Page 47

Story: Beak Performance

“God, Raven. That feels so good.”

I wanted Arne to lose control for me. Raising my eyes to his, I gripped his cock and pulled off.

“Oh fuuuck.” His heavily hooded gaze roamed over my face, my hand, and clung to my irises before he fixated on my mouth. I tongued his head, hungrily lapping up the first drops of precum.

“I love how you taste, Viking,” I groaned, my voice throaty. “Give me more!”

With a whimper, he stroked my curls back. His thick, furry thighs trembled around me. More drops leaked out of him. I licked them away and dipped my tongue into the slit at his cockhead.

“Raven!” It was barely a whimper, lewd and needy.

Yep, hard again.

“Come in my mouth,” I commanded. “And then I will bend you over the table.” I inched my head back at the dining space behind us.

“Oh fuck, baby.” Strong hands gripped my face, and he bucked his hips, sliding his dick between my lips. A handful of shallow thrusts—and my hand fondling his nuts—was all he needed. His warm cum flooded my mouth.

I didn’t swallow, but rose to my feet. I dragged him into my arms and slammed my lips on his.

Arne’s tongue thrust into my mouth, greedily lapping at his own release.

With a groan, I took hold of his sculpted ass, kneading the hard globes of muscle and grinding my dick to his body.

“Get your ass over there,” I told him in my deep, slightly distorted voice, which signalled the Night Raven had come out to play. He’d been lurking under the surface all morning.

My gorgeous viking shivered, and I surveyed him, knowing full well that darkness swirled in my eyes. He looked out of it already. His face was slack, a dribble of his own cum clung at the corner of his mouth, and his pupils were blown wide.

My mouth curled up in a half smile, and I took a step back. “Be a good boy and do what I tell you.” Arne moaned under his breath as his dick twitched visibly.

My heart.

My bulky, capable captain, always in control of everything, loved being told what to do.

“Go,” I growled, giving him a wolfish grin. He gasped, turning on his heel, whipping off his shirt as he went.

Maybe this was why it worked so well between us. He held the reins on the ice, and I took them in bed.

I sauntered into the bedroom to grab the lube, taking my time. He would be even more of a mess if I kept him waiting, bent over a table. He always got so needy when I did—begging for my dick.

The Nachtkrapp urged me on. If only my sweet viking knew I was at least as desperate as him.

Good Lord.

The sight of Arne stopped me in my tracks.

His upper body was draped over the tabletop, hands gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles turned white.

I marvelled at his ass, fuzzed with dark hair, nuts nestled deep into the apex of his thick legs.

I strolled over to him, loving how he watched me like a hawk, the breath rasping in and out of him.

I plopped the bottle down on the table beside his arm, his muscles straining as if he feared dropping off the face of the earth.

“Sweet Princess,” I muttered, trailing my fingertips down his spine and raising goosebumps in my wake. “You look so gorgeous bent over like that. With that pretty pink hole on display for me.”

He whimpered softly, the tip of his tongue coming out to wet his lips.

“I love it when you are so hungry for me. So desperate.” My voice broke, dropping down a couple of octaves when my other form forced himself to the front of my consciousness.