Page 84 of Shadows of Stardust

Zan’s black gaze meets mine, all those stars swirling. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.” I swallow hard. “I just… is it… weird? Am I not what you… are you not attracted to…”

The noise of protest that breaks from the back of his throat is harsh, irate, disbelieving.

“You’re beautiful, Roslyn.”

My discomfort melts immediately, replaced by a rush of satisfaction.

“Forgive me, if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” I relax as he lowers himself back between my thighs, his lips tracing a path up, up, up, until his mouth hovers a few millimeters above my skin. “Just making sure all of this was… okay? That you were into it.”

“If you only knew,” he murmurs, low and sardonic.

I don’t have any time to contemplate what exactly I’m supposed to know before he swipes his tongue up the length of my pussy, groaning as he gets a taste of me. He does it again, and it’s my turn to groan as my hands scramble for purchase in his thick black hair.

“I’ve read about this, too,” he murmurs, breath breaking against my aching clit. “And how sensitive it is.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd,” I gasp, clutching at his horns to pull him closer.

“Nerd.” He tests the word on his tongue. “My translator picks that up as one with great knowledge and high intelligence. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Take it however you want,” I nearly wail. “Just please, please get your mouth on—”

My desperate plea breaks in a gasp as he obliges. Mouth fastened around the tight, aching bud of my clit, he draws on me.

Hard.

My back arches, my hands tighten on his horns, and his growls of approval blend with the sharp cry I couldn’t do anything to hold back even if I wanted to.

Kissing may not have been one of Zandrel’s natural gifts, but apparently he’s got a sixth sense for knowing exactly how to take me apart. He works me with lips and tongue and the gentlest rasp of his wicked-looking fangs. He brings his clawless fingers back to my entrance and eases them inside, crooking them forward and hitting a spot so sweet, I’m done for.

Slumping back against the counter, I surrender.

I surrender to Zan, to the magic of his mouth and his hands and the singular focus he uses to dismantle me. He puts it all to work pushing me closer, closer, then tossing me right over the edge as a soul-wracking orgasm crashes through me.

I’m still trembling with the last aftershocks of it when Zan stands, hooks his hands under my thighs, and scoops me off the counter. I cling to him as he carries me from the kitchen and into the sunken living room, settling on the lounger with me in his lap.

For a few long, breathless minutes we sit just like that. Silent, panting, slowly floating back into my body while Zan rubs slow strokes up and down my back.

In some distant corner of my mind, I wonder if this is… too much.

Cuddling like this. Being tender like this. Acting like any of this is… real.

But his touch feels too good, and my limbs are all too heavy and satisfied to move from where I’m sprawled on top of him. And, with each passing moment of clarity, I realize I might not want to be done. Not yet.

As long as we’re here, as long as we’re not stopping to talk about what exactly the fuck it is we’re doing right now, I want to have some fun, too.

I shift in his arms, moving until I’m straddling him with my hands resting on his shoulders.

Zan watches me with a dark, hooded gaze, big hands braced on either side of my hips.

“Alright?” I ask as I make myself comfortable.

Instead of answering right away, he leans in to brush his lips over mine. I taste myself on him.

And… fuck. Fuck, that’s good.

---