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“You have me,” I say.
And it’s true—he’s had me since the moment we first locked eyes on Logos.
I kiss him again, fisting my hands in his tunic and pulling him backward toward the nest. He’s obsessed with my hair—with tangling his long fingers in my curls, yanking hard on them as proof that I’m his. His teeth bite down on my lip as my feet find the edge of the nest, and I find myself falling backward and yanking Malix down with me.
The impact knocks the breath out of me, but I don’t stop. There’s blood on my lip, the flavor of copper and sea salt mingling on my tongue as Malix nestles his hips between my thighs. He kisses me like he’s been dying to do this for years, for a lifetime—and I take everything he gives me, splaying myself out beneath him. The fabric between us is so thin that I can feel the shape of his cock against my core, begging for entry.
“Where do I touch you to make you scream?” he mumbles, his lips and teeth trailing over my jaw, down to my neck. His hands probe under my top, finding my breast,squeezing. “I’ve never…”
“There!” I say when he finds my nipple. “Right there…undress me,please.”
His hips roll against me, the ridge on top of his cock dragging deliciously over my clit. He practically tears the shirt off of me, his dexterous fingers yanking the ties at the nape of my neck open and baring my chest to him. He might be inexperienced, but he’s far from shy—his mouth latches onto my breast so hard that it makes me yelp.
And he doesn’t stop.
He never fucking stops, he’s relentless.
Sucking, pinching, pulling, thrusting. He laps at my breast with feverish need, his mouth like a brand on bare skin. I clutch at his head as he kisses lower, exploring every inch of me and experimenting with what makes me cry out the loudest.
He finds the waist of my pants, his crystalline eyes meeting mine.
“Keep going,” I gasp.
He unties the laces with that same aggressive touch, yanking them open. Then his mouth is on me again—on my hipbone, into the crease of my pelvis, his tongue thrusting out to lick up my thigh. I spread my legs wide for him and let him look, my hips snapping up when he slides his palms up toward my core.
His tapered scales are hot to the touch, his skin even warmer. We’re both burning up.
Malix’s tongue flits out, drags up my seam. I buck when he finds my clit, when his fingers find that same spot and swirl lower to push into my entrance…
For a man who doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s really fucking good at this.
Thrusting, sucking, licking, tasting. This is experimentation at its finest, Malix adapting to my needs based on the way I gasp and moan for him. He lays into me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, and I open myself up like a feast. Sparks build in my clit, a wave of pleasure washing over me, and then I break.
He doesn’t relent as I come against his mouth, thrusting my hips toward him and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. His inky eyes peer up at me, watching me, and I feel his drone reverberate through me like a vibrator as another orgasm grips me.
“Fuck…” I groan. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
His fingers slide inside me again, hooking upward to find my g-spot. It’s almost unbearable. I need more pressure, more intensity. I needhim, damn it, not his fingers and his tongue, even if they feel fucking amazing.
“Take your clothes off,” I mumble. “I need…I need…”
He doesn’t need any other direction; he’s just as eager to be inside me as I am for him to fuck me. Malix gets to his knees and strips off his tunic, and I follow him up to yank at the ties on his pants as he did with me. His hips fall from his narrow hips and his cock springs free, the same grey-blue as his skin with a turquoise ridge on top.
He’s fucking gorgeous, shining silver scales tapering away around his groin, smooth muscle covering every inch of his sleek body.
I take hold of his cock and he practically falls backward, leaning against the edge of the nest as his brow creases.
I pump him once, then twice, crawling closer. “Is this good?” I ask.
“Good is not…fuck,” he curses in English. It almost sounds funny coming across his lips, but it occurs to me that the Lyra don’t have curse words. “Good is not the word I would use to describe this sensation.”
“Are you insulting me?” I tease. “I can stop.”
His hand shoots forward and grabs me once again by the hair, dragging me up his body until I’m flush against his chest. His scales are like warm stones, like sunbathing on a summer day. I don’t want your hand, Frankie,” he growls. His fingers are at my entrance again, teasing around it. “I wantthis.”
I line myself up with his cock, soaking him in my arousal. I’m so wet, my inner walls contracting painfully. I need him, too.
There’s no time for games.
