He nods as his tail unwraps from around me. Then he steps back, and when I turn, I see there are claw marks in the hood of my car.
I bite back a laugh when I see the damage he left behind. I’m not bothered by it, of course. My car is a piece of shit, and even if it wasn’t…well, I like the reminder that I made him that wild for me.
He sees them, though, and makes a small trill in the back of his throat, but I stop him from spiraling.
“It’s fine. It’s just a car. It doesn’t matter.”
His eyes stick to the spot he scratched, the paint peeled back, but I open the passenger door and gently push him inside. He goes with a sigh, moving the seat back and curling his knees into his chest. And when his tail is safely tucked around him, I shut the door and slip in behind the steering wheel.
The cab grows warmer as he stares at me, and my heart rate picks up. My cock is still hard from earlier, from his teeth on my neck, and the possessive way he held me.
My hand sneaks off the steering wheel, and I reach out for him. His fingers curl around mine, and I realize he’s trembling, though I don’t think it’s from fear.
“This is called holding hands. Do you like it?”
He nods. “Yes.”
I squeeze him, and he squeezes back.
“Hooooh hannnnnds.”
“Yeah,” I grin and bring his hand up to my lips, kissing his long fingers as I turn onto a street that will lead us back to my place.
Ourplace.
“Kissss,” he says, and I nod, doing it again. His claws poke out and retract in that cute way they do when he starts to malfunction. I can’t help but lean into it, loving the way he responds to me.
My tongue peeks out and runs up the length of his finger, and he makes a soft growl in the back of his throat. Lust warms me, a rush from my core spreading into my limbs, and I lift his finger to my mouth, pulling it in and dragging it out.
The noise he makes nearly does me in. It’s a soft, needy trill in the back of his throat, and as I let him go with a soft pop, he swallows so thickly, I can hear it catch in the back of his throat.
He lifts my hand and stares at it. “Dante,” he whispers, then presses the tip of my finger to his lips before shooting me a questioning look. He’s learning by doing—by watching—by copying.
I give him a nod, so he brings my finger to his mouth again and slides it in. Testing me.
Tastingme.
It makes my cock throb so hard I want to pull over and get myself off right here with my fingers in his mouth. Instead, I clench the steering wheel with one hand, determined not tomake him stop, and I manage the rest of the drive without crashing into anything.
The second I pull into my parking spot, I pull my hand away, then lean over the console and bring his face toward mine. My lips land on his, and I suck on his tongue, unable to keep myself restrained. I want to sit on him. I want that ribbed cock up my ass.
I want to make him come again.
I want him to taste all the parts of me. To suck my dick. To eat my ass. To lick every inch of exposed skin so he knows the flavor of me and nothing else.
“Take me upstairs,” I breathe, my voice ragged and full of need.
He blinks at me, his eyes shining in wonder and want, and then he moves. The car door is nearly pulled off the hinges as he throws it open, and metal grinds again as he leaps across the hood and yanks mine almost off.
I can’t help but laugh. If he takes this car apart, I have no idea how I’ll explain this to my insurance, but I don’t care. I’m so fucking ready to strip down and let him have me in any way he wants. I’ve never been this desperate for someone before.
Not ever. Not even when I was a horny teenager trying to fulfil a need I didn’t totally understand.
This is different. It’s wild. Animalistic. Damn near uncontrolled, and it only gets worse when his hands are on me.
He reaches down and plucks me from my seat, carrying me to my apartment, and nearly kicks the door down. I waste no time in dragging my lips up his neck as he gets us both inside, feeling his soft growl grow louder. By the time the door is closed behind us, and he’s set me down, he’s almost feral, his chest heaving, his claws out.
I feel like prey, but I don’t run.
