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ESSENCE REALIZED THAT she couldn’t take off her shirt or her bra. She squirmed around on Decker’s bed, thinking about whether it was worth taking one arm out or getting them over her head and decided to just push everything up.
Decker was over her on all fours, caging her in, seemingly having a similar revelation about his shirt.
“Leave it,” she panted, running her fingers inside his shirt, over his stomach. It wasn’t exactly flat. He was a little soft in the middle, but he was so broad that it barely registered. Anyway, she liked it better. It made him cuddlier for one thing, and she also didn’t want to be with someone who was perfect when she was, well, imperfect. She liked to be with someone who made her feel on equal footing, attractiveness-wise.
He groaned, and their lips met.
She pulled back, her voice a whisper. “Just let go. I want… I want you to let go.”
He let out a breath, hovering over her. “I don’t… I’ve never… you’re tiny, Essence. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She just giggled. “No one would describe me as tiny.”
“Not this again,” he growled.
She pushed her shirt and bra up.
If he was going to say anything else, the words died in his throat at the sight of her breasts.
She smiled, arching her back, presenting herself to him.
He claimed her mouth again, a fierceness in his kiss that made her feel shivery all over, made the tips of her breasts tighten in the way that women were always claiming happened in romance novels, but which she had—until now—been pretty sure never actually happened. But when his mouth—hot and wet—found her nipples, they were already a little bit stiff and they stiffened further against his tongue, and she let out a little whimper because it felt good.
She was awash in sensations that spilled all through her, like a toppled over glass of hot cider, seeping into her core, making her tighten and tingle in anticipation.
She was about to be taken by a big, stone, hulking gargoyle man.
She let out a breath.
Wait? Was she fetishizing him?
He spread his wings, sitting up over her, and she didn’t care. He cupped one of her breasts and then the other. “You sure you want this?” His voice was like gravel.
“Please,” she whimpered, looking down at her pale skin, how she did appear tiny against his size and girth. She let out a noisy breath and then focused in on the bulge in his jeans. She reached out to cup that again.
“You keep doing that,” he panted, “and I really am going to lose it.”
“Yes,” she said, undoing his button, undoing his zipper. She wanted to see him again, see all of him, all of the thick, hard, gray length of him. His skin was rough everywhere, but his cock was smooth and enormous. She had it in her hand in minutes, and he was leaking out of his slit, and she rubbed that all over him while he gasped and she sighed.
He worked at the buttons on her pants.
She stroked his cock. It was hot and huge and pulsing in her grasp. She teased him behind his head, going loose and then tight, pulling moans out of his lips.
He tugged her pants off.
She had to let go of his cock for him to do that.
Now, her pussy bare, he put his hand on her, and he was too rough and too clumsy, and she pushed him off. “Get a condom,” she said.
“But—”
“We’ll do the thing where you’re gentle and I’m not bossy another time,” she gasped. “This time, you just… ravage me, okay?”
“Ravage you?” The bottom went out of his voice.
“Scare me,” she said.
His expression tightened, and she wished she hadn’t said it, suddenly, knew it was the wrong thing to say, knew that maybe she had crossed some kind of line, maybe she had veered into a fetish, and maybe he’d be—
