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While our coven didn't practice romantic love, we knew of it because we did—during rough times—trade love spells to the human women in town. So we all learned the ways in which it could impact the body, the mind, the soul.
There was a string, an invisible string, that attached soul mates.
The only problem with that scenario was that Lycus, as a demon, had no soul.
So maybe it was in my imagination, this string.
But I felt it.
And it was sweet and reassuring and something I found myself wanting to protect at all costs. Even if our future was uncertain. Even if there were no guarantees that this connection could last.
I guess, in the end, it didn't matter if it did last. All that mattered was that I was given the opportunity to experience it, to delve deeply into it, to take it for all it was worth.
And I was ready to take it, to take him, to move forward with him.
My hands framed his face as I went up on my tiptoes to seal my lips to his, soft and sweet, a thank you for his thoughtfulness, his consideration of my feelings, for wanting to make this something memorable for me.
Ly's hands slid down my back, sinking into my behind, pulling me tightly against him. His hardness pressed into my belly, making the need bloom through my system, something warm and liquid, something I hoped I would never get sick of, never become immune to, this way he could so easily affect me.
He released me to slip his fingers into the waistband of my skirt, pushing it off my hips, letting it drop down onto the forest floor, all but forgotten as his fingertips moved over my skin, creating heat where the cool autumnal air skittered across me.
I never did take to the human custom of underwear, so his palms cupped my bare ass, squeezing, slipping down, sliding between my thighs as his tongue moved inside my mouth to claim mine, getting harder, hungrier, more demanding. More... him.
I appreciated him trying to alter his nature for my comfort, but I liked him for who he was. My body responded to his nature with reckless abandon.
His finger traced up my cleft, finding that perfect point of pleasure, moving over it with slow, deliberate circles as his lips crushed, bruised.
"Lycus," I moaned, that deep ache begging for fulfillment.
More.
I needed more.
I needed everything.
Sensing my desperation, likely feeling it himself, his hands moved, his lips ripping from mine so he could pull up my shirt and remove it, toss it to the side with my skirt.
My nipples hardened at the cool air, drawing his attention, his hands moving there, squeezing, grazing, rolling the tightened buds between his thumb and forefinger.
My hungry hands grabbed at his shirt, making him raise it up, allowing me to remove it, tossing it to the side. My fingertips traced over his heated skin, seeing the muscles tense under the inspection. As my fingers teased over the lowest part of his stomach, a hiss escaped him.
I undid his button and zipper, drawing his pants down over his hips, finding his cock already thick and straining, making my walls tighten in anticipation.
My gaze lifted to his as I slowly lowered myself down to the ground, taking him into my mouth.
His hands went to my head, holding on as I worked him the way I knew he liked best—fast, deep, unrelenting, messy. The longer I sucked him, the more I could feel his talons digging into my scalp. The more desperate he got for release, the more the Change would come upon him. The talons. The forked tongue. The more pointed teeth that had once bitten hard enough into my inner thigh to leave bloody imprints for two days. The horns would protrude ever so slightly in the moments right before he came, but I had yet to see him lose control completely, have those dark wings he'd mentioned emerge.
His fingers grabbed my hair, yanking roughly back until his cock slid from my mouth with a pop. His thumb moved across my swollen lower lip, his gaze heated, but unreadable for a long moment before he lowered down to his knees as well, pressing me back against the soft blankets.
Ly planted his hands on the blanket, his lips moving down my neck, over my breasts, licking, then sucking my nipple into his mouth until I arched up into him, a moan escaping me.
Releasing me, he started a trail downward, his tongue tracing down the center of my belly, the crease of my thigh, then inward, licking up my cleft, moving over my clit with expert precision, driving me up hard and fast, pushing me over the edge before I could even tell I was teetering there.
The orgasm surged through me, but he gave me no time to come back down, his tongue moving away from my clit for a moment, but still licking, teasing, as his fingers moved between us, surged inside. Soft and slow at first, but building in intensity, his fingers spreading with each thrust, preparing me, widening me. A third finger slipped inside, a small pinch accompanying the invasion, but quickly forgotten as the new, fuller sensation created an intensity that felt almost overwhelming.
