my fingers search for her feminine pleasure bud.
My first attempt at this wasn’t successful, and I haven’t forgotten it. But Nalle knows me better now, she trusts me, and she’s giving off little signals in the hitching of her breaths, the rising of her hips, and her encouraging moans.
Of course, the concept of her having a main source of pleasure tucked somewhere isn’t entirely alien to me. Female dragons have a bud like this too. Just inside their vent, their pleasure-organ engorges with blood, it brings them unbelievable delight to have it teased, and it’s tucked into a spot that’s a little tricky to manipulate.
I do well enough at manipulating Nalle’s. I know this when she begins barking my name. Her body twitches all over, and I play with the soft, sensitive part of her until she’s trembling and bucking and leaking heat-scented wetness between her thighs.
When she gets to her knees to offer her back to me for mounting, I know she’s ready for breeding.
I catch her by the hair again, twist her neck to bare it for my teeth, and catch her by the nape in a stern hold.
“Halki!” she cries out as the blunt tip at the end of my shaft prods at her swollen folds. Each poke makes her breath hitch with excitement, and hearing her reaction makes me crazed.
My pelvis hugs the pillows of her ass, and it’s a singularly comfortable and enflaming feeling. I want to pound against these and hear our skin smack together. I want to feel my hardness spank her.
When my shaft finds the spot where her softness hides a hot silken mouth, I sink my tip into her wetness, and drive deep.
My shaft’s oil glands spurt the thickest fluid I’ve ever spent, easing my way and heating her insides to liquid fire.
Nalle screams my name, and I growl into her neck. Damnation, this feels like flying straight to heaven.
Her elbows buckle, bringing her shoulders-down on the floor before me, forcing my mouth to release her flesh else I’m afraid I’ll hurt her. But that’s all the concession I’ll make, and because my fist is gripping her hip, she’s forced to arch her back, because I’m not letting her get away. No, she’s staying right where she is. I withdraw my length, reveling in the sucking sound her greedy sheath makes as my shaft pulls out of her body’s erotic hold.
“Ummghhm,” Nalle moans behind her hands, still half-collapsed.
Chest punching her back as I inhale and come down over her to give her nape a nuzzling kiss, I find the willpower to take a slow glide through her tender folds, trailing my cock feelers, letting them go to work before I find that place between her lips again and sink easily back inside. I curl my hips against her hard, making her grunt in shock and shoving her body forward along the floor. There’s a woven rug ahead of us, and if we aren’t rutting in a bed this first time, I can fuck her onto the rug at least.
I pull out of her and slam back in, vowing to do just that.
CHAPTER 19
Nalle
Halki’s member is the stuff of legends. It’s tremendous.
The two strange feelers at the end of his staff elongate and wrap around my clit, tugging and tickling. Every time he withdraws, the tension eases up—and that’s when they feather over me, making me bite my lip and moan at the sensation. When Halki thrusts deep, the tension increases until the feathers jerk off of my clit. It’s a teasing rhythm that drives me wild.
The orgasm hits me like a surging tornado, making me scream.
“Yessss,” Halki hisses as his shaft is treated to a powerful massage. He stops thrusting and holds himself tight inside me to best take advantage of the way my channel flutters and grips him.
My whimpers and noises drive Halki to the edge. He begins hammering me, his hips pistoning with enough power to make me see stars, his release barrelling down on him.
But instead of coming, he pulls out.
Halki wraps around me like a land-attacking octopus. His strong body forces mine to roll over so that I’m facing him.
“Ouch,” I complain when my elbow bangs the floor planks.
“Curses on dark elves! Sorry,” he rasps. He shoves his arm under my shoulders and hauls me up until I’m cradled to his chest. Which is easily three of me wide. My face sticks to his scales; he feels hot as a braised bull’s haunch. He leans us forward