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Chapter Eleven
“A strong man doesn’t have to be dominant toward a woman. He doesn’t match his strength against a woman weak with love for him. He matches it against the world.”
—Marilyn Monroe
Oh, he made her come, all right.
She lost count of how many times.
He was slow, thorough, curious,frustratinglycurious, confident, demanding and extremely generous.
Divina’s mind was totally blown. And her body…
After he’d turned her body into a boneless, quivering, steaming heap upon the straw-covered ground beneath them, he knelt with his knees braced on either side of her thighs and stroked himself to completion as she watched. He came all over her chest, belly and groin in thick, creamy splatters.
Then, as he promised, he gathered his seed with his fingers and fed it into her pussy, rubbed it into her skin. He fucked her with his fingers again as he did it, first two, then three long digits curling and thrusting inside her, pushing his cum deeper and deeper, making her clench and writhe against him, wanting more. Moaning mindlessly for his cock.
As he also promised, he refused her. But he licked her clit and tongued her ravenous core until she orgasmed yet again as a consolation prize.
“Now, you carry me within you,” he rumbled at last, when he pulled her into his body on their sides and tucked his still hard-as-rock erection between her thighs from behind.
“You wear my scent on your skin. My taste in your mouth. And when you ache here,” he cupped his hand over her mound and dipped his fingers into her wet heat, “you will know it is for me and no other.”
If she had the strength to come again, she would have then and there at his words.
Gods! This male!
Instead, Divina reached between her thighs to stroke the satiny, plump crown of his sex, clenching her fist around him until he growled and nipped her earlobe.
“Stop tormenting me, filly.”
“I want you inside,” she murmured, her words slurred by exhaustion and repletion.
“Not yet,” he said softly, as her eyes drifted shut and her breathing deepened in slumber.
“I am already yours. Be brave so that I can make you mine.”
Now, in the dawn of a new day, Divina watched in thoughtful silence as Andros and the centaur troop prepared for the journey into the city.
Tonight was the Rite.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Ere came to stand next to her while Chewie sat on his haunches on her other side.
“Just thinking,” she said absently.
Ere followed the direction of her unblinking gaze.
“About a certain big-ass centaur prince, I assume.”
“His ass is perfect for his body,” she retorted reflexively.
“He’s…perfect,” she added in a reverent whisper.
Helpless. Hopeless.
Terrified of her own feelings.
Just then, Andros looked her way and flicked his tail, as if to emphasize the magnificent stallion ass in question, before turning back to the troop.
