Page 29 of Riding A Cock-Horse
Now, I'm concerned that he actually might want to eat me, butnotin the sexy way.
“I taste terrible!” I squeak.
The man's nose bumps my clit.
“Nae, lass, anything that smells this good can't taste bad.”
Suddenly, I’m not convinced he's talking about eating me for dinner. A long drag of his abrasive tongue right over the center of me quickly rectifies any confusion my brain might have been having over his words. All thoughts flee from my head—but my body…it jumps right on board.
“I'm Nestor, and I'm claiming you as my mate.”
The guy barely raises his head to make this rather scandalous announcement.
“Erm… no thanks,” I decline as politely as possible.
Nestor finally eases back between my legs to prop himself up on his elbows to look down at me. We're both naked, and the whole situation is really shaping up to epic levels of awkwardness.
“Why not? Are you already mated?” he demands. He sniffs me before I can answer. “You don't smell mated.”
It makes me wonder what ‘being mated’ smells like—obviously, it doesn't smell like getting fucked because I have toreekof that.
I clear my throat.
“I'mkind ofmated.”
Nestor raises a brow at this.
“Kind of mated? I don't think there can be such a thing.”
“It's complicated,” I hedge.
Nestor snorts.
“It'snotcomplicated. Whoever your mate is, I will fight him and kill him. Then, I will claim you as my mate.”
Now, I look at the wacko like maybe I need to get away no matter how amazing his muscular body is.
“Hold up!” I command, throwing up a hand and forgetting my plan to escape. “Him?What if my mate’s a woman?”
The stranger’s brow furrows in confusion like he’s never contemplated this before.
“Well, I guess I’ll fight her to claim you as my mate?”
“Are you asking me or yourself?” I laugh.
Nestor scratches his head, too hung up on the problem of my mate potentially being another girl.
“Listen, don’t sweat it. I can't be your mate, anyway. I’m not… whatever you are… OH MY GOD!” I screech as realization slams into me. “You’re the Loch Ness Monster!”
Nestor scowls.
“We don't like being called that,” he asserts, making my eyes widen.
“There are more of you?!”
“Of course, there are more of us, lass! Well, nae very many, though,” he admits sadly. “Actually, only one more, and if we don't procreate soon, there will be no more. What luck that I found you on my banks—a creature different like myself. I can smell you, my mate, and you call to me in a way no one else ever has. It doesn’t matter that you’re not the same as me. We’re compatible.” The certainty in his words brings me back to what Dr. Fuckface said—maybe I do have some kind of special blood that allows me to be a breeder for any shifter.
Even the legendary Loch Ness Monster.
