I like that idea. I like it a lot.
Mhal's thoughts are twining with mine. He feels how much I love his lips on my skin, how much desire his hungry mouth sends rippling through my body. With a groan, he picks me up and hauls me to our bed. My beautiful, perfect mate, he tells me, over and over again. My everything. My sweet, soft Jenny.
Soft? I tease, laughing at the thought. Nothing in the After is soft.
He lays me down upon the bed with such gentleness that it steals my breath away. The look in his intense golden eyes is full of need. But you are soft. Your thoughts are soft, because it is in your nature to want to help others. He strips the last of my clothing off of me, and then kisses my foot. This is soft.
I giggle, because my callused foot is not soft, not in the slightest.
You are soft right here, he says, and kisses the inside of my arch.
I whimper, hot need flaring through my body. I had no idea I liked that sort of thing, but his mouth there does all kinds of crazy things to my libido. Where else am I soft? I ask, fully aware that it's a shameless leading question.
Hot laughter rolls through my mind. Well, my drakoni says in a very lazy, sexy tone. You are soft here. And he leans in and kisses the inside of my knee. And you are very soft here. He continues to kiss forward, moving along the inside of my thigh. But you are softest right here, in your center.
And he pushes my thighs wide apart, lowering his head to lick my core.
It doesn't matter how many times Mhal goes down on me, I'm always hungry for more. I love the flare of pleasure that leaps through his mind when he tastes me, love how much he enjoys his tongue stroking through my folds, how much he loves to drill the tip of his tongue deep into my core and pleasure me with it. Feeling it through our connected thoughts adds an extra layer of enjoyment that I never suspected, and it makes me hotter than ever. I squirm against his mouth, and because he expects that, he pins me with one arm, holding me still so he can tongue me with abandon.
It makes me so incredibly aroused. I whimper, bucking my hips and trying to meet his mouth as he works my clit, teasing and sucking on the sensitive bit of flesh. He knows which quivers mean I'm close, and he follows the slightest movements of my body like a hunter with prey. I can never hold out for long, and before I can even feel the orgasm building up in my legs, I'm coming with an intense wave of pleasure. I cry out, lost as he continues to flick his tongue against my clit, dragging out the moment for as long as possible.
Before I can fully recover, he's over me, kissing me hard, his cock dragging against my folds. He rubs his big body against mine, reminding me that he's big and brawny and he owns me. I cry out softly as he fits the head of his cock to my entrance. He always feels so big, so powerful in that first stroke, like he's claiming me from inside out, retaking my body and using it to suit his needs.
I love being owned by him, because no matter how careful and reverent he is when he touches me, there's a hungry, needy edge that requires sating, and it's never more evident than when he edges toward his own release. His focus narrows, and then there's nothing in the world—and nothing in his ever-busy head—other than our joining. There's nothing that exists outside of his cock driving into my body and how it feels. His arousal always stirs my arousal, and by the time he's on the precipice, I'm needy and wanting once more. It's the delicious friction, the absolutely relentless pounding of his cock into me that drives me back to the edge again, and when his release blasts through him, I go with him, climaxing at the same time.
It's incredible—feeling his climax in his mind the same time as I come a second time. It makes the ripples of pleasure last longer, and the afterglow between us is so hazy and pleasant it's like basking in the sunshine.
They should have told me that when they made me hand over my panties. I'd have been all aboard mating with a dragon if I'd been told this sort of thing was part of the deal. I stroke my hand over Mhal's sweat-dampened back and feel…happy.
34
JENNY
I sit on the walkway, outside of the love shack, and watch the skies.
I’m dreaming, I realize.
One bug flies up onto the railing and perches there, watching me. Its eyes flicker with an almost-intelligence, and it lifts one leg and cleans its face as its sits, and I get the vague impression it's trying to be casual. A short time later, another bug joins it. And then another.