Page 97 of The Monster's Daughter
“Yeah,” I whisper. “We did.”
But the quiet that follows isn’t complete. There’s something charged in the air, like static before a storm. I feel it in the way his hand tightens around mine. In the hitch of my breath when he leans closer.
His scaled nose brushes the shell of my ear. “Come with me.”
I follow him, heart in my throat, legs trembling as he guides me into the next room. The lights are low, flickering from old battery lamps, casting our shadows large on the walls. Kage stops near the edge of the bed, towering and quiet, watching me like I’m the only light he needs.
He reaches for me, hands sliding beneath my shirt, claws grazing my skin—not to threaten, never to harm, but to feel. He lifts it over my head slowly, reverently, letting his eyes devour every inch of pale skin exposed. “You always do that,” he rumbles.
“What?”I whisper, barely able to breathe.
“Look like a goddess and pretend you’re not.”
I snort, shaky. “You’re biased.”
“I’m possessive,” he growls. “And I know what’s mine.”
His mouth crashes into mine before I can retort. He kisses with heat, with hunger, his fangs grazing my lips without piercing. His tongue is rougher than a human’s, broader, and it fills my mouth with the taste of him—salt, smoke, wild earth.
He breaks away only to tug off his shirt, scales gleaming under the faint light. His black skin ripples with strength, patterned in silver along his chest, down his arms, across the corded planes of his abdomen. I trace one of the marks, breathless. “You’re beautiful.”
He snarls low. “Say that again.”
“You’re beautiful.”
His pupils dilate to slits, burning red. “Lie down.”
I obey.
The blankets crinkle beneath me as he crawls up the bed, body looming over mine, massive and solid and warm. His hand trails down my side, claws skimming my ribs, hips, thighs. When he reaches my panties, he tears them with one clean stroke of his claws. I gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he kisses me again.
“Let me taste,” he growls.
I nod, and he lowers his head.
His tongue is hot and wide, lapping slowly between my thighs, savoring every tremble of my pussy. He moans against me, the sound sending vibrations deep into my core. “You’re soaked,” he whispers. “Is this all for me?”
“Yes,” I pant, legs shaking.
He slides a clawed hand beneath my ass, tilting me closer to his mouth. His tongue flicks, circles, presses. My hands fist the sheets. “Kage,” I sob. “I’m going to?—”
He doesn’t stop.Doesn’t let up. When I come, it’s in a wave that shakes my entire body, arching me off the bed. He licks me through it, groaning as he tastes every drop.
Then he moves up, positions himself between my legs. His cock—thick, ridged, long—is already hard, the tip slick with need. “Ready?” he asks, voice ragged.
“Yes. Fuck me.”
He presses in, slow at first, stretching me inch by inch. My walls grip him, desperate, greedy. I moan, clawing at his back, his shoulders, anything I can reach. He doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated, hips flush to mine.
“You’re so tight,” he growls. “So perfect.”
He starts to move, hips grinding slow, then harder. His cock hits deep, brushing places that make my vision go white. We fuck like we’re anchoring the universe. Like this is the only thing keeping the stars in place.
Our bodies slap together, sweat slick, gasps and moans filling the dark. “Harder,” I beg.
He snarls, obeying, thrusting deep enough to shake the bed. My second orgasm builds fast, burning behind my ribs. I cry out as it breaks, convulsing around him.
He follows with a roar, cock pulsing as he spills inside me, warmth flooding my womb.
