She gasped as the crop, the tip now wet, slapped the side of her hip, leaving an immediate red mark.
“Never.”
He chuckled, his gaze searching her face, flushed and hot, gauging her readiness.
“What if I told you I couldn’t stand another moment?” he asked, the crop following the curve of her waist upward, dipping under her breast, over her nipple, clamped and chained to its pair.
Mother smirked, her eyes bright. “I win.”
Father Goose gave a low growl, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her hard, his tongue plunging deep, making her moan. His cock pressed her belly and she ground her hips forward, her pussy searching, but he moved back just enough to keep it out of her reach.
“Who wins?” he murmured, waving Molly back. The cat woman had lifted her head protectively at the sound of his growl, stalking forward to make sure her mistress wasn’t being harmed. Seeing their play, hearing Mother’s moan, Molly stretched, yawned, and curled back up in the chair.
“We do.” Mother gasped as he knelt before her, plunging his tongue between the soft, smooth lips of her pussy. She moaned, grabbing his hair-her hands were free, as she was restrained only by her wings-and pressing him against her mound. “Ohhh Artan…”
His tongue lashed at her clit, his fingers probing deeply into her wetness. She felt as if she’d waited forever for this, and his giving was the best gift. Her whole body trembled with her desire, her wings shaking and straining against her bonds as she spread herself wider for the soft press of his tongue.
“Who’s your master?” He stopped, shoving her hips back against the wall, making her gasp. “Tell me, Maren. Who do you belong to?”
“You,” she breathed, her fingers lost in his dark curls. “It was always you. It has ever been.”
His mouth fastened itself between her legs, sucking and licking with a fierce persistence that sent her flying-it was better than flying. When he tugged gently on the chain fastened between her nipples, pulling off first one clamp and then the next, she moaned and let him take her climax, grateful for her bonds as she bucked and shuddered, the hot, wet heat between her thighs pulsing against his tongue again and again.
She panted, gasping, unable to hold herself up, and he stood to support her, unlocking her manacles and letting her fall into his arms, folding her into the soft press of his wings. He took her that way, wrapped in a safe cocoon, to their bed, pulling her onto him and positioning her poised above the aching throb of his cock.
“Ahhhh Maren,” he groaned as she slid him inside of her, rocking on him, her hips moving back and forth, shifting his cock deep. She rode him that way, looking down at his wings spread, now, on the mattress, and he gripped her grinding hips as she balanced herself with her hands against his broad, strong chest. His eyes half closed in anticipation of his ultimate pleasure, letting her take him there, push him toward the edge with every shift of her body.
She’d waited so long, through hours of his sweet torture, that her body reached its peak again first, her wings spread wide as she came, her dark hair falling in contrasting midnight waves as her head went back, eyes closing. He grabbed her aching breasts, squeezing, tugging, thrusting himself up hard into her spasming wetness.
“Maren!” He called her name again as his orgasm overtook him, the heat of it filling her throbbing pussy. She moaned and collapsed against his chest, and he wrapped her up again in his arms, both sets of their wings spread wide, their tips touching as they kissed themselves back to earth.
Mother rolled off him finally, folding herself up beside him, and he tucked her head under his chin with a happy sigh, his eyes closing. “Nap time.”
“Molly seems to think so,” Mother replied with a laugh as the cat woman snuck up onto the bed and curled her soft self against Mother’s side. She was the only one they had kept. The other two had been too excitable when either of them had changed from human to bird form. Molly was the only one who, while interested in the transformation, didn’t act as if they were dinner. Old King Cole had been happy to add them to his cat folk collection, and Mother knew they were happy there, with much more room to roam.
“Jill will be over in less than an hour,” Mother smiled at her husband’s almost-snore as he woke himself up at her words. “They’re so happy down the hill, in that house that Jack built. I would expect we’ll have little redhaired babies running around some time next year.”
“Mmm,” Father agreed, not opening his eyes. “Less than an hour, huh?”
“You and Molly can take a catnap,” Mother said indulgently, rubbing her cheek against his bare chest. “I’ll entertain Jill.”
“Tempting.” He smiled, pulling her closer as she tried to move away. “But I prefer birds to cats.”
“Mother!” The sound of Willie’s voice startled them both and Mother sat up, glancing down to see the little man carrying the large nest they’d made for the precious thing Artan had brought home with him-the golden egg, she saw, was cracked along one side, an entirely new development.
“Is it time?” she gasped as Father sat up beside her.
“I’ve been sitting on it long enough,” Willie grumbled, watching at the egg shook and trembled. “Very undignified.”
“You’ve done a wonderful job, precious.” Mother smiled, kneeling down before the wooden, down-filled box, glancing up at her husband. “You know, if it was ever revealed that it’s the men of our species are the ones who lay the eggs…” Artan gave her a black look. “Do you think I’m so unsure of my masculine nature? Or shall I strap you to the wall again?”
Mother chuckled, running her hand over the fragile surface of the egg. “And all that time, I thought I just couldn’t get pregnant…”
“Mother! Look!” Willie was excited, in spite of his annoyance at being appointed temporary mother-hen, and even Molly peered over the side of the bed to watch the hatching. It was the tip of the wet wings, with their sharp, taloned edges, that were sharp enough to break through the surface, and they all watched, fascinated, as their offspring emerged.
“She’s beautiful,” Mother whispered, tears stinging her eyes as she lifted the naked, wet human baby, who didn’t cry but rather crowed in her mother’s arms. Father Goose looked proudly over his wife’s shoulder at the bundle of flesh and feathers cradled in her arms.
“Just like her mother,” Artan whispered, kissing Maren’s cheek. “Sweet little bird.”
“Now you really are a Mother… Goose.” Blue spoke from the doorway, leaning there with a huge grin spread across his face. He had brought Jill up behind him, and Jack had come too. They poked their heads past the big man to see.
“The baby’s here!” Jill squealed in delight.
Mother Goose kissed the drying forehead of her daughter, looking up at her husband through a prism of tears. “And you’re a father.”
“I’ve never been happier or prouder to be anything.” Artan unhooked the medallion from around his neck, dangling in front of his newborn daughter. The child’s hands waved, batting at it. “I suppose it will be a while before she can wear this.”
“A while, yes.” Mother smiled. “But she will fly free with us.”
“Yes.” Father nodded, kissing first his baby, and then his wife, echoing the sentiment as he put the medallion back on, glancing around at the smiling members of their make-shift family gathered around them. “Free. Wherever we decide to go.”