I moan helplessly, already teetering again. His tongue works me with brutal worship. My body convulses again, and I’m crying, shaking, and clutching at his shoulders. I try to catch my breath, but he keeps going. Lapping me up. Marking me with his mouth. His words and his tongue push me right over again. It borders on torture, but still, he doesn’t stop.
Not until he’s wrung every drop of pleasure from my body. Not until I’m trembling, incoherent, clutching at him. He’s the only thing anchoring me to this world.
And even then…his tongue lingers. Worshipping.
Because I’m his to do whatever he wants with. Forever. Nothing can break us now that we’ve found our way to each other.
We leavethe warehouse in a haze of exhaustion and want. His wings carry us to our apartment and I press into his chest as dawn cracks like an orange yolk over the gray ocean waters. Neither of us says much, but the silence between us isn’t heavy. Everything feels lighter.
As soon as we close the beat-up door of the apartment, we resume devouring each other. I have to force both of us to stop before all our clothes come off again.
“We have to clean you up,” I insist, referring to his wound. Blood has seeped through the gauze. My bandages came off sometime between the first and fifth orgasm, but my wounds had miraculously closed. Not that I’m surprised.
Feedings always helped heal little cuts or scrapes I’d gotten almost instantly.
Talon continues to attack my neck, hands roaming over my breasts, and over my arms before tangling his fingers in my hair. “Later.”
“No,” I say firmly. “Now, mister.”
I force him off me and toward the bathroom. He leans against the counter as I remove his dressings. As soon as I reveal the exposed meaty parts of him, all the organs in my body clench up, recoiling from the wet exposure of muscle.
“Aura?” he asks.
“Mmm,” I say, trying to remain standing though I sway a bit, my head suddenly light and fuzzy.
“You’re white as a sheet,” he says.
“I’m fine.” I struggle to fight down my gag reflex. It’s hard to breathe.
Talon gently eases me aside with a firm hand, and I let him, hating myself.
Standing with my back to him as he goes about cleaning his wound, I blink up at the water spot on the ceiling. “Ugh, I hate this.”
“Hate what?” he asks absentmindedly, as the faucet runs.
“That I can’t take care of you,” I cross my arms over my chest, hearing the petulance in my own voice. “You take care of me all the time, and I should be able to do it for you.”
“It’s my job, Aura,” he says. His words are tight as if he’s in pain.
“So?” I turn my head to the side, catching him disinfecting his ribs out of my periphery. The healing liquid drips into the sink with intermittent spatters. “You deserve to be taken care of too.”
He rips open a gauze packet. I insisted on bringing the comprehensive first aid kit from the warehouse.
There’s a low chuckle of amusement that equally pleases and annoys me. He’s never laughed much so I enjoy the sound, butI don’t appreciate being laughed at. “Baby, you’ve taken care of me just fine.”
The sensual lilt in his tone lets me know exactly how I’ve taken care of him. When I turn around, he finishes taping up the new bandage.
I drop to my knees in front of him, wasting zero time releasing him from his pants.
“Aura?” he asks, a new kind of strain in his voice that has nothing to do with pain.
“Shush,” I say, immediately setting to stroking his gorgeous, scaled dick which quickly hardens under my touch. “If this is the only way I can take care of you, I plan to make sure you are very well cared for.” With that, I take him in my mouth completely.
Talon groans and grips the counter behind him. “Oh fuck, Aura.”
I can’t help my lips curving up as I continue to suck at him until he’s quickly and fully hard. I reach down and cup his balls, giving them experimental squeezes until he makes a choking sound that I want to spend the rest of my life replicating.
Talon threads his fingers through my hair, not guiding me, not forcing, justholding on.His knuckles brush my scalp as I hollow my cheeks and take him deeper, tasting the salt of his skin, the faint, smoky undertone that’s uniquely him.
