Page 23 of Wounded Mate
A breath shudders out of me as I reach for them. “Yes.” They’re smooth as polished stone beneath my hands. When I grip them, he moans. Are they sensitive? I test the theory by giving them a gentle squeeze and tugging him forward.
His moan deepens, and he takes my cock into his mouth and swallows. It’s all I can do not to thrust. The sensation is so all-consuming, so deliciously pleasurable I forget myself already. I don’t guide him. I barely manage to hang on for the ride.
His throat vibrates. My hips stutter. Is he laughing? I think he’s laughing. It brings a smile to my face and a new resolve to do as he asked.
I take a firm grip on the second set of horns and drag him closer. He opens easily, humming around my length as I slide in to the hilt. My muscles tense and ripple. Everything is warm and wet and perfect.
The sight of him—lips stretched wide, eyes fluttered closed, his lashes two dark crescents on his cheeks—is too much.
I thrust, and he moves in sync with me. His fingers ghost over my sac. He cups my balls, massaging with the gentlest of touches. His tail curls around my thigh and squeezes.
My hips snap of their own accord, once, twice, and I lose it, flying high. I release deep into his throat, my head tossed back, my fists closed over his horns, keeping him in place while I soar up into the sky.
Panting, I gulp in lungfuls of rose-scented air. Pleasure courses through me as I tremble out each crashing wave of my climax, spilling into his mouth like a geyser.
Valius has gone still in my lap as if melted across my legs, holding my balls in his hands and my cock between his lips like they’re a prize he’s won. And he’s welcome to them. I belong to him, body and soul.
He moans, and overly sensitive now, I shiver, but I don’t push him off. Maybe this is feeding? This blissed-out expression on his face, this sweetly limp and boneless version of him, reveling in the aftermath of my pleasure.
I’m eager to return the favor, to make him come apart for me as I’ve done for him. To give him the ecstasy he’s so generously granted me. But I won’t rush whatever is happening. He’s whimpering, needy little sounds, trailing his fingers over the delicate skin of my most sensitive places.
I pet his hair, damp from his wash but still soft as flower petals beneath my hands.
After a time, he comes back to himself. He gently releases me and gazes up with lust-drunk eyes. “I’ve never… That was… You’re…” He chuckles and flops his head back down onto my lap. “Delicious.”
The wolf in me preens, delighted to have pleased him in any manner but particularly inthismanner.
“I’m so full.” Valius perks up a bit, nuzzling his face into my thigh. “It’s never felt this good before. Like I’ve dined on a fine seven-course meal plus my favorite dessert. You’re amazing,” he coos. “I feel like a rag doll, in the best way, all loose and happy.”
I stroke one of his pretty horns with one hand and his hair with the other. “I’d like to make you even more loose and happy. The bed, perhaps?”
He grins. “I don’t know if I can move. Your ardor is so strong and swirly. Like my head’s floating. Feels nice.”
“Ardor?”
“Mm-hmm. Your passion. The pleasure you feel during sex, the energy you create when you come. Best I’ve ever had.”
“Well, if that’s what it’s like to feed you, consider me your willing breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
He presses a kiss to my softening shaft. “I could suck you all day.”
I’m spent, yet listening to him talk, seeing him naked and pliant between my legs, I could almost go again.
Almost.
But it’s his turn. “Bed, Valius. I want to learn every part of you.”
“Oh, Bela, my Bela. I’m yours to discover.”
Chapter Twelve
Valius
My mind is buzzingas I float among the clouds, giddily gorged on Bela’s delicious pleasure. We’ve dried off and snuggled up together in my nest of a bed, face-to-face. He maps my every curve with his big, gentle hands. I love the feel of them on my skin.
Hot, damp, and eager for me.
I don’t care if I come or not. That’s how satiated I am. But if he wants me, I’d be stupid to turn him down.
