Page 26 of Pleasured By the Panther
The only way to ease her discomfort is to cleanse her, Thryxis had reminded him, all five eyes glowing with calm certainty. You must lick and suck the secretions from her nipples… and from her sex. Only then will the fire ease.
Korrath’s claws flexed involuntarily. The thought of putting his mouth on her…of tasting her sweetness…of soothing her ache with his tongue—he wanted it with every dark, hungry part of himself. His shaft ached at the very idea.
But what would she say?
She was shy still—uncertain—clinging to old human ideas of modesty and shame. Would she think him a brute if he told her the truth? Would she recoil if he admitted that to ease her heat, he must put his mouth to her tender peaks… and between her thighs?
He wanted her trust more than he wanted his next breath. And yet, if he waited too long, her discomfort would only grow worse.
Korrath’s purr rumbled low in his chest, half frustration/half longing.
Soon, he told himself grimly. He would have to find the courage to tell her soon.
For her sake. And, if he was honest, for his own.
17
MIRANDA
By the time they returned to the Light Side of the Mother Ship, Miranda could hardly think straight. Her nipples were swollen and tender, her breasts heavy and aching. Worse, there was a throbbing heat between her legs that seemed to pulse between her thighs with every step. She clenched her legs together as subtly as she could, hoping Korrath couldn’t tell.
God, I just need to come. Just once. That would fix it, wouldn’t it?
But the thought of saying that aloud—of admitting how desperately she wanted a release—made her cheeks feel hot with shame.
“Korrath,” she asked instead, trying to distract herself, “where are we going now?”
“To my home,” he said simply. His voice was steady and calm, as though nothing unusual was happening at all. “It is time we settled for the night. I will prepare Last Meal for you, and then…” He glanced down at her, his emerald eyes gleaming faintly. “We can consider sleeping arrangements.”
Her stomach flipped. Sleeping arrangements? The very idea sent a nervous flutter racing through her, half dread/half anticipation.
Somehow I doubt you’re going to get much sleep, a sardonic little voice whispered inside her head. Miranda did her best to push it away.
She followed the big Monstrum down a winding path of moss until they reached a one-story structure tucked away among tall, flowering trees. At first, she thought it was a cottage he had built here. Then she realized—no, it wasn’t built at all. It was grown.
The walls were dense mats of flowering vines woven together, blossoms glowing faintly in the dimming light. A wide arch served as the doorway, draped with pale blossoms instead of a door. Inside, the air smelled faintly of earth and green, growing things.
“Come in,” Korrath murmured, sweeping the curtain of blossoms aside. “You are welcome in my home, lovely one.”
Miranda stepped in and looked around.
Everything inside seemed alive. The chairs and couch weren’t made of wood or fabric, but formed from tightly packed vines. When she sat on the couch, the surface gave springily beneath her, but still supported her weight as firmly as any cushion. Even the table seemed to rise from the moss floor like a living stump, polished smooth by some natural process.
Her gaze caught on the walls, where blossoms of different colors had clustered together in intricate patterns. At first she thought they were random, until she realized—the glowing blooms had arranged themselves into pictures. They were living collages.
One image in particular made her pause. Two panther-like humanoid figures gazed out from the wall, their golden eyes bright and intelligent, their features regal. They looked so much like Korrath, she was sure they must be related.
“Your parents?” she asked softly, nodding at the flower picture.
He gave a short nod, already moving toward the food prep area where a counter and basin of water seemed to have grown naturally from the vines.
“Yes—the Mother Ship remembers them. She keeps their likeness here for me.”
Miranda touched the living picture with trembling fingers, marveling at the way the blossoms pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat. She swallowed hard and turned away, suddenly feeling like an intruder in this space that was so deeply his.
Korrath busied himself at the counter, his broad shoulders shifting as he prepared something fragrant from the cupboards grown into the walls.
“Um, is there anything I can do?” Miranda asked. “Can I help?”
