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I didn’t know if I could bring myself to do that. Fever or not, I was not aroused, far too scared to even consider it.
Frozen in place.
Staring wild-eyed at his thick member, I was forced to admit I was powerless. That I needed his assistance before I started screaming. “Help me.”
Immediately, his soft purr lashed into hard, loud pulsations.
The breath left my lungs, and I found I could breathe again. Moments later, a small amount of sweetness filled the air.
While I watched, a bead of fluid formed on the tip of his pointed cock, gathering at a tiny slit. Pearlescent, it shined, growing until it began to drip down his shaft.
My mouth watered, and I understood. That fluid would taste exactly as he smelled.
Sweet, transcendent, delightful.
Miranda said I would enjoy sucking his cock, and now I knew why.
The addiction was for male fluids, respite waiting right there, slowly dripping its way down his length. Mesmerized by its journey, I cocked my head and absently sucked my lower lip into my mouth.
He said the words softly, with deep reverence, “I love you, Lorieyn.”
Between my legs, a soft flutter began. Pulling in another deep breath of lightly scented air, tension began to drain from my body, an unnatural looseness washing over my bones.
He knew, easing himself onto the bed to creep over me. Urging me toward the center, where I might be comfortably laid to await his mercy.
His chest warm on my pebbled breasts, weight on his elbows, he looked down at his prize, lips lightly lifted. There was no kiss, no touch of his hands, nothing that might distract me from the feeling of his cock exploring the flesh of my stomach and teasing lightly at the apex of my closed legs.
Nose tracing the line of my throat, he whispered, “Were this simply for your pleasure, I would spend hours adoring your body and showing you great care. But your heat needs tending. I promise you a future of worship, but for tonight, I suggest you spread your legs and let me in. Best get this over with.”
Breathing hard and fast, trembling, I parted my legs as best I could and felt his lower half settle in the cradle of my thighs.
Still no kiss.
He wanted me to be present,to recognizethat the only pain I felt was the aching fever of heat.
That prehensile cock knew exactly where to go—a sensitive slit that had grown slippery without my notice. Before it dug in, it ran itself between my seam, coating his accordion-like ridges in the slippery stuff my body leaked in invitation.
Breath hitching, my pelvis tilted, an involuntary response to such stimulation. Which angled my opening right in line for the pointed head to test.
He dipped in.
Watching his terrifying cockhead ever so slowly luxuriate in my cream, flare once within me, then draw out, I whimpered.
It was not a noise of pain.
It was one of need. My hips already chasing after that spear-like tip so it might delve deeper and ease the fire within.
Watching me, studying me, Cyderial pressed his invasion back to my opening, as if licking at me with his tip, before delving just a bit deeper than before.
I squeaked to feel a stretch at that first fat accordion-like segment forcing me open, to know he flared within to lock his monster inside.
Yet he changed the shape of himself again, retreating from my weeping slit, leaving me panting andstarved.
This dance of his, never once did it hurt. It felt like a rebirth, like that first taste of fog-laced air upon waking. Sizzling fire and soothing ice.
An intoxicant beyond anything a glass of wine might offer.
Two segments pushed through on his next penetration. Three. Four. Until I made a noise.
