Page 93 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Well fucked and warm.”

I chuckle and slip my hand down to squeeze her ass cheek. She giggles but remains languid on my chest, humming in pleasure as my grope turns into a caress.

“Ready for round two, or should I say three, already?”

“I am always ready for you, little bird. As many times as you want.”

Lottie lifts her head and rests her chin on my chest, her ocean eyes glittering in the moonlight as she watches me.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

She fiddles with my chest hair and gives me a playful scowl. “You know what I mean. Being a shifter. What’s it like?”

I figured that’s what she meant. She’s so intrigued by non-humans and not at all afraid or freaked out. Wanting to knowmore, learn more. That’s a good thing. If she were to react poorly to us, it would make all of this much more difficult.

“To me, it’s normal. It’s what I’ve always known. Having to hide it and deal with humans is time-consuming, and sometimes I wish it could go back to the way it was hundreds of years ago when we lived out in the open among each other.”

Lottie is listening intently, tilting her head to the side. Her lips are kiss-swollen, and her hair is tangled, but she’s never looked more beautiful to me.

“The shifting takes time to get used to. Bones breaking and rearranging and all that. It starts off painful but eventually lessens.”

“And being a wolf? And your beast? Your true form. Does it feel different?”

“Sometimes. But it’s part of me. Being in those forms can be freeing. There’s less stress and worry about menial things like bills and work. Everything breaks down to a base level. Need, want, desire. I still have cognitive thinking and understand everything, but all I care about are things like running, hunting, eating . . . fucking.”

Lottie laughs when I stroke down her backside and press my hips up, letting her feel my growing erection.

“I love your laugh. The sound of your voice is hypnotizing. Do you know that?” I ask, brushing the stray lock of golden hair back behind her ear that has fallen in her face.

She shrugs one shoulder as if shrugging off the compliment. “I’ve been told my voice is many things by many people. Not sure how much I believe anymore. It seemed like they were only saying it to butter me and get me to sing more songs to make more records and sales.”

I stop her with a brush of my thumb across her lips, silencing her insecurities.

“I don’t care what other people tell you. I’m not them. I don’t care how many records you sell or how much money you have. Your voice is enchanting and beautiful, and if you were willing, I would listen to you sing, hum, or even grunt all day long.”

The downturn to her lips eases and smooths out. Turning into a shy grin.

“Would you sing for me, my sweet Nightingale? Now that I’m in human form. Sing for me and not a stray wolf you didn’t think could understand you?”

I try to coax the unease from her brow by smoothing my thumb over it and brushing along her cheekbone. After a moment's pause, she smiles and nods.

“Yeah. I’ll sing for you.”

Sitting up, the quilt falls away, revealing her tan skin and ample breasts tipped with hard, dusky pink nipples that divert my attention momentarily. Lottie stands from the bed, and I get a full view of her from every angle. My gaze lingers over every inch of her as she tip-toes over to her guitar perched on a stand in the corner. She grabs it and returns to the bed, sliding under the warmth of the covers next to me.

The blanket falls from around my waist, revealing my hardening cock as I prop myself up on an elbow and turn onto my side to watch her. She settles against the headboard and pillows, propping her guitar on her crossed legs.

“What would you like to hear?”

“Anything you’re willing to sing.”

Clearing her throat, Lottie adjusts the strings, confidently places her hand around the neck, and rests her arm on the base of the guitar, readying her fingers to play.

The majority of her nude body is shielded by the bulk of the guitar, but her nipples bob into view periodically as she moves and shifts to play. Seeing her bare before me in more waysthan one has everything inside me sparking to life and paying attention.

The first few chords are unplanned and loose in their construction until she finds her stride, and a song emerges from her fingertips and then her lips.

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