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To claim. To own. To please. To fuck.
He didn’t even know what it meant. He’d never taken a female, any female. Never wanted to merge his body, heart and soul with another. Never burned with a need so fierce, so insistent, he hurt with it.
Everywhere.
Even the roots of his mane and tail throbbed in pain.
He stared unblinkingly into her face, not wanting to miss a single reaction or emotion. Until her lips parted over his, and he could no longer keep his vigil or go cross-eyed from the attempt.
It felt different somehow, when she “kissed” him, than when he pressed his mouth to hers a moment ago. It might have something to do with her small, wet tongue darting between the seam of his lips, making him groan from deep within his chest.
“You taste as good as you smell, baby,” she murmured against his mouth, daintily lapping his sensitive flesh with her tongue.
Why did she insist on calling him “baby”?
He was no babe. He was a full-grown male. A centaur stallion.
Primed for rutting.
But it was more than physical urges, he knew. His human heart knew it too.
“Mountain tea…mmm, delicious,” she purred, the sound vibrating in the tender cavern of his mouth as she licked inside, undulating that silky little muscle, rubbing it against his own.
Involuntarily, he closed his arms around her and leaned all the way back, wanting her body as close as possible, wanting to feel her slight weight on top of him, her naked skin against his.
He didn’t even realize that he’d transformed until she straddled him. Wrapped her legs around his human hips, as if it was the most natural thing to do. And ground her wet, silken core against the root of his desire, her loosened tunic pooling around her hips.
The sound he made against her mouth was somewhere between a feral growl and a guttural groan. He couldn’t help but buck his hips against her the same time she thrust her tongue into his mouth, delving deep.
They moaned in unison at the indescribable feeling.
Her tongue in his mouth. Her woman’s heat weeping upon his maleness. The unbearable pressure in his loins. The swollen, hard length of his cock, his balls full to bursting…
He bucked again and squeezed her tighter, the jarring movement knocking their teeth together, bruising and slicing his lip.
Instead of pulling back, she thrust her hands into his hair and tugged him closer, devouring his mouth as if she’d been starving, and he was her feast to savor. She lapped up the blood welling from his cut lip and hissed and trembled with a seething need.
He knew what she needed, because he felt it too. He was raging inside with it. He wanted to explode with it.
She rocked her hips against his.
Once.
Twice.
Faster and faster. Rubbing that hot wet center against his stalk.
He couldn’t bear it any more.
He had to…
He needed…
“Come for me, beautiful,” she rasped into his mouth.
“Drench me in your cream.”
And Andros let go.
Released all the tension and pain in a muted roar.
Painting his woman with his hot seed.
Marking her his forever.
