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Rook bows his head, his horns grazing my belly. He’s careful not to hurt me. He kisses my inner thigh before moving higher. His breath cools me where I’m the wettest.
When he licks me, my hips jerk uncontrollably from the long, slow glide. I cling to the throne and force myself not to move. He lavishes attention on me with his tongue. His claws press into my thighs with just the suggestion of pain.
“Delicious,” he says.
The vibration of his voice makes me squirm. He licks me harder until I’m locking my legs and lifting my hips off the throne. Tension aches inside me. He’s not devouring my lust, though this is a different kind of devouring.
He strokes, circles, and tastes me. When his tongue slides inside me, I jolt to the edge of the throne. He holds me by my thighs and keeps me from falling.
“Yes,” I gasp. “More of that.”
“Be more specific,” he says, using my own words against me.
I grab him by his horns. “Harder. Inside.”
“With my tongue?”
“Your tongue, your fingers, your cock, I don’t care.”
He starts with his tongue, dipping into me, before sliding a finger inside and crooking it as if he’s beckoning me. I’m trembling with unspent tension. He stretches me with a second finger, then a third, being gentle despite his blunt claws. I cling to his horns and rock against him shamelessly. I’m desperate for more friction. When he sucks on me, my whole body shudders at the raw pleasure.
Panting, I fling back my head. “I’m so close.”
He nips at me with his fangs as if punishing me or urging me on. Desire curls even higher before crashing down in a wave of ecstasy. Every muscle in my body clenches as I arch off the throne. My cry echoes under the high ceiling.
When I fall back down, Rook’s fingers slide out of me, and I’m left hollow. He touches the wet stone beneath me and gives me a throaty murmur of approval.
“Fuck me,” I beg. “Pin me to the throne with your cock.”
He unbuckles his belt and frees his erection. It’s glistening with a hint of his seed, and he spreads that with his thumb. It’s torture to watch him. I strip naked, playing with one of my nipples, and spread my legs in invitation.
He drags me to the edge of the throne. When I hook my arms behind his neck, he penetrates me in one stroke. I’m naked against the cool leather of his armor. This sinful contrast amplifies my arousal.
He fucks me as if he’s conquering me. Claiming me with every thrust.
“Come,” I demand. “Fill me until I’m overflowing.”
He doesn’t stop until he wrings more pleasure from me. Another climax hits me hard. I shudder against him, clenching around him.
I whisper into his ear, “I want it all.”
Then, only then, does he surrender. He groans as he pumps his seed into me.
Afterward, we both struggle to catch our breath. He slides out of me. The throne was wet before, but now it’s drenched. He buckles his belt again, hooks his arm under my legs, and picks me up as if I’m no trouble at all.
“You’re slightly redeemed,” I admit.
“Slightly?” He frowns. “I also brought you meat.”
“Did you?”
“Hunted a rabbit. Need to cook it over a fire.”
I rest my cheek against his chest while he walks down the length of the throne room. He’s bringing me gifts of food like a dragon courtship, but of course he’s not courting me. None of this means anything to him.
His rejection is still raw enough to hurt.
A question bubbles up inside me. “Why didn’t you turn demonic?”
