Page 69

The thought barely finishes before he proves he knows exactly what crossed my mind, because satisfaction rolls through the bond so thick and dark that my toes curl. He doesn’t pull away to comment; he only hums around me again, and the vibration drags straight through my cock and into the base of my spine until my hips jerk against the weight of his forearm.

He holds me down easily, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make the point that he can keep me exactly where he wants me while his mouth takes me apart.

His tongue changes while he’s still wrapped around me, the movement going from human-warm and wet to something longer, stronger, more controlled than any tongue has a right to be.

My eyes fly open, and I look down just in time to see him ease off me with a slick drag. His lips are parted, blue eyes fixed on me as that tongue slips out again, longer now, dark pink and too smooth, tapering in a way that makes my brain short out completely.

“Oh my God,” I cry out.

Onyx’s eyes burn brighter.

You like when the beast helps, don’t you? he sends, and the words slide into me, rough and intimate, without shame or apology. You like knowing I can change for your pleasure. You like my mouth less human when it still worships you carefully.

My cock kicks against my stomach, and he watches it happen with an expression so hungry I almost try to close my legs. I don’t get far. His hands spread me open again, palms hot under my thighs, and he lowers his head before I can gather enough oxygen to pretend I’m not wrecked by the sight of him. His tongue drags over me from root to tip in one long, obscene stroke, and the sound that leaves me has no dignity left.

My back arches off the furs so hard my throat pulls tight around a broken cry. One of his hands slides up my stomach and presses flat over my ribs, keeping me there, keeping me grounded, while the other grips my thigh.

He doesn’t take me into his mouth right away. He uses the changed shape of his tongue like he means to learn every sensitive place until my body stops being mine and becomes a map only he can read.

He flicks the tip of his tongue over the head, gathers the slick there, circles twice, and then the length of it curls firmly around the shaft while his mouth closes over the top again.

I make a raw sound and grab at the furs with one hand while the other stays in his hair because I can’t let go of him. I need that. Need the proof that this is Onyx, my Onyx, under all the impossible pieces of him. Long hair tangled in my fingers, warm scalp beneath my palm, broad shoulders between my knees, and long tongue wrapped around my cock like a vine.

Good mate, he sends, the praise dark and rough as he works me. So hard for your beast. Let me taste all of it. Let me take what your body gives.

I shake my head because it is too much, but my body has no loyalty to the gesture. My hips try to lift again, chasing him, and his mouth opens wider around me while his tongue tightens in a slow, dragging pulse. Every muscle in my stomach locks. The mark at my shoulder throbs, heat flashing through it with each movement of his mouth, and Onyx feels that too.

His eyes cut up, and the hunger through the bond turns primal enough that my whole body clenches. I groan, and he digs his fingers into my thigh hard enough to tell me he likes the sound. He likes me desperate and undone. He likes every honest, needy thing I give him before my brain has time to dress it up as something safer.

“Oh, fuck… Oh, God—!”

Onyx pulls off from my cock, dragging his tongue slowly over my balls, and my knees try to close around his head. He doesn’t let them; he keeps me spread and open under him, nose brushing the crease of my thigh, hair sliding over my skin while he breathes me in like I’m something he’s starved for.

I feel his restraint fraying at the edges again, then that tongue slides lower.

I go still for half a second, breath caught, nerves lighting up because I’m sore and he knows it. The bond catches my little flare of caution immediately. He pauses with his mouth against my inner thigh, his breath hot, his hands steady. He doesn’t ask with words; he just lets the question rest inside me, clear and waiting.

I swallow hard, staring down at him. My voice barely works when I answer. “Be careful.”

Those blue eyes soften without losing any of that wild hunger. Always.

His fingers find the slick my body is already making—which is weird as fuck, but yay for natural lube—and his breath leaves him in a rough rush. He circles the rim with the tip of his tongue, soothing the tenderness with slick warmth until the tension in my thighs loosens by degrees. My head tips back, and I breathe through it, through the weirdness and the pleasure and the ache that doesn’t quite hurt because he won’t let it.

His tongue elongates further, slow enough that I feel the change as a steady slide of pressure rather than a sudden breach. My mouth falls open, but no sound comes out at first. The sensation is too strange, too good, too much in a way that short-circuits words completely.

He doesn’t thrust into me or force anything. He licks me open by patient degrees, using the length of his tongue to press just inside and then retreat, each pass slicker, warmer, more maddening than the last.

I start shaking, and Onyx groans against me, the vibration hitting everywhere at once.

Beautiful, he sends, voice thick through the bond, more beast than man now. Open for my tongue. Tender from my cock. Still needing me. Still giving yourself to me.

There’s something devastating about the way he says it. Dirty, yes. Filthy enough that heat crawls up my chest and face. But under it, there’s reverence and pride. A kind of possessive awe that makes me feel less ruined and more chosen, which is deeply unfair when I’m spread out under him before breakfast has even been properly dealt with.

His hand returns to my cock as his tongue works me open and I nearly come right then.

The touch is firm and slick, his fist sliding from base to tip while the altered length of his tongue presses deeper, careful around the soreness, finding pleasure without turning it into pain. My fingers pull hard in his hair, and his reaction slams through the bond, a pulse of dark satisfaction so intense I feel it in my teeth.

Give it to me, little mate. Spend while my tongue is inside you. Let me feel you come apart while you still ache from taking me.