Page 33 of Feral King

Julian kisses the inside of my thigh—gently, tenderly—then stands and pulls off the Henley in one swift motion. His body is exactly what I’d expected, but still nothing I was prepared for. He’s broad and hard, and covered in ink. I let my eyes wander over the Bratva tattoos, designs that travel up his arms and across his chest.

Over his heart is a single star, the North Star. I want to ask about it. And I want to put my mouth on it.

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. The rest of his clothes hit the floor. I gasp when I see how big he is—thick and hard—a bead of cum at the end of his head that I want to lick off with my tongue.

The way he’s looking at me, naked on my bed with my hair wrecked and my thighs still shaking…

“You’re staring,” he says.

“I kinda can’t help it. And so are you.”

“You’re worth staring at,” he replies, not missing a beat.

“Come here,” I say. “Please.”

He climbs over me—one knee between my legs, then the other, his body blanketing mine completely. I feel secure, not bound.

His skin is hot against mine, his chest solid against my breasts. When he kisses me, I can taste myself on his lips. It’s sexy and filthy, and I love it.

“Condom,” he says. “Protection.”

I shake my head. “I’m on the Pill.” I can’t believe I’d gottenso wrapped up in the moment that I’d forgotten about something so important. “Don’t need one.”

I can’t wait any longer. I reach down and take him by the base. He moves with me, lining himself up, the tip of his length pressing in.

I close my eyes and prepare for the sensation of him inside of me.

But it doesn’t come.

“Look at me.”

I look into those gorgeous eyes staring down at me as he enters me slowly, inch by delicious inch. Julian stretches me with a cruel patience, his jaw tight as he goes deeper. He stops when I gasp—it’s a lot, he’s a lot. He waits, his forehead pressing against mine.

“Breathe,” he says.

I realize that I’d forgotten to do just that. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, letting it out slowly. He starts moving again, gently, until he’s buried to the hilt, his balls pressed snug against my ass.

When we both exhale at the same time, I’m in awe of the sheer intimacy of it. He stays still for what feels like a perfectly endless moment, letting me savor the sensation of his cock deep inside me.

He goes slow at first, pulling back and driving into me at a pace that allows me to get used to his size. The strokes are long, dragging thrusts that almost pull all the way out, the thick head pausing at my entrance before sinking back inside, inch by inch, until I’m gasping at the pressure.

Every thrust sends sparks shooting up my spine, and I feel him everywhere—in my belly and thighs, in my nipples that tighten into aching peaks with each glide.

I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into the hard muscle there.

“Julian,” I moan. “Just like that. Please. Just… just like that.”

He keeps the pace, and I begin settling into that perfect, trancelike state. My vision blurs around his sculpted muscles and the inked designs that cover them. I flex my nails down his back, feeling the shiver that rolls through him, the growl that vibrates against my throat as he leans in to kiss me there.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispers. “Pure heaven.”

I answer by wrapping my legs tighter around him. He drives harder and faster, his hips snapping with a devastating rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, broken only by my whimpers.

“I’m so close, Julian. So goddamn close.”

His big hand slides under my thigh, fingers splaying over the soft flesh there, lifting me and spreading me wider. The new angle is merciless. The thick head of his cock drags over that electric spot inside with every plunge, and I cry out, sharp and helpless, the pleasure too much to take.

I arch off the bed, teetering right on the edge, my inner walls gripping him tightly.