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“Then take me,” I whisper, raw need running through me like a raging wildfire. “Right here, right now. I don’t care if someone hears us.”

His tongue teases mine with deliberate skill that sends fire racing through my veins. My body responds with unexpected intensity, back arching to press more fully against him, legs parting further to cradle him even tighter.

Through layers of clothing, I feel every hard plane of his body against mine. This should terrify me—wanting something this much, this fast. But when his claws trace my spine, careful despite their sharpness, I arch into the danger of him like I’m already addicted. When his clawed hand slips beneath my shirt to trace patterns across my ribs, I can’t suppress the moan that escapes me.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against my collarbone, voice rough with restrained desire. “If this isn’t what you want.”

“Do your enhanced senses detect any hesitation?” I challenge. “Any reluctance in my physiological responses?”

His skin darkens to deeper crimson, tail coiling possessively around my thigh. “Always my analytical Blair.”

“Not always,” I admit.Vulnerability is easier in this private world, created under the shadow of his wings. “Not with you.”

His primitive satisfaction mingles with so much tenderness, it makes my chest ache with emotions too complex for any spreadsheet to capture. The sound that rumbles from deep in his chest vibrates through me, sending liquid heat pooling between my thighs as his claws trace delicate patterns along my spine.

His movements grow more deliberate as he systematically dismantles my carefully maintained control.

“I want you to see me,” I whisper, my scientific composure completely gone. “Not the researcher. Just me.” His eyes darken with something beyond desire. “I’ve never seen anything but you, Blair. From the moment I carried you to safety.”

With surprising dexterity, his claws undo buttons and fastenings, each inch of exposed skin met with the focused attention of his hands and mouth. Scientific detachment gives way to raw sensation as he explores me with the same meticulous care I’ve applied to my studies of him.

“Your skin tastes like honey and sea salt,” he murmurs against my stomach, tongue tracing patterns that make me tremble. “I’ve wondered for weeks what you would taste like.”

“You’ve thought about this?” The question emerges breathlessly as his claws trace the curve of my hip with devastating precision.

“Extensively.” His admission carries no shame, only honest desire that makes my pulse race faster. “I’ve imagined cataloging every sound you make when pleasure overtakes scientific composure.”

“That’s…” My breathcatches as his mouth finds the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Very thorough research planning.”

His quiet laugh vibrates against my skin. “I learned from the best.”

He eases slowly downward, taking his time in such a controlled manner that I moan with unquenched need.

When his tongue finally makes contact with the center of my desire, analytical thought becomes impossible. He laps at me with deliberate strokes, his forked tongue finding every sensitive nerve ending as his claws grip my thighs, holding me open for his feast. The triple sensation of his tongue parting my folds while his fangs graze my inner thighs and his claws gently prick my skin sends electricity crackling through every cell in my body.

My fingers clutch at his horns, finding purchase as pleasure spirals through me with unexpected intensity. Each stroke of his tongue sends shockwaves racing through my core, my back arching off the bed as he devours me with single-minded focus.

“Oh God, Dante,” I moan, my voice breaking on his name. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Your tongue—it feels so good, so perfect.” The words spill from my lips without conscious thought, scientific composure shattered by the exquisite torture of his attentions.

The wet heat of his mouth combined with the gentle scrape of his fangs against my most sensitive flesh drives me to the edge of madness.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he growls against my pussy, his voice muffled by my flesh. “I could eat you for hours, make you come on my tongue over and over until you’re begging me to stop.” His words vibrate against my clit, sending fresh waves of pleasure through me.

The mate bond amplifies every sensation—his satisfaction at my response, feeding back into my own pleasure until the boundaries between us blur.

His mouth moves with exquisite precision, his tongue tracing delicate patterns that send electric currents racing through me. Each stroke, each deliberate caress, seems perfectly calibrated to drive me higher, as though he’s conducting intimate research into exactly what makes me come undone.

His wings shift with barely contained desire, the membranes trembling slightly as he exercises exquisite control over his more primal instincts. His tail winds more securely around my thigh, holding me open to his exploration with gentle insistence that sends fresh heat coursing through me.

“Your taste exceeds all hypothetical projections,” he murmurs against my most sensitive flesh, the vibration of his words adding a new dimension to the pleasure building within me. “I could conduct this particular experiment forhours.”

“That would be…” My voice fractures as his tongue finds a rhythm that makes coherent speech nearly impossible. “Statistically significant… data collection.”

His quiet laugh sends ripples of excitement racing along already overstimulated nerve endings. One finger, claws retracted, traces gentle patterns against my entrance, careful pressure that questions rather than demands. When I arch into the contact, silent permission granted through body language rather than words, he slowly presses inside with devastating precision.

His movements become more deliberate, his finger curling to find that perfect spot within me as his mouth continues its relentless attention above. When he adds a second finger, stretching me deliciously while his tongue circles my swollen clit, I cry out his name like a prayer. The rhythm he establishes—fingers pumping while his mouth sucks and licks—has me trembling on the precipice of release.

“I’m going to come,” I gasp, my thighs trembling around his head. “Dante, I’m going to—” But words dissolve into incoherent cries as he doubles his efforts, his tongue flicking faster against my clit while his fingers press the sensitive hollow on my front wall that makes my vision go white.