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“You could’ve just asked me, you know?” I said, reaching down to rap on his hard forehead. “I already figured this out.”
He tilted his head from side to side, looked down to where he was still so-fucking-hard, and then looked back up at me.
“It’s bigger than it looks. And it stretches. I swear. Uh—” I tried to use the non-horny parts of my mind to come up with something to prove it to him. And then I lit on the perfect thing, of course. “Shove your tongue in there,” I commanded him firmly. “I mean, uh—taste me? There?”
His gaze flickered between mine and my pussy, which was, thanks to the position I was now in and the lantern, on full display in front of him.
I nodded, so strongly it made the web shake. “Please,” I said, for encouragement. Because if something didn’t fuck me soon I was going to become a proverbial blue ball and die.
His jaws opened up, and his tongue unfurled in frontof me.
“Oh yeah,” I whispered, as the tip of it came for me.
It narrowed down to a finger’s width, and he was using that now, to rock between my folds, tasting and watching my reactions.
“Oh God,” I said, and grabbed hold of the line he’d left between my nipples. “Yeah, Nia’n’an—put it in me.”
He gave a long lascivious lick up, leaving a trail of sticky saliva between his tongue and my pussy, and then he did as he was told, entering me at last.
He didn’t just shove it in all at once, like I wanted him to—no, the asshole was going fucking exploring. He spun his tongue inside of me slowly, pressing against each inch of flesh in turn, like he was testing it.
“Oh, fuck me,” I whispered, an expletive, a demand, everything I wanted all at once. I tugged on the line between my nipples again and he saw that and reached up, moving my hand away. He wanted to be in charge of this ride now, and I supposed I ought to let him as much as I could bear, even if waiting much longer killed me.
“I like heat,” I explained. “I like friction. And I like firmness—oh—yeah—there,” I said, as his tongue curled inside me just like fingers. “Oh—Nia’n’an—fuck—do that again.”
He did, and it made me hiss.
“Faster?” I pleaded. “And a little harder?”
Fuck getting his double Ds in me, a girl fuckin’ needed to comenow.
“Oh,” I said, drawing my hips away from him, making him chase me. “Oh, fuck, Nia’n’an—that feels so good.”
He made a pleased sound, and then tugged my nipple-string, which made me hiss.
“Oh—yeah—fuck—” I said, my jaw dropping as pleasure built. I usually wouldn’t have wanted to come for him so quickly, but I knew from my many times touching myself in his rucksacks that I’d be ready to go again in thirty seconds. “Fuck—fuck, Nia’n’an—fuck—you’re gonna—” I tried to squeeze my thighs together but couldn’t. “Oh-oh-oh—Nia’n’an—ohhhhhhhhhhh.” I cried out and writhed, making the whole web below us bounce. “Oh—” I gasped, looking down the line of my body at him beneath heavy eyelids. And then I realized, what with his curiosity about me earlier—he might never have seen a woman do that before. “This is me coming for you,” I said, as I gave another involuntary shiver, staring into his shining black eyes. “You made me do that. By being inside of me. You make me feel good.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them—but the second I had, I realized no truer words were ever spoken.
Nia’n’an did make me feel good. And safe, and happy, and like singing—which was something I thought I’d never do again.
“Trust me,” I told him, when I could breathe next. “I’ve got two holes down there. I promise you’ll fit me. I won’t let you hurt me—and you never would.”
He pulled his tongue out of me, and back into his mouth, then rose up high enough to make a gesture with his hands, that clearly meant: Show me how.
Twenty-Five
NIA’N’AN
It was sogood to make her feel good—I wanted to do it again and again.
I could not believe how delicious my mate tasted. The perfect combination of sweet and savory, it was like she was made just for me. And now that I knew that was where her scent came from—and how easily I could get it from her—I was tempted to never make her pants to wear again. I would follow her through the caverns, denying myself all fluids, except for the wetness I could lap between her thighs.
And then when she came? When I felt the inner workings of her body tug and release against me, as if she was trying to pull me in?
I was as trapped as if she had covered me in her own sticky webbing.
I never wanted to leave her side—and now she wanted to show me how to mount her?
