Page 18

Chapter

Eighteen

Erin

M ine .

The word resonates in my chest, my throat growing tight at the implication, but the thought is drowned out a second later by the pounding throb between my thighs.

My nipples harden, and I catch myself biting down on my lip as he swirls the cloth over the left breast and then the right, paying special attention to both nipples. The friction on my skin is delicious.

My hands clench underneath the water and I hold his gaze, watching his tongue dip out of his maw and dance over his canines.

How can I be ready to go again? On no sleep, with no food or water, yet I’m acting sex-starved. It makes no sense to me, and the longer he works to massage my breasts, the less inclined I am to worry about it. I want him.

I clench my thighs together as my core goes molten with lust.

“Do you like this?” Syros asks.

His breathing picks up and his voice sounds hoarse. His tongue flicks out across his teeth a second time, and his lower jaw drops slightly, his chest rumbling.

Is he panting?

I certainly am.

There are no words. My tongue has tied itself. I can only nod, swallowing hard.

Yes, I like it very much. More than I should like it because this is still a monster caressing me. The tip of his nail scrapes my nipple through the cloth and I swallow down a cry.

My breasts tighten, desire spiraling lower until I cross my legs against the sensation.

It takes everything inside me not to reach down and finger myself. Or to grab his wrist and have him do it for me.

His gaze drops to follow the movement of my legs. “You are aroused again, Erin. Your scent has changed.” He lifts his skull and inhales deeply.

I force myself to laugh and meet his glowing red eyes. “How can you smell anything over the gollilock?” I’m surprised my voice holds firm. “You said it was pungent.”

Looking at him does strange things to me. There is nothing human about his features and yet his emotions are clear, just like his lust. Syros is enjoying this as much as I am. His eyes go a darker and richer red the way they did in the forest when he chased me.

No, I correct. When he caught me.

Both of us enjoyed the chase and the time is past for me to keep denying it. There is a different sort of enjoyment with this bath tonight.

There is something absolutely primal about the dance between death and sex, knowing your life hangs in a balance and being so utterly caught up in it.

His claws are still on my breast and he dips the tip of his snout to the crook where my neck and collarbone meet, dragging bone against my skin.

“I’m not sure how I can, but your scent has changed but your energy has as well,” he says, “and it’s intoxicating. I want to taste you again. I want to feel your body contracting around mine and squeezing my cock as I bury deep inside of you.”

I huff out a laugh, my mouth going dry. “I’m a little too tired for another repeat of what happened earlier. Especially with how hard you go.”

He fills me to the brim. I’m not sure where all of his length goes when he spears me. I don’t care.

“But you want it.”

Do I? Yes, I absolutely want it, he’s right.

My pussy throbs and aches from earlier, but I’m ready for another round. A wave of heat washes through me and I shudder. Syros draws in another breath and his lower jaw drops to nip at my neck.

He’s hungry all right, but this time there is only a trickle of fear.

“Stand up,” he orders. “I will take care of this.”

Rather than fight him, I grab hold of the edge of the tub and use it to lift myself up. I can’t look away. He’s got me captured and frozen in place with the hot water lapping at my knees. Syros stands, towing over me, and slowly slides his hand from my breasts to the juncture between my legs.

His cock is engorged, jutting out from his dark fur and bobbing like it’s eager to get to me. Precum slicks the slit at the top and drips down the base.

“Open your legs.”

His growl has me shivering in the best way. Still holding the basin side, I slowly inch my legs apart to give him better access.

He wraps his free hand on my waist to steady me and drops the cloth, using his fingers. He dips them toward my pussy, drawing the edge of his knuckle through my folds.

The first touch has me clenching and crying out with need. My clit twinges, sending electricity swirling through my system.

“You are so soft, Erin.”

My name is nothing more than two gravelly syllables ripped from the back of his throat as pleasure spirals through me.

The longer he works on me, the harder he gets, until he’s growling through every touch. The brush of his fur accompanied by his steady working of my clit has me inching closer to orgasm.

My gaze drops to his erection, to the massive length and the bulbous head.

I lick my lips.

If I hadn’t already been impaled by him, I wouldn’t have thought it possible to fit him inside of me. But my body somehow found a way.

Why am I so attracted to him?

He’s not human and there is nothing remotely human about him.

“Yes, little human,” Syros groans. He looms over me and brings the tip of his snout to my head, inhaling deeply. “You know you are ready.”

He brushes his knuckle to my throbbing pussy again before he changes the angle, pushing one clawed digit inside. I gasp at the intrusion and my legs wobble. The claw scrapes my insides and the mix of pleasure and danger has me closer than ever.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? You are soaked for me, radiant. Hotter than a fire.” His voice holds an edge of humor. “You can’t wait for me to fuck you.”

Words evade me.

He twists his sharp-clawed finger around inside my channel and I clench around him. The orgasm crashes over me, causing me to gasp, my head dropping back on my neck and my breath stolen. Every part of me goes tight and hot.

In the next moment, Syros pulls his finger free, taking me by the waist in both hands and hauling me out of the tub fast enough for me to gasp.

My feet dangle in the air for half a beat before he sets me down, turning away to grab a stool from someplace in the shadows. Syros sets the stool down, settles himself on top of it with his legs splayed and his cock jutting out into the air.

That is the only part of him even remotely familiar, anatomically speaking. The soft flesh is at odds with the rest of his dark fur. I can’t look away.

He growls. “Come.”

“I already did,” I whisper.

“Your humor is out of place here. Come, now, or I will be forced to take more drastic measures with you. I will show you what happens if you displease me.” He stops. “If I’m not able to fuck you now , I’ll be displeased.”

It seems as though it’s his own brand of humor, and the small edge of amusement I feel confuses me. I take a step forward, then another, until I’m standing between his legs.

How will he taste? If I bend my head and taste him?

He’s had his tongue inside of me, deeper than any man has ever gone before, but the thought of using my own mouth on him, of sliding his dick between my lips, makes my abdomen tighten with a combination of desire and worry.

“You will obey me in all things,” he reminds me. “Whenever I want to use you, you will let me do so. Although it is so very sweet and arousing when you resist.”

I’m close enough to reach out and touch him if I want to. Something stops me from doing so, a small voice in the back of my head that says if I’m the one who makes the move, then it will mean something about me.

A story I tell myself where I am wrong for this.

Where I am sick, and there is something wrong with me for wanting it so badly.

A small measure of relief courses through me when Syros takes me by the waist again, with both hands. He lifts me high, balancing me over top of his cock. My legs widen automatically in anticipation before he spears inside of me with one thrust, impaling me on his hardness.

I’m ready for him, dripping, but the intrusion has me screaming.

“Yes,” he grinds out.

He shoves me down until he’s buried to the base inside of me; he’s so deep, it feels like he’s rearranging my insides. My pussy clamps down on him and I force my eyes open. Force myself to look up at him.

“Just like this.” Syros moves me. He lifts me up until only the first inch of his cock is inside and then slams me back down. Working my body like I am some kind of toy for his pleasure.

Then he picks up the pace and I’m grunting, panting, struggling to see reason and make sense of this. There’s no room to think about my exhaustion. There is only the fast pace, the way he fucks up into me, filling every bit of available space.

The way he feels like he’s branding my insides.

“You are so tight,” he groans.

I’m not supposed to like the way he’s using me. I’m not supposed to like how he feels inside of me, the tip of his erection practically pushing into my stomach, or get even hotter at the thought of his knot.

He’s forcing me to take him so fast I barely have time to cry out. The friction is incredible, the pace supernaturally quick. It’s everything I can do to hang on and reach for his shoulders while he impales me again and again.

Slamming me down onto his cock.

Forcing me to take him, punishingly, without mercy. Without stopping.

He uses my body.

Syros is coming inside of me in a matter of minutes, finding his own pleasure between my legs and filling me with hot semen. The knot at the base of his cock flares up and engorges. He forces me down on him through the length of his orgasm, keeping me in place until he’s empty, keeping us attached so that his cum has time to coat every inch of my insides.

There is nowhere for me to go, and I’m not pulling free.

I’ve stopped fighting back.