Page 36 of Mated to the Monster God
Like he seesme.
And I see him.
Not just the scaled warrior. Not just the alien intelligence. But the man who chose me. The one who listened, who learned, who waited.
The one who burns just as hot.
He shifts, massive and controlled, pressing me down into the grass. I can feel the hardness of his cock against my thigh, thick and hot even through the fabric. I reach between us, fingers tracing the line of his scales, feeling the heat, the impossible size of him.
“Esme,” he breathes, and it’s a warning and a prayer all at once.
“I want this,” I say. “I want you.”
His control shatters.
Hands gripping my hips, he eases his cock between my thighs, sliding slow and deliberate, not entering—just letting me feel him. The anticipation makes me cry out softly, arching into him. Every nerve is alight.
“Please,” I gasp.
He doesn’t ask again. With care that makes my eyes sting, he pushes inside me—inch by agonizing inch. Stretching me, filling me. I’ve never felt so full, so completely possessed. His breath catches as he sinks into me, low and rough and reverent.
“You’re mine,” he growls against my throat. “And I’m yours.”
I claw at his back, gasping his name, moaning into his kiss as he begins to move—slow thrusts that build into a rhythm that steals thought. My pussy clenches around him, and he groans, burying his face in my neck.
“Gods, you feel like home,” I pant.
“You are,” he grits, voice thick with emotion. “My home. My fire.”
The world vanishes. There is only this. Only us.
...
We catch our breath in a steady manner, his arm draped over my waist, his hand splayed against my belly as if anchoring me to the earth. Our breaths slow, syncing again.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He tightens his hold. “Forever, Esme.”
And I believe him.
CHAPTER 10
SAGAX
The memory burns through me—her breath breaking against my lips, the warmth of her body pressed into mine. I’ve never felt so... anchored. I slip from sleep like a phantom, senses alive to every shift in the jungle air.
Dawn hovers, gentle firelight seeping through the canopy. I hear Esme rustle beside me, breath soft and slow, trusting. My arms still cradle her as if afraid to let go.
My senses idly note the rough weave of the moss beneath me, the faint tang of damp earth in her hair, her heartbeat pulsing against my chest in soft, hopeful staccato.
I don’t move. I don’t break the silence. Because there’s something holy in this stillness—her vulnerability shared with me is sacred and raw.
“I feel... alive,” she murmurs, voice half-lost to dreams.
I reply without thinking: “You give me life.”
She shifts, eyelashes fluttering. When she opens her eyes, they’re soft and searching. I lean forward, forehead against hers. Tiny beads of perspiration coat her brow; her lips part and a strand of hair brushes across them.
