Page 83 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

Not just any woman, Eleanor.

A low, desperate growl built in his chest. He nuzzled against the soft skin in front of him, letting his lips brush across the back of her neck. Her breath hitched and warmth exploded across his chest at that sound—the effect he had on her.

It left him ravenous.

“Bastian,” she gasped, shimmying her hips against his cock.

“Fuck,” he breathed, meeting her movements with his own, grinding against her as he teased her neck with his teeth. His hand slipped beneath the blankets, finding its way beneath her pajama top. He palmed her breast then hesitated, waiting for her reaction. She pushed her chest forward into his hand so he continued, still grinding against her.

A low moan rose from her throat.

She sounded so desperate for him. A primal switch flipped in his brain and he lost control of his glamor. It melted away and the goblin side of him emerged in full force. He nipped along the skin of her neck, then opened his mouth and dragged his tongue over her, all the way to her hairline, an act of claiming, covering her in his scent. A cry fell from her mouth. He did it again, licking at her like a depraved animal.

The scent of her arousal—spicy with that amplified hint of coffee he went wild for—exploded around him. He groaned, his cock throbbing. With one arm wrapped around her shoulders, he made use of the other, slipping it down her stomach, to the waistband of her pajama pants. He hesitated, waiting.

She could very well deny him—especially after what had happened last time.

“Yes,” she breathed, backing into him harder. “Yes, please,” she begged. He lost it. His claws had grown back from the other night, so he put his hand to his mouth, biting down and ripping away the first two. Then he slipped his hand down between her thighs, right to her slick pussy.

“Fucking hell. Baby girl, you’re so⁠—”

“I know—I know. Please, Bastian. I need you.”

“I know, sweetheart. I got you.” And he did. He wanted to—have her, that was, and give her everything she needed. Everything she deserved. Specifically, he wanted to make her scream his name in the throes of passion. Over and over.

He pressed his palm against her clit, working in circles, careful not to scratch her with his remaining claws. She was so delicate, he wouldn’t dare hurt her like that. She mewed in response, her hips rocking more chaotically. He sank a finger into her, and then a second. The sensation of her wet warmth made him imagine all sorts of wicked things. Particularly, exactly what that wet warmth would feel like tightening around his cock.

His mouth went for her ear. He latched on and pulled. She jerked and her muscles tightened. His name fell from her lips, garbled and breathless as she came, gripping his fingers, spasming around them. A whimper followed and her scent shifted, satisfaction mixing with the lingering spice of her arousal. It was fucking intoxicating.

Her hips stilled.

But this wasn’t—he wasn’t—it wasn’t enough. Not even close. He needed more.

Teddy yowled, dislodged, as the blankets were ripped away. Bastian fumbled at Eleanore’s waistband, dragging her pajamas and panties off in one swift movement. She gasped at the sight of his true form, her pupils dilating with want. She'd seen him like this before, but never quite like this—never wild with need. Never hovering over her with such raw hunger.

He could see all of her now, sleep tussled hair, flushed skin. Flushed for him. Her chest rose and fell in rapid bursts. The after-effects of her orgasm left her glowing. An orgasm he’d given her.

His goblin purred with satisfaction. He could give her so, so much more. Worship her. Covet her. Keep her close. Never let her go⁠—

Pushing his possessive thoughts aside, he parted her thighs, eyes locked on her pussy, the beautiful sight of it glistening and bared for him. His restraint snapped and he dove between her legs. The taste of her flooded his mouth. He groaned, lapping at her. She would be especially sensitive right now.

“Oh, fuck,” she cried. “Fuck, Bastian. I… Please. Please let me touch you. Please…” He stilled. “Please, I’ll regret it forever if you don’t let me.”

An invisible fist wrapped around his heart, squeezing, clearing away some of the goblin haze. He didn’t move, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat. Giving himself a moment to process the raw want in her voice, he pressed his face against her, but didn't speak.

“Please,” she said again, this time softer.

Mine. His brain cried. Mine.

How could he deny her? How could he keep her from what she truly desired? She was his, and with that came certain…obligations, including that of her happiness. Ensuring she got everything she wanted.

With a frustrated growl, he pushed himself away from her pussy, scrambling from the bed. He removed his lounge pants before thinking better of it, letting them fall to the floor. A small, feminine gasp had him watching her, watching her reaction while she took him in. Her gaze lingered on the metal piercing at the base of his shaft, and her pupils dilated further. This was different from the other night in so many ways. Here, he was more exposed, caught in the heat of his arousal and desperation, unable to hide what he wanted—no, needed. His cock bobbed, almost beating out an accompanying rhythm to his heart.

She came up on her elbows, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Her eyes were fixed on his length, slightly widened and unblinking. “I… Can I taste you?” She asked. At last, she brought her gaze to his.

A shiver raced down his back, radiating straight to his extremities. The sound of her question, soft and tentative, unbound him. “Only if you’re okay with me fucking your mouth the moment your lips wrap around me.”

She nodded, the motion abrupt. The effect he had on this little female… Fuck. He felt powerful—more powerful than his magic made him. A profound sense of responsibility settled over his shoulders. She was his—no matter how much he tried to deny it. The way his chest—his whole heart—reached for her, desperate to latch on, to claim her, to own and keep her, to hoard her away like the precious jewel that she was, pink hair and all.