AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’ll take care of this pretty little pussy anytime you want, sweetheart. Anytime she wants to be licked, I’ll be here to lick it and make you come. Eating this pussy is going to be my new favorite meal. Anytime she wants to be stuffed with my fat bull cock, I’ll be here to fuck you so good you won’t be able to remember your own name. I’m going to spoil you rotten, Violet. I’m going to spoil this cunt every way I can . . . all you need to do is tell me what you need.”
She’d wondered, once, if he would say filthy things to her in his stern, always-in-control voice, but she’d never imagine hearing it this way, in a dark croon at her temple. One of his thick fingers pressed into her heat and her legs shot out, kicking at nothing, and Violet understood why some of the minotaurs at the farm shook as if they’d just been struck by lightning when they came. She wasn’t sure what was short-circuiting her brain faster—the way he was rubbing her or the things he was saying, but when his finger withdrew, only to re-enter a breath later with a second, she knew she was finished. He fucked into her with a solid, steady pump of his wrist, stroking her inner walls and never letting up the pressure on her clit, and she was nearly embarrassed by how quickly she unspooled under his ministrations, her orgasm building in a tight coil of pressure. When she clenched around him, thighs quivering, he gave a low hum of approval, continuing his movement until her contractions slowed, the pleasurable pulsing of her peak fading away. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes withdraw his hand and suck his fingers clean, as calm and collected as he ever was, just as the server reappeared to refill the water glasses.
“We might need to make an appearance at the block party, after all, just to put the word out that you’re looking for something. Xenna and her brother know everyone in town, if there’s something open that might fit the scope of your degree, they’ll know it.”
His ability to finger fuck her in public and go right back to the conversation about her job prospects without missing a beat was astounding, and she nearly choked on her wine when the server asked if they were enjoying their meal a moment later.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” she mumbled against his arm, once the check had been taken and the table cleared. She’d realized he was too big to force up the stairs, but as long as went willingly on his own, she might be able to lock him inside.No sense leaving anything to chance.
His laughter was a rumble against her as he captured her hands in his, leaning down to reach her mouth. She wasn’t quite used to the sensation of kissing a mouth so different from her own, one that didn’t slot against hers like a puzzle piece, but his lips were unfailingly soft as they pressed to her, soft and insistent.
“Violet, did you really think you were going to come to dinner and tempt me with your bare cunt, let me have a taste of how needy and delicious she is, and then kiss me on the cheek out on the sidewalk and go your merry way?” He enunciated every letter, as sharp and forbidding as he’d been on that very first day, barking that he was on his lunch break. Her nipples tightened and he tsked at her with a shake of his head. “You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman, but I think it’s time to bring you home.”
* * *
She’d never fully appreciated how enormous he was.
In the wide-open milking room where he towered over her on the upper level, there was no accurate scope. When they walked through Cambric Creek or crowded into one of the always-busy little bars or restaurants there, they were surrounded by towering orcs and ogres, trolls and mothmen and small-statured elves and goblins, obliterating her sense of what was normal or not. Here in her apartment, though, he seemed larger than life and completely out of place.It’s alright, it’s fine. He’s going to find his place right here. Between your legs.
“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman,” he repeated, standing over where she sat on the edge of the bed, thighs parted.
“Is that the only thing that’s hard?” Violet gave herself a mental pat herself on the back for continuing their little game, leaning up and pressing her lips to the thick bulge at the front of his pants, slightly above eye-level from where she sat. The solid, steel-cored outline of his cock twitched, and she mewled in need. It had been weeks since she’d handled him at the farm, a veritablelifetimesince she’d felt his heft and stroked his girth and squeezed his meaty balls, and she felt like she might catch fire if she couldn’t take him in hand and run her tongue over his winking slit, feel him stretch her wide and fill her with his hot release.
“Is this what you want?” The bulge at the front of his tailored dress pants twitched again as her fingertips moved to trace over the shape of him, and her palm prickled, needing to feel his weight and thickness.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes, what?” Fingertips at her cheek, caressing her jaw.
“Yes, this is what I want.” His eyes fluttered shut as she outlined the shape of him, knowing the topography of his member like a map she’d studied for ages, finding one of the veins that snaked up his shaft with ease.
“My cock? Is that what you want, Violet? Do you enjoy stroking my cock at the farm?”
Her mouth ran dry and her legs opened a little wider, vainly seeking friction that wasn’t there. Enjoyment didn’t even begin to categorize how she felt about having the opportunity to touch him, to stroke him and bring him to release. The velvety pad of his index finger caught her chin, raising her face to his, and all she could do was nod dumbly.
“Words, please.” The note of command made her sit up a bit straighter.
“Y-yes,” she managed to whisper.
“Yes, what?” He was definitely a bastard, no question. She glared up and his smile stretched, clearly enjoying himself.
“Yes . . . I enjoy stroking your cock. Ilovestroking your cock.”
He hummed in approval, a low rumble of thunder against her. “What else do you enjoy?” He made no move to stop her when she dragged down his zipper, his hands assisting by unbuckling his belt.
She loved everything about his milking sessions: the way he grunted when he thrust against the breeding bench with that slow, solid pump of his hips, giving her a delicious hint of what it would be like to have him buried inside her. She loved the hot throb of his testicles when he came and the weight of his cock in her hands, the way his muscles tightened as he emptied because of her.
“The way you throb, and-and the sounds you make. I enjoy milking you dry.”
He’d robbed her of the pleasure of his heft as he held his shaft, directing it towards her mouth. The first bump of his cockhead against her lips made her moan, dragging over her lips, and she eagerly opened her mouth, sliding her tongue over him, her jaw popping when he pressed his head in. She wanted to slide her tongue into his sensitive foreskin, wanted to suck on his frenulum and make him groan in pleasure, had just tightened her lips around the flared edge of his big mushroom head, when he pulled away.
“Sweetheart, I’m going to give you this cock so good, you’ll never be able to remember anyone else’s. . . . but that’s not going to happen tonight.”
She cried out when he tucked himself away, realizing he had the fuckingaudacityto be serious, whimpering as he did up his fly and rebuckled his belt. The outline of his erection still sat heavily against the fine material of his pants, taunting her, and her fists balled in frustration. “I thought I was in charge? I thoughtIgot to call the shots, mister bossy.”
His laughter seemed too big for her tiny bedroom, rattling the light fixture and making her breath hitch. “You are sweetheart, and I’m never going to leave you unsatisfied. That’s a promise. But I’m not going to do anything that might hurt you, and you’re not ready to take my cock. You need to be prepped,” he glanced swiftly around the room, nose wrinkling, “and I can barely turn around in here. My hooves will tear up your sheets. You’re going to pack a little bag when you come home from work tomorrow and bring it with you on Friday, and spend the weekend at my house. I can’t promise you’ll be walking right on Monday, but we’re going to do things the right way and you won’t get hurt.”
She might perish before then, she thought miserably, although the cozy little tableau he’d painted bore a striking resemblance to her daydreams—beneath him in his bed, spending time together, screaming in pleasure, snuggling into his warmth. All that was missing was the coffee.
