Page 94 of The Monster's Daughter
She rests her hands on mine. No words come. But the quiet between us says everything.
I press a kiss to the side of her neck, slow, lingering. She sighs softly, tilting her head to give me more room. My tongue flicks out, tasting her skin, the salt and sweetness, the memory of survival. She leans further back, arching slightly against me.
“Kage,” she whispers.
“I need to feel you,” I murmur, hands sliding down her sides, palms skimming over her hips.
She sets the cup down with a soft clink. Then turns, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Then take me. Right here.”
I growl low, the sound vibrating between us. My claws stay sheathed as I lift her onto the counter effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist. Her nightshirt rides up, revealing the creamy skin of her thighs.
“Fuck,” I breathe, kissing her again, deeper this time. Her mouth opens under mine, eager, needy, tasting like tea and desperation.
My hands slip beneath her shirt, fingers tracing her waist, her ribs, up to cup her breasts. Her nipples are already hard, and when I roll them between my fingers she gasps, arching into me.
“I’ve missed this,” she says breathlessly. “Missed us.”
“You are mine,” I growl against her mouth. “Always.”
I tug her shirt off. Her body glows in the moonlight, pale and perfect and marked by memory. I drop to my knees before her, pulling her panties aside and burying my face in her pussy.
She cries out, one hand flying to grip the edge of the counter, the other buried in my hair. I lap at her, tongue stroking her clit in tight, purposeful circles. She tastes like home, like every promise I’ve ever made and kept.
“Kage—oh god—don’t stop?—”
I don’t. I suck her clit between my lips and fuck her with my tongue, her juices slick on my face. Her thighs shake around my head as she comes, moaning loud into the kitchen, the stars watching.
I rise, licking her off my lips. Her chest heaves, eyes wide and glazed.
“I’m not done with you,” I murmur.
She nods frantically. “Please. I need you.”
I free my cock, thick and hard, dark scales gleaming with pre-cum. She stares, licking her lips.
“You ready for me?” I ask.
She wraps her legs tighter. “I’ve been ready for seven years.”
I thrust into her slowly, watching her mouth fall open as I fill her. She’s so tight, wet, perfect.
“Oh—fuck—you’re so big?—”
“You can take it,” I growl. “You were made for me.”
I set a rhythm, deep and slow, each thrust pressing her back against the cabinets. Her pussy clenches around me, every inch dragging against tight heat. Her fingers dig into my back, her nails raking across the silver patterns on my scales.
“I love you,” she gasps, tears mixing with sweat on her cheeks.
I slam into her harder, and she screams my name.
“Say it again.”
“I love you—Kage—fuck—I love you?—”
I lose control, fucking her with everything I am. My claws brace the counter behind her, keeping her pinned as I pound into her. She shatters again, pussy milking my cock, pulling me over the edge.
I come with a roar, hips jerking as I fill her, forehead pressed to hers.
