Page 52 of Primal Hunger

My name is nothing more than two gravelly syllables ripped from the back of his throat as pleasure spirals through me.

The longer he works on me, the harder he gets, until he’s growling through every touch. The brush of his fur accompanied by his steady working of my clit has me inching closer to orgasm.

My gaze drops to his erection, to the massive length and the bulbous head.

I lick my lips.

If I hadn’t already been impaled by him, I wouldn’t have thought it possible to fit him inside of me. But my body somehow found a way.

Why am I so attracted to him?

He’s not human and there is nothing remotely human about him.

“Yes, little human,” Syros groans. He looms over me and brings the tip of his snout to my head, inhaling deeply. “You know you are ready.”

He brushes his knuckle to my throbbing pussy again before he changes the angle, pushing one clawed digit inside. I gasp atthe intrusion and my legs wobble. The claw scrapes my insides and the mix of pleasure and danger has me closer than ever.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? You are soaked for me, radiant. Hotter than a fire.” His voice holds an edge of humor. “You can’t wait for me to fuck you.”

Words evade me.

He twists his sharp-clawed finger around inside my channel and I clench around him. The orgasm crashes over me, causing me to gasp, my head dropping back on my neck and my breath stolen. Every part of me goes tight and hot.

In the next moment, Syros pulls his finger free, taking me by the waist in both hands and hauling me out of the tub fast enough for me to gasp.

My feet dangle in the air for half a beat before he sets me down, turning away to grab a stool from someplace in the shadows. Syros sets the stool down, settles himself on top of it with his legs splayed and his cock jutting out into the air.

That is the only part of him even remotely familiar, anatomically speaking. The soft flesh is at odds with the rest of his dark fur. I can’t look away.

He growls. “Come.”

“I already did,” I whisper.

“Your humor is out of place here. Come, now, or I will be forced to take more drastic measures with you. I will show you what happens if you displease me.” He stops. “If I’m not able to fuck younow, I’ll be displeased.”

It seems as though it’s his own brand of humor, and the small edge of amusement I feel confuses me. I take a step forward, then another, until I’m standing between his legs.

How will he taste? If I bend my head and taste him?

He’s had his tongue inside of me, deeper than any man has ever gone before, but the thought of using my own mouth onhim, of sliding his dick between my lips, makes my abdomen tighten with a combination of desire and worry.

“You will obey me in all things,” he reminds me. “Whenever I want to use you, you will let me do so. Although it is so very sweet and arousing when you resist.”

I’m close enough to reach out and touch him if I want to. Something stops me from doing so, a small voice in the back of my head that says if I’m the one who makes the move, then it will mean something about me.

A story I tell myself where I am wrong for this.

Where I am sick, and there is something wrong with me for wanting it so badly.

A small measure of relief courses through me when Syros takes me by the waist again, with both hands. He lifts me high, balancing me over top of his cock. My legs widen automatically in anticipation before he spears inside of me with one thrust, impaling me on his hardness.

I’m ready for him, dripping, but the intrusion has me screaming.

“Yes,” he grinds out.

He shoves me down until he’s buried to the base inside of me; he’s so deep, it feels like he’s rearranging my insides. My pussy clamps down on him and I force my eyes open. Force myself to look up at him.

“Just like this.” Syros moves me. He lifts me up until only the first inch of his cock is inside and then slams me back down. Working my body like I am some kind of toy for his pleasure.

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