“Are you going to sleep here tonight?” she asked, her eyes still closed.
“Well, it is my bed,” I said.
She made another soft sound which made me think she wasn’t too displeased by this. That she maybe even wanted me to sleep beside her.
Well, good. I refuse to spend half my night staring at her from a crystal chair across the room and the other half staring at her standing beside the bed. If I’m going to gawk at her all night, I’m going to do it from the comfort of my own bed, lying right next to her.
I was already getting a head start on the gawking. My eyes roamed her bare body, from her flushed, glowing face, to the valley between her breasts that I slipped the towel down. She made yet another sweet, painfully erotic sound, and when my towel reached her navel, then travelled lower, towards damp and glistening curls, she moaned and spread her legs.
It was as if I’d never come at all. My cock thickened and surged, aching for heat. For her. Tension crackled down my spine.
There was no tension in Torrance at all. She was languid, luxurious, completely relaxed and spread on the furs, her lips parted, eyelashes resting on her reddened cheeks.
I abandoned the towel, wanting her wet beneath me, and heaved myself up onto the bed. I loomed over her on my hands and knees, one palm sinking into the fur, my other hand pressing fingers to her chin, turning her face towards me.
“I remember your terms, Torrance,” I breathed against her lips, “Now you must remember mine. I get to kiss you, anytime, anywhere.”
She surprised me by angling her chin upwards, seeking my mouth with her own. Her eyes remained closed – I knew this because mine stayed open. I couldn’t stop looking at her.
Her tongue was tentative and sweet, sliding slowly against mine. I allowed her this exploration just for a moment. Soon, the flames inside me would surge, and I would have to kiss her the way I wanted to – claiming her with my mouth because I couldn’t claim her with my cock.
But stone of the sky, how I wanted to. I eased myself down until I was flush against her, my shaft hot and stiff against her belly, her breasts crushed to my chest. She wrapped her arms around my neck, drawing me even closer, and her legs spread wider, a silent invitation. Agonized and aching, I wondered if this was my bride’s way of punishing me for everything I’d done. If, with lovely malevolence, she’d contrived to make me want her beyond sanity, beyond reason, only to deny me entrance.
The thought was a brief one. I could not hold onto it, could not think of much of anything now besides how deliciously soft and warm she was against me, how incredible she smelled, how I wanted to taste her everywhere.
Before the kiss deepened to a point where I would not be able to tear myself away, I broke it off, nipping down her jaw, her neck. I groaned in lurid fascination when the brush of my mouth made her nipple tighten, a succulent bud desperate to be sucked. I could not deny her, and I sucked the dusky bud into my mouth. Torrance gasped and writhed, her fingers burying in my hair.
She was so sensitive. Sensitive everywhere. So attuned to my every movement, my every touch. The press of my hand brought redness to her skin. The merest whisper of my lips made her lashes flutter, her breath catch. This hot, wet suction made her nipple hard and pointed in my mouth, made her hips roll against me in a dizzyingly sensual wave.
I no longer believed she was trying to punish me. In fact, as I sucked her breast, bringing her close to the point of climax from that alone, I thought it far more likely that if I pressed my dripping cock between her legs now, she’d welcome it. She would do it silently, without acknowledgement, pretending the entire time it wasn’t really happening, too proud to say she’d let me in even when she came, clenching, around me. Her thighs were spread so wide, her hips undulating desperately, as if I were already inside her. My cock leapt, a thrill running from my tail to my testicles, at the way she begged me with her body.
But I would not do it until she begged me with her words. Until she put aside her pride, or her purity, or whatever it was that kept her mouth stubbornly closed even while her legs were open.
I suckled one breast, then the other, then kissed wetly down her abdomen, pausing to run my tongue in a lascivious circle around her navel. Cursed stars, I was so aroused that even this tiny, shallow divot became erotic, a hole for me to fondle, for me to fill. I moaned and darted my tongue inside, and Torrance’s muscles tightened.
I would have happily stayed there all night, like a worshipful and inexperienced fool, if the scent of her arousal were not so tantalizing, dragging me lower with invisible claws, making me grunt and groan as my nose brushed her dampened curls. I gripped her inner thighs, my own breath burning inside me as I spread her wide.
I feasted on her first with my eyes, admiring the delicacy of the silken skin, from her sensitive little nub nestled at the top to the glistening entrance that did everything except speak with actual words to beckon me inwards. Before my eyes, Torrance contracted, her cunt constricting, a hot muscular pulse that I wanted to feel, not just see.
She said no penetration with my cock, I reminded myself, a wickedness unfolding inside me. Well, then I’d simply penetrate her with my tongue instead. Remind her how good it was to have a part of her betrothed inside her.
Hands like stone, fighting to keep them gentle, fighting not to bruise her, I dove inward. A long moan tore from Torrance’s throat as I kissed along her seam. Her taste and scent nearly made me come undone, nearly made me ejaculate right there on the fur. I locked everything down, ignoring the roiling and inevitable wave, growing higher and higher in my groin, and focused solely on my bride.
I sucked her nub, the way I’d sucked her breast, until she quaked. She was so close, my wanton little bride, but I didn’t want her to come like this. I wanted her to come while I was inside her. I slid down and dipped my tongue inside.
My eyes fell closed as I gave into the sensation of rutting her with my tongue. Just like last time, she was incredibly wet. Not all species had females who self-lubricated like this. Oftentimes it was the male who became lubricated, if penetration was part of reproduction at all, anyway. I’d had dalliances with females in the past who required separate lubrication. It had never bothered me, but I realized now just how much I loved this feminine wetness. This delicious slick that told me how much Torrance wanted me. There was no hiding her reaction, no way to conceal this slippery honey that spilled for me and only me.
I swirled my tongue, swiping and curling, until her inner walls began to shake. I could tell from her breathing, from the desperate sounds she made, that she was right on the brink of orgasm. I slid one of my hands upwards, splaying it along her pelvis, nudging my thumb against her nub while my drenched tongue stroked inside her.
Sionnach save me, I loved the view from down here. Loved seeing my own hand in a hot, possessive stamp across her pelvis. Loved seeing the arch of her spine, the trembling of her breasts, her head thrown back. The only downside was that I could not see her face from here, and I vowed that the next time I devoured her, she’d be propped up on the pillows so I could watch her face when she fell apart.
There was no time to change her positioning now. She was already falling, her fingers digging against my scalp, her hips gyrating wildly against my face. Flickering pressure descended on my tongue, milking, and once again I very nearly lost control, nearly spilled everything I had.