Page 57 of Reptile Dysfunction
“Thad,” she breathes, her fingers threading carefully through my snakes, who lean into her touch. “God, that feels incredible.”
My snakes create patterns of desire in the air above us, some dipping low enough to brush against her skin in feather-light caresses that make her shiver. Sterling, bolder than the rest, slides sinuously down her throat to trace the delicate line of her collarbone with his flickering tongue.
Moving lower, I map the subtle valleys and curves of her abdomen with lips and tongue, pausing to dip into her navel in a way that makes her squirm. Her hands grip my shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons that will fade by morning but feel like claims of ownership at the moment.
When I reach the edge of her panties, I glance up to find her watching me, blue eyes dark with desire. “These need to go,” I murmur, hooking my fingers beneath the lace.
She lifts her hips without hesitation, allowing me to slide the fabric down her legs and toss it aside. The scent of her arousal hits me like a physical force, making my mouth water and my cock strain painfully against cotton.
“You’re overdressed,” she observes, voice husky with want.
“Easily remedied.” Standing, I remove my boxers in one fluid motion, freeing my erection. Her eyes widen slightly, as they always do—a reaction that sends a primitive surge of satisfaction through me.
“Come here,” she beckons, reaching for me.
Instead, I kneel at the foot of the bed, spreading her thighs with gentle pressure. “Not yet,” I tell her, lowering my head after Idrag her by the heels so she’s close enough to devour. “There’s something I need to taste first.”
The first broad stroke of my tongue through her folds draws a broken moan from her throat. She’s already slick with desire, dripping, her taste a heady combination of salt and sweetness that I’ve become addicted to. My snakes sway above me in a hypnotic dance as I explore her with deliberate attention—circling her entrance, dipping inside, then moving up to focus on the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes her thighs tremble.
Her palms grip my shoulders, squeezing and releasing as I work her toward the edge. The small sounds she makes—gasps and whimpers and half-formed versions of my name—drive me to redouble my efforts. When I slide two fingers inside her, curling them against that spot that makes her see stars, her back arches off the bed.
“Thad, please,” she manages, her muscles clenching around my fingers. “I need you inside me.”
Rising, I position myself between her spread thighs, the head of my cock brushing against her entrance. The temptation to thrust home in one powerful stroke is nearly overwhelming, but I hold back, savoring the anticipation that vibrates between us.
“Say it,” I growl, my voice dropping to that commanding tone that makes her gasp with excitement. “Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”
Her eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide with desire. “You,” she says simply. “All of you.”
The words hit me with the force of a physical blow. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, I press inside her. The exquisite sensation of her body yielding to mine, tight heat enveloping me inch by incredible inch, draws a rough-edged groan from deep in my chest. Every serpent shivers in shared, sinuous satisfaction.
When I’m fully seated within her, we both pause, breathing heavily. The sensation of her tight, wet heat gripping my cock threatens to undo me immediately. She’s so goddamn perfect—hot velvet wrapped around steel, her inner walls fluttering as she adjusts to my considerable size.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” I groan, fighting the urge to pound into her immediately. “So tight. So wet. Like your pussy was made just for my cock.”
“Move,” she pleads, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Please, Thad. I need you to fuck me.”
The connection feels monumental—this joining of bodies that somehow transcends the merely physical.
I catch her gaze and deliberately let my eyes shift to that deep amber, pupils narrowing to vertical slits as the ancient compulsion power flows through me, making her shiver with both desire and the weight of otherworldly magic.
“How does this feel?” I ask as I begin to move within her.
“Like what I’ve searched for my whole life,” she gasps, the honest words pulled from her by magic and sensation. “Like I was made for you. Like nothing else will ever be enough.”
“And this?” I adjust my angle, hitting that spot that makes her arch beneath me.
“Perfect,” she cries out, unable to lie under the gentle compulsion. “You’re perfect. This is perfect. I never want it to end.”
Her legs wrap around my waist, ankles locking at the small of my back, drawing me even deeper.
“Move,” she whispers, her palms restless as they roam down my back to my ass and back to my shoulders. “Please.”
I begin with slow, measured thrusts, watching her face for every flicker of reaction. Her lips part on silent gasps, her eyes half-lidded but still fixed on mine. With each slick withdrawal and pounding return, the tension builds between us, a coiling spring of pleasure that demands release.
Gradually, I increase the pace, driven by her encouraging moans and the way her hips rise to meet each thrust. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by our ragged breathing.
“You feel so good,” I tell her, voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. “So perfect around me.”
