My hips roll, fucking his mouth properly. He takes me entirely. Every choke is accompanied by a whimper. My end comes faster than I’d like, but if it were possible, I’d feel this—feel him, all night.
I catch my breath. Christos takes his sweet time sliding off my cock. I fall back onto the bed, this last maneuver taking everything out of me.
“Oh god.”
He runs his hand up my body, exploring my thigh and hips before settling below my ribs. The mattress shifts. The tips of his horns come into view as he crawls onto the bed. His cock throbs against my thigh.
I reach for him, finding his shoulder—or is that a biceps. It doesn’t matter. “Lay next to me.”
He does, helping me onto my side and wrapping his arms around me. “Still giving orders after all that.”
“I know my worth.”
I bury my nose in the crook of his arm. His fur is so smooth. I should say something. Tell him this was nice instead of instructing him, but the longer we lay here the more distracted I am by his raging hard-on.
He’s firm against my ass. I’m not sure if that feeling on my lower back is my sweat or from his cockhead. “Does it hurt?”
“There’s pressure… it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He kisses the back of my neck. “Nothing I don’t enjoy.”
Pressure only feels good for so long. I unhinge my jaw, trying to decide if I have it in me to repay the favor. Now that I’m not in the throes of lust, Christos’ size is less enticing and more intimidating. “The handjob offer still stands.”
He makes a noise at the back of his throat like he’s considering. “We’d have to move to the bathroom. The shower is an easy clean up.”
Either because I’m tired or nervous, a single word slips out. “Ominous.”
Laughing to himself, he nuzzles into my neck. “You’ve never been with a Minotaur then?”
“No,” I admit. “I’ve been with Dragonfolk—”
“The guy from the game?”
“Marcus? No, actually, we were going to hook up once. But then he kicked my ass so bad in video games I was too angry for sex.”
“You’re a sore loser?”
“You’re not?”
I refuse to believe a guy who has committed so much of his life to a sport is okay with losing. Then again, Christos is such a sweetheart that if anyone has found inner peace with losing, it would be him.
He chuckles, but it’s more at his expense than mine. “Anyway, I promise I have a system for clean-up. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“What sort of dom would I be if I didn’t help with cleaning up?” I turn my head back to face him, take his muzzle between my thumb and pointer figure. “Unless you’re interested in switching things up,” I offer.
“I like our dynamic. Not really interested in topping. If that’s okay.”
“Why wouldn't it be?” I don’t like how blunt I sound in my own ear. I turn over so we can face each other. “Topping is my preference. Yours?”
“If a guy asks, I’ll do it. I don’t know if I’d say it’s my preference.” He rubs the back of his neck. “A lot of people…expectme to fuck them.”
“Right—shit, I’m sorry.” I’ve been there. Men putting expectations on me to be their fantasy without any consideration for what I want. I’ve always been confident enough to shut them down, but it always sours my mood for the rest of the night.
“It’s fine.” His nostrils flair. “Great pillow talk, huh?”
“What’s wrong with productive pillow talk?” I touch his bicep. “It was a genuine question, and you gave me a genuine answer. No expectations or disappointment. Promise.”
“Well…” He places his hand atop mine. “I’ve done it before. I’d be open to it. Later. Honest.”
I lift a brow. “Ruin my hole after I ruin yours?”
