iris to be seen. It makes him look crazed. To complete the impression, his lips are slightly parted, his sharp teeth bared.
The illicit tempo of his stones spanking my ass intensifies. It’s wild. It’s primal. I love it, love everything about this—his weight, I love the smell of him, I love the way he handles me, with frenzied reverence. With burning need.
He’s breathing raggedly, his special oil glands along the sides of his member more evident than ever as streams of unguent wetness exit with every rapid withdraw of his hips, the overfilled spills running down my crack as he crams himself inside me again.
And again.
Hands slide to my hips where fingers dig into my flesh, his dragonman’s nails pricking me in ten buzzing places—and Halki gives a grunting, powerful thrust, grinding us together.
I bite my lip, moaning.
He nuzzles my cheek with his nose, hips slowly parting from mine.
I sigh and relax, sinking into the decadence of the physical stimulation.
Without warning, he bangs himself back inside me and explodes.
I cry out at the sensation of intensely hot dragon sackjuice spraying forcefully against my walls.
Halki bites my shoulder, his teeth sinking deep.
He keeps me pinned underneath of him in all ways—by his heavy body, his piercing rod, and now his fangs.
Spray upon spray of semen fills me up, hitting my insides in pulses, setting off strange pleasure quakes low in my belly.
His special penis antennae pet me softly, a sharp contrast to his claiming holds on me everywhere else.
After a lifetime, he withdraws his teeth and laps lazily at my shoulder like he’s a lion of the mountains, cleaning his well-used mate.
It feels weirdly good.
He sighs atop me, relaxing. I squish under him, absorbing his weight with a satisfaction I never knew was possible.
We lay this way, panting—and yes, with me slowly suffocating.
I should tell him to move, but I can’t drum up the wherewithal to care. If I die like this, it will have been worth it. And now I get it, what Yatanak’s always said about the sacrifice of dying during lusty sex being a price he feels like paying. I get it now.
A rattle starts up behind Halki’s sternum; his purr shakes right into me, the vibrations only loosening my bones even more.
My hands play along the muscles of his sides, my fingers falling in the trenches carved between his sawing ribs, digging in when he inhales, enjoying the way he exhales a shuddery breath.
When I drag my nails up towards his shoulders, Halki groans and drops even heavier atop me, burying his face in my throat. It’s an oddly vulnerable gesture; there’s a tug on my heart as my whole body fills with warmth just to have him resting on me like this.
After a moment, he falls off of me and rolls to his back, dragging me on top of him.
Our hearts pound against each other, gradually calming as they sync beats. And all the while, Halki’s gaze stays glued to mine, his hands caressing me tenderly. Soon, they touch me possessively. And when he’s urging me to position myself so that I’m skewered astride him, he’s baring his teeth, and his oil-glazed staff is sliding into my thoroughly shocked slit.
To think that it started the morning a virgin, for all intents and purposes. It’s had quite the awakening.
...More like attacking.
His eyes capturing mine, I’m sure he can see my shock. “Again?” I croak. “Really?”
When he smiles, Halki’s teeth glint. “Welcome to mate fever.”
CHAPTER 20
Nalle
When the sun dominates the sky and ‘the lusty taskmaster of a moon is gone,’ as Halki puts it, we emerge from our lodgehouse. It’s only been a night’s worth of heat, but Halki looks thinner, and I’m a cum-filled, sticky-swollen mess when I greet my tribe. Halki’s gripping my hand less like he’s holding it and more like he’s shackling it to keep me from getting away.
Like I could. I’m walking bow-legged, my hip is complaining just enough to give me a proud little thrill—and when we round the curve of the path and everyone comes into view, my entire tribe gapes at us, all of them at their fires with their morning tea.
Then they break out in applause.
What follows is a gauntlet of good-natured snickers and ribbing and ribald comments that nearly make my dragon blush as we wind our way to the latrine and a morning bath.
We’re only slightly waylaid when Kulla shouts that she’ll trade me a skein of Qiviut yarn for a ride on Halki.
Qiviut yarn?
I stutter to