Page 109 of Untamed

She rocks her body slowly, with our help keeping her balanced on us. Steady, no claws in her golden flesh. Another whimper and a tiny surge of our hips make her stop moving.

"Hurt?" we grate out, our eyes flying back to her.

"No," she breathes, eyes half-slitted on us. "More, Mactiir."

We obey our goddess. Lifting our hips, we rock her against us until her body gleams with sweat and her sweet essence spills onto our stomach. Obscene and beautiful, her body, up and down, on our ugly, too-large shaft.

"Mactiir," she purrs, "My male." We watch her golden eyes as her motions grow more frantic. Gold glazes in pleasure before she bucks wildly, head tossed back, crying her release to the trees.

We laugh. We did this to her, turned our ferocious little kitten into a satisfied pussy-cat.

Our turn. Lifting her, turning her, petting her sweat-soaked flanks. She is exquisite, so utterly mouthwatering. Her scent invades us, and we need to put our scent on her, in her. We enter her sweet treasure as a male must, an alpha-wolf for his female, his mate, his luna. Our Bliss, we take our prize, hearing her cries of pleasure wash over our skin, cling to us, sink into every pore. We surge deeper, plunging into her, wanting to smother her in us. We take her, too rough. Don't hurt.

We want to see her eyes on us. Gently, we pull away and turn her. Her cries of pleasure turn to demands.

"More, Mactiir! Now! Stop waiting!"

Growling, snarling, our sweat, and saliva drips onto her, sliding into her hair. We grab handfuls of that mane, bringing it to our nose. It smells of our female. Of her promise to be ours. Her eyes tell us, promise us, but suddenly, we want words.

"Pppromise, treasure. Ours."

"You said sex, Mactiir," she returns. "You promised, too!" She is panting, bucking her hips, her breasts swaying tantalizing, just out of reach of our mouth.

"Promise you. Ours. You promise,"we repeat. It's hard to speak, our tongue thick in our mouth, the words skittering just out of reach.

"I'm yours," she replies impatiently. "I'm yours just as you're my Mactiir."

We swiftly enter her again, rewarding our treasure now that we have her promise.

Gold blinds us a moment later, the release we have stored up just for our treasure emptying into her. We rumble as she goes wild under us, her snarls echoing in the trees. Our teeth sink into the Mark on her shoulder. Beautiful Bliss.

The faintest whiff of her blood makes us pull away in horror.

"Hurt?"

Gasping, she crawls into my lap, golden limbs trembling, skin shivering. Exhausted, she curls into our arms. "You didn't hurt me, Mactiir," she pants, eyes sliding closed.

Not believing her, we look between her legs. That is puretreasure, marred with a tiny smear of blood mixing with our mess. Clucking our tongue, we lick her clean while she smiles and giggles. "Stop, that tickles," she scolds. We ignore her. We like that sound. Later, we will see what else makes her laugh. We lick the bite, next, shuddering with the desire to sink our canines into that sweet spot again and again.

She is bleeding under her nails, too. Poor sweet treasure. She dug her tiny claws into the earth and ripped her golden skin. Growling, we lick the pads of her fingers clean. When she is all better, we sit back against the oak tree again, with our female cradled safely in our arms, and let the rain wash us clean.

"It's raining," she murmurs to me. We hum an agreement. If she becomes too cold, we will find better shelter. Later.

Closing our eyes, we hold our treasure as we both sleep.

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34 - More and More Insane

Willa

"Willa."

The world hovers in stillness. Roots wrap around my male and me, holding us tight in the goddess's embrace. The soft crackle of the fire far away sizzles from the rain at the edge of consciousness.

"Willa."

Consciousness; awareness, wakefulness, alertness.

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