I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
He knows exactly what she fucking needs.
Her breathy little moans and barely there noises tell him she is enjoying every bit of this. Every delicious touch. She didn’t want gentle any more than he wanted to give it. The thought brings a growl low in his throat as he presses harder against her, until they may as well be one.
Her lips seek his skin, hungry and a little hesitant. So fucking perfect. He loves that little thrill of uncertainty in her. Loves that she is burning for him even though she has no fucking clue what she wants. Gods, he can just taste it already. That thrill of uncertainty, the fear and the want tangled together. He would not be kind or gentle. And she sure as shit didn’t want that, or she wouldn’t be here taunting him, basically begging him to fuck her.
And he would, so hard.
“I do,” he growls, his caresses turning nips and scraping teeth. His blood rushes hotly through his veins, demanding and insistent. And the moment she leans into him, instinct takes over.
He shifts his body, wings half-splayed in aroused aggression, his muscles hot and languid. His eyes are burning dark pits as he uses his teeth on her, pulling her roughly to him, positioning her just so as he nips his way down her spine. He presses against the rounded slope of her haunch, using his lithe, long legs to pull himself up. Using those limbs to shift her into position until he is able to push himself roughly inside her with a low groan.
His hard features are ravenous as he grips her withers with his teeth to pull her ever closer, to drive himself deeper. He stills then, dark eyes bright with hungry intent. “Beg for me,” he rasps. “Beg me to fuck you.”
She could beg in truth, with her mouth and not just her body.
