this, and the frustration hit almost as hard as the orgasm had. I couldn’t do this every night, imagining him dominating me while I masturbated with the warm-blooded man of my fantasies asleep in the next room.

But there was no way I could walk into a kink club while I was hiding out from people who wanted me dead.

I was stuck here without options, but the prospect of living in the same house as the sexiest, most naturally dominant man I’d ever met while he corrected my work with all that implicit authority, making my body light up with just a measured look…

Fuck me.

The man didn’t even have to work to get me so hot-and-bothered I couldn’t see straight. Just that quiet, absolute expectation that things would be done his way was enough to make me want to go to my knees and promise obeisance.

Something had to give, but he’d already been more than clear about not starting anything fun while he was protecting me.

- - - ❖ - - -

Magnum

I lay with my dick grasped in my lotioned hand, slowly jacking myself while I listened to the sexy-as-fuck human woman in the room beside me get herself off once, twice, and then a third time that felt fucking devastating.

The house’s HVAC is designed to waft scents through the house, so I know, in the back of my mind, what’s going on outside my bedroom at all times, and this meant I could scent her arousal, her submission, her motherfucking surrender while she worked herself up to three damned orgasms in a twenty-minute span. She’d had to fight for that last one, at first, but once she’d gotten into the groove it’d been like a naughty little cunt begging to be fucking punished.

And the music didn’t drown anything out. I knew when the vibrator was on her clit and when it was fucking inside of that tight little cunt. I could even hear the waves of sound when her pussy convulsed around it, the sounds ever-so-slightly lower and higher.

It was clear to me this wasn’t going to work, her with a vibrator and me with my hand, night-after-night.

We had chemistry out the wazoo, and we’d be able to focus on our task at hand a helluva lot better if we just accepted it and put it into a schedule.

It would solve another problem, too. She’d known I wasn’t telling the entire truth when she’d asked how I’d seen the snake, and I’d be able to head those questions off better from a place of earned authority.

Ignoring the attraction was causing more problems than it fixed, which meant tomorrow morning was going to go completely differently.

There are two ways to start a power exchange relationship — the safe, boring, PC way, and the completely risky but sexy-as-fuck natural way.

And my gut told me I could make the latter work with this woman who was begging me to take control. The way she’d reacted to the anal and fisting questions told me all kinds of fun play would be possible, and her reactions to orders meant she clearly wanted to submit.

So I made plans in my head, deciding on rules and times while my hand went faster and faster, until I had the basics of a plan in my mind, and I finally came so hard my balls felt emptier than they’d been in damned months.

I’m not big on all the lifestyle safety precautions, but I needed to weave us through making sure this was consensual without spoiling the illusion of it just being me taking control and using her however I want, so I went through the stages I’d need from her. Scent would be my primary marker, but I’d be watching her face and listening to her sounds, too. If I got even a tiny clue she wasn’t on board with it, I’d back off and have the damned conversation, but everything I’d learned about this woman told me she’d rather go into this without having to ask for it.

- - - ❖ - - -

Magnum

I’d debated with myself over whether her bedroom would be off-limits to me, and I’d decided against it. No place safe from my absolute rule. No refuge. No escape.

And so, when I woke the next morning, I went into her room and made enough noise to wake her upon entry.

“The rules have changed,” I told her, keeping my voice low and quiet. “Did you think the music covered the sound of the vibrator? The tiny little sexy sounds you made while you got yourself off three motherfucking times?”

I strode to her bed and breathed in her scent — mortification followed by relief. She was embarrassed I’d heard for a split second, and then happy I had. Interesting.

I pulled the sheet and blanket off her and was pleased beyond words to discover I wouldn’t need to fight with pajamas, because she was completely naked.

But it was important she didn’t see my cock until after it’d been inside her. Most shapeshifters have normal-looking cocks, but turtles do not. The head of mine is larger than normal and more of a deformed ball than a defined shape. The shaft is a little thinner than the head for about two inches and then gets thick at a sharp angle, and the base of my cock is saucer-sized. It’s why I’d asked if she’d ever been fisted, because even women who can take a fist have trouble with the last four inches of my cock.

I’ve learned from experience it’s better if they feel me inside them before they see my dick, or they sometimes go running away so I never have the chance to sink inside their heat. And the human parts of me might be warm-blooded, but the turtle inside me still loves basking in the heat of a warm cunt or asshole.

I’d put loose shorts on to come to her, and hadn’t bothered with underwear, so I dropped the shorts and slid over the top of her all in the same motion, my weight on top of her before she knew what was happening, my legs between hers, forcing her open.