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I ride through it with her, doubting my own release could possibly feel as good as simply watching Cally enjoy hers.
She leans more weight against the wall for a moment, panting in between meaningless monosyllables, then crashes next to me on the bed.
I examine her face, almost desperate to discover if she’ll still be able to gaze at me with affection as she did before, or if something changed between us now that I’ve exposed some of my predator DNA.
The moment seems so serious, fraught with meaning, until she laughs. It’s not a little chuckle, or girlish giggle, but a laugh so deep she throws her head back with glee.
Then her expression softens as our gazes connect. “I may be an author, Sylas, but I have no words. Well, these are words, but I can’t adequately describe how wonderful that was.”
Usually after I come—and I don’t think I’ve ever come with that much force—I want to roll over and fall fast asleep. Perhaps women are different from men because instead of looking sleepy, she seems invigorated.
“Tactical error.” She sits on her knees and is tugging at the button on my shorts. “Should have taken your pants off before putting the ropes on. Oh well,” she shrugs, “I’ve thought of a workaround.”
She unzips me, then allows our gazes to collide as she asks, “Any warnings? Need to give me a heads-up before the big unveiling?”
“From what I’ve seen of the soldiers I’ve stood next to at the urinal, I’d say big is the only operative difference.”
I’m observing her closely, assuming she’ll be fearful. Instead, she gives me a blatant smirk kneels between my spread thighs, unzips me, then tugs my pants down. Although my shorts catch on the ropes connected to my left ankle, she helps me pull my right leg out before she winks at me with a grin, then allows her gaze to slide over my body.
When she sees my cock, she releases a sharp intake of breath. It’s standing tall, pulsing, and dripping pre-cum. There’s a concerned swallow as her eyes narrow.
“Just, umm, strategizing.” Her gaze finally meets mine and she nods. “I think I’ve got it figured out.”
She licks the flat of her hand, then wraps it around my girth to stroke. I moan and grip the sheets at my side as she lowers her head and kisses my tip with tender lips before licking the seed that has pearled there.
How many times have I imagined a female’s lips on me? Nothing could have prepared me for the powerful whirl of pleasure whipping through my body at a hundred miles an hour.
After a hum of pleasure, her tongue runs along the underside of my shaft, seeking more of the taste as she licks off drops of pre-cum. Shivers tide through me in waves as she rhythmically bobs up and down.
She stops long enough to breathe, “Sylas. You taste so good,” then resumes her pleasurable torture.
All I can do is lay back and moan as her warm mouth moves up and down my length. My hips reflexively thrust against her and I cringe, praying I don’t get too carried away with the exquisite bliss and accidentally hurt her.
She’s teasing me now, swirling her tongue around my crown and flicking it against the head in a way that leaves me weak but desperate for more.
I want to move, to thrust, to break my bonds and throw her onto her back and pound into her. Thank goodness she used the rope. I bugle, long and low and desperate. The clamor ends with a few short whistles as my legs scrabble against the sheets, my free hoof so forceful it rends the fabric.
Cally uses suction, her cheeks dimpling in and out with each bob of her head. My antlers rub against the wall behind me as I thrash. It’s one of the few responses I can show with half my body bound so effectively.
Cally’s gaze finds mine, communicating wordlessly as she sucks, drawing me so close to the edge I feel myself starting to unravel.
“I’m going to come,” I warn, doubting she likes my taste enough to want to be on the receiving end of my release.
She pulls back for a moment and fills the void with praises. “You’re doing so well. Tell me, do you want to come now or do you want more pleasure?”
At first, her question strikes me as crazy. I’ve wanted release since ten seconds after my last one. Between her and my rut, I have no self-control.
Somehow, though, instead of demanding—or begging—to come, my voice thick with passion, I urge, “More.”
“Perfect.” She sucks me down as far as she can manage before the word is fully out of her mouth.
I’m so long and thick it would be impossible for her to take all of me. She uses both hands near my base to work in rhythm with her bobbing head until I lose myself completely. I hear my own moans and pleas as though they’re coming from someone else.
Unable to hold back any longer, I explode. With one final groan of surrender, I come hard against the back of her throat, calling out her name into the quiet room as if this moment will last forever.
My muscles tense and spasm as my orgasm floods through me. I’m in control enough to slide my fingers through her hair, telling her in the only way I can how much affection I have for her, how connected I feel.
She rides me through my release and the aftermath, then laps me from base to tip over and over as though she can’t get enough of me. Finally, she crawls up to lie next to me, her eyes shining with happiness and a touch of mischief.
