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With only a wall at my back and nothing to hold onto, it’s sensation overload as I cry out my pleasure, moaning and whimpering as my orgasm rocks through me. Shaking in my monster’s arms, held so solidly in his grip, I don’t hold a moment of enjoyment back.
“That’s it, that’s it,” Colossus snarls, his body tensing and jerking against me as I scream out. “Give me all of you, Astra.”
He clamps down on my thighs as his hips speed up, pulling my pleasure out of me until he lets out his own grunting release, and we come together. His face should seem vicious, with his wicked fangs and inhumanly craved angles, but I’m so thoroughly entranced, I can’t imagine ever looking away.
Glynnes was right when she unintentionally called him my muse—I see beauty in every blunt edge and sharp point. The way his face softened when I told him I trusted him is a masterpiece I would hang on my wall just to see every day.
His hips work tirelessly, pumping their final thrusts until my cunt is flooded with his release. Colossus pulls his cock from me, his head dropping against my shoulder. My gaze follows his to between my thighs, where his cum drips out of me, pooling onto the stonework beneath us.
This is how I wanted him to see me: flushed and relaxed, my satisfied pussy marked with his pleasure.
“You weren’t bragging when you said you knew what I wanted.” I laugh weakly against his shoulder.
His eyes soften as he raises his head to look at me. He’s panting almost as hard as I am.
“I am yours, Astra,” he says softly. “I’ve waited decades to care for someone, the right someone.”
When Colossus had said he had waited so long for this, I thought he meant just sex, but I realize now, he meant everything. He’d been watching me, preparing his home for me; the pottery wheel and art supplies made that clear. He had waited decades to be seen and not just observed. I understood the feeling and felt lucky to be the human who saw him in all that he really was.
“And I’m yours, Colossus,” I answer.
Chapter6
COLOSSUS
Dawn light crests over the crumbling stone edge of the parapet, casting a soft yellow wash over Astra’s nude form. We lie amongst the pillows and blankets in the bell tower, my wings wrapped tightly around her. She practically glows in her relaxed state. Her eyes are half closed as she rests somewhere between sleep and awake. Her golden waves are wild and knotted, springing out in all directions, a temporary memento of what we’d done last night.
I’d tried to give her exactly what she craved, and, in turn, I’d received so much more. She gifted me her pleasure and her body, but it was her trust that felled me.
Pulling my wings from her body, my claws move between Astra’s legs, a damp washcloth in my hand. While the tower isn’t stocked with everything a human might need, I’m glad to be prepared with a few necessities.
“Open for me,” I murmur, urging her thighs apart.
With a small groan, she spreads her legs for me, and I’m hit with the intoxicating scent of her arousal and my seed. My cock stirs with the rightness of it. I’m loath to remove the mark of what we’ve done, but it’s only a matter of time before we do it again.
That, I’m certain of.
I was terrified to leap to her window last night. My stone body was pulled to her, demanding I jump from my perch the moment she called out to me, but the thought of seeing the fear in her eyes again held me back—until I’d realized I could either take a chance and trust Astra’s words, or be destined to a life just as empty and frozen as the still gargoyles around the city.
Gently, I run the damp cloth over her pussy, careful because I know she struggled to take my cock at first and she’ll be sore. I bite back a grin as her tiny whimpers of discomfort turn into louder moans. In her half-awake state, her hips begin to move.
“Not yet.” I finish cleaning her up and hold out a bottle of water. “Drink this, little human.”
Astra laughs but takes the bottle and drinks deeply from it.
I frown as she giggles.
Seeming to notice my change in expression, she rolls to face me in the pillows, propping herself up on her elbow. Her round lips twist in an effort to hold back her laughter.
“You like to call me ‘little human,’” she finally says, “but I’m six-two and carry fifty-pound bags of clay on the regular. There is nothinglittleabout me.”
My frown deepens, and I feel the harsh lines between my brows.
“Little things are precious, and you are precious to me, so you are little,” I answer firmly.
My logic is sound.
“Do you not like when I call you my ‘little human’?” I ask.
