Page 38 of Mated to the Monster God
Her gaze whistles into mine, feral and trusting. “I want you. Always.”
I push my cock into her slowly, reverently, burying it in the slick heat of her pussy. Her moan shivers through my bones. I feel every twitch of her body around me, the way she stretches and grips, the way her thighs tighten at my hips, holding me close.
She gasps, nails digging into my shoulders. “God—you feel... massive.”
“Too much?” I rasp, trying to hold back.
She shakes her head, biting her lip. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
I thrust deeper, groaning against her mouth, her heat drawing me in until I’m lost. Her pussy clenches around me, so tight, so wet, it’s like she’s made to fit me. Her hips rise to meet mine, demanding, guiding.
Our rhythm builds, slow and deep, then faster—fierce. She cries out, body rocking beneath me, her orgasm breaking like a wave against my hips.
“I’m—Esme—I’m so close,” I grunt, voice shredded.
“Then come,” she pants, her voice broken open. “Come with me.”
I surge once, twice more—and then I do, buried to the hilt, shuddering into her warmth, spilling everything I am into her. Our cries tangle together as the morning breaks.
Later, when the tremors fade, we lay in silence. Her body curled against mine, my tail draped protectively over her hip, her breath brushing my chest in gentle waves.
The sun rises. But for now, we are still. I gather her into my arms, chest to chest, fit so intuitively perfect it feels like destiny. Her breath is ragged, her heart slamming against me like a drum with no mercy.
“You are.” My voice breaks against her mouth.
She kisses me then—slow at first, searching, and then it ignites, fierce and fast. Lips meet hard, tongues split desire open, and the world fractures.
I cradle her in every sense—warmth, taste, scent, sound. The tremor in her hands, the slide of sweat into my hairline, the scent of wild mint from the brushlands drifting in—everything burns together. Even the claws digging into the earth remind me I am both monster and protector.
The paradox hums beneath my skin.
I kiss her with wonder—gentle as morning rain, fierce as wildfire at midnight. She responds with the same intensity, and we move as one organism, heat blooming like warped constellations where our bodies chart new galaxies.
When at last I still, I’m trembling. I hold her close, breathing in the sweep of her chest, the rhythm coming back to life beneath mine. Her hair, damp and fragrant, brushes against my lips.
“Sagax,” she murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion and moonlight.
I stroke her back, heartbeat slowing against hers. “I’m right here.”
We lie tangled in the grass. The night has bled to whisper, stars blinking in witness.
In that silence, I marvel at how seamlessly she fits against me. How natural the connection is. How terrifyingly right.
I listen to her pulse, holding her like gravity holds the world.
I do not move. I do not speak. But my mind hums with the simple truth:
I will never let her go.
The night air cools around us, rich with the tang of earth and star-dusted leaves. The heat of our bodies fades into the hum of the forest, and yet every nerve remains electric, attuned to the rhythm of Esme’s breathing against my chest. Her pulse drummings like distant thunder in my ears.
Her arm coils over my torso, skin against scales in a union that feels natural, unforced. I lie beneath her, cupping her head gently, letting the cascade of her dark hair tickle my fingers. I tune into her heartbeat—steady and malleable—and it becomes the only melody that matters in the stillness.
A soft breath escapes her. I shift to look upward, tracing constellations through the tree canopy. Stars flicker, indifferent and ancient, but beneath them we exist like two wild things in a secret born from instinct and longing.
“I was made from the blood of others,” I say, voice low enough to disturb only the crickets. “But I live for yours.”
She breathes in a way that catches on something tender inside me.
