Page 31 of Bitten By the Basilisk

He bellowed as he came, slapping deep, grinding, then pumping some more, over and over, urged on by her satisfied whimpers and moaned praise. Half a minute passed before he could release Alice’s arms to grasp her waist, another thirty seconds before he could unclench any other part of himself.

When his body sagged at last, he became aware of regular flutters along his still-pulsing cock, heat pricking his skin everywhere his gear covered him. His hearing had gone quiet but was opening back up, filling his ears with his own heaving breaths and booming pulse.

Once his eyes could again focus, he saw only fog on the inside of his visor, prompting him to remove his helmet and toss it aside. As welcome as a breath of fresh air was, the vision Alice made beneath him was even more satisfying—panting, cheeks flushed, eyes gently closed, looking so thoroughly fucked, especially with his cock still fully sheathed in her glistening body.

But his pride was short-lived, vanishing the second he spied bright-red marks on her arms.

“No, no, no.” He whipped off his jacket.

“Hmm?” she responded, lifting her chin, her eyes still shut.

He carefully lifted one of her arms, supporting it from beneath while gently turning it this way and that to inspect it, praying he hadn’t bruised her. However, the marks looked to be diffuse—no broken capillaries.

Still, guilt sat heavy in his gut. He had somehow convinced himself he could be gentle with someone not of his kind, and yet he’d underestimated not only his strength but his control.

“Mm, you didn’t hurt me,” she murmured, reaching for him, her expression blissful.

In utter disbelief, he couldn’t resist being drawn toward her, shifting to lie atop her smaller, softer body, his weight braced on his arms, his legs extended behind him.

“You can be honest,” he muttered, worried she was minimizing what he’d done, even as she cupped his jaw and pulled his face closer. “I was too rough.”

“You were perfect,” she whispered against his lips, wrapping her silken limbs around him. “Everything was perfect.”

He couldn’t deny her a kiss, or rather several, each one convincing him more and more that she had enjoyed every moment, including when he’d overpowered her. He slid an arm beneath her, holding her closer, not wanting to let go. Ever.

Now there was no denying their chemistry together, nor his territorial instinct that even at this moment demanded to arrange a courtship gift for her, to prove himself stronger, smarter, more loyal than any other, to claim her in his serpent form again and again until her womb quickened.

He was so fucked.

Chapter Ten

Alice

She was so fucked. Literally. No one had ever left her in such a state of bliss—head spinning, limbs like jelly, everything between her navel and hips feeling like melted butter. She could count on one hand the number of times she had come from penetration, and all of them would be from tonight.

And now the supe responsible was standing in his insanely high-end kitchen, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants and a black chef’s apron while he prepared them a two-a.m. “snack” that involved a huge cutting board, multiple bowls, a fry pan, a baking sheet, and an armful of ingredients from his walk-in pantry and massive refrigerator.

She would have been more than satisfied with a cup of instant ramen, perhaps upgraded with a soft-boiled egg, a little miso paste, and some scallion greens, but Silas really hadn’t been kidding when he’d said his kind had big appetites.

He had suavely declined her offer to help, directing her instead to sit in one of the low-backed, cushioned barstools on the other side of a long kitchen island. In front of her sat a glass of ice water containing a slice of lemon. She’d drunk half of it already, needing the hydration after such an intense workout.

The short-sleeved shirt he’d lent her hung loose and long, the V-shaped neck sliding to one side, exposing part of her shoulder. She had to tuck it beneath herself to sit, her panties too stained to put back on, but a quick trip to his lavish bathroom had seen her cleaned up.

When she had reached for him, wanting to feel his flanks as he fucked her into the bed, only for him to snag her arms and use them to pull her into each thrust, she swore she nearly astral-projected, except she had been coming too hard, drowning in too much pleasure, not to be firmly stuck inside her body.

His concern for the temporary redness on her arms had been sweet and rather unexpected, giving her the sense that he’d been afraid of hurting her. An insecure part of her assumed he was treating her with extra care because he saw her as he would a normie, but she had to acknowledge he could indeed injure her with much less effort than a human.

After all, he had chucked Brett the vampire as easily as a five-pound sack of rice, and had lifted the front end of his motorcycle as if it were a children’s bike, not to mention how effortlessly he’d carried her.

Those powerful arms deftly tossed thinly sliced red onion as it cooked in a fry pan. His wide, hard shoulders bunched and rolled as he rapidly whisked a liquid mixture that appeared to include sesame seeds. His back flexed as he grated a hunk of pale-yellow cheese.

His obvious expertise was wildly attractive. She had only been peckish when he’d offered to feed them, but once she recognized he was preparing French bread pizza to bake in one of his two ovens, her stomach suddenly felt cavernous.

“You must spend a lot of time in here,” she remarked, idly playing with the end of one of her sleeves. The fabric was thick and almost glossy, not something found at a typical shopping mall. “I didn’t see you consult any recipes. You clearly know what you’re doing.”

“Partly out of necessity. If I must eat so often, it should look and taste good.” He bent to open the preheated oven directly beneath the stove and slid in the baking sheet containing two long slices of French bread topped with a white sauce, baby spinach, prefried onion, herbs, and grated cheese.

“I quickly found myself enjoying the process—trying new techniques, new ingredients.” While the pizza baked, he dumped several ounces of chopped chocolate into a steel bowl he’d placed over a pot of heated water and added a small scoop of coconut oil.