A small entrance, hidden beneath warmth and wetness, softer than the surrounding flesh and clenched as though guarding something within. His shadows stilled.
So he had been right.
His songbird did possess a place meant to be entered.
The discovery sent a pulse of dark satisfaction through him, and without fully understanding why his hunger sharpened so suddenly, Erevos pressed the tip of his tongue against that tight opening and nudged forward.
He expected her to cry out again in pleasure.
Expected her hips to lift the way they had when he circled the sensitive swell above.
Instead, the moment the thick tip of his tongue breached her entrance and slid even a fraction inside, Lyssena let out a loud, broken whimper, her thighs snapping shut around his head with startling force. Erevos froze instantly.
His shadows recoiled violently from the table’s surface, flaring outward in alarm as he withdrew at once, lifting his head, his gaze flashing upward to her face.
“Lyssena,” he said, “did I wound you?”
Her breathing was ragged, her fingers clenched tight against the wood, her chest rising and falling in uneven pulls as she forced her thighs to loosen around him, though her entire body trembled.
“It—” she tried, her voice thin, breath catching. “It hurt.”
Hurt . . . He had meant to bring her pleasure.
A low, unstable growl rolled through his chest, not at her, but at himself, at his own ignorance, his own failure to understand the fragility of her human body.
“I will not continue,” he said at once, beginning to rise, shadows thickening as though preparing to pull her away from the table entirely, to shield her from further harm. “I apologize.”
But Lyssena reached for him, gently placing her hand on his.
“It is normal,” she breathed, her cheeks flushed, her voice shy yet steadying. “The first time . . . it hurts. My mother said so.”
“You are certain?” he asked.
Lyssena swallowed, her thighs parting again, though more hesitantly this time.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Just . . . go slowly.”
Erevos inclined his head, though inside he felt anything but slow.
He lowered himself again, his shadows settling against the table’s legs to anchor him there.
Erevos traced downward from the swelling, flattening his tongue and dragging it through the slick warmth between her folds, feeling how readily her body parted for him now, how the wet heat gathered more generously than before, coating the broad muscle of his tongue until it gleamed.
He studied the change in Lyssena’s breathing as he moved. He tasted her blood while gripping her gown that was made of him. When he reached her entrance once more, he did not press immediately. He lingered.
He let the tip of his tongue circle the rim, mapping its shape, feeling how it tightened in response to each touch.
So small, so guarded, sohis.
Erevos moved slowly. He nudged forward again, gently, easing just the tip of his tongue inside, allowing her body to stretch around him rather than forcing his way through.
The inside of her was hotter than the outside, softer, more yielding, yet circled him in the way her hand did on his cock before.
He pushed a fraction deeper, and he felt her part around him.
Erevos felt the slick walls tremble and tighten before easing again, as though learning him even as he learned her.
A broken sound slipped from Lyssena’s throat. It was similar to those she made when she felt good.
