Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
She gasped, looking down.
“What’s that?”
“My tail,” I said quickly, feeling a flicker of panic that she might recoil. “It… it has a mind of its own sometimes. When I’m near you, it wants to touch you. I’m sorry.”
But she didn’t pull away from me—my brave, curious little witch. Instead, she slid her small, soft palm along the thick, veined shaft of my cock, curiously exploring its length, its heat. Her fingertips brushed the prominent, swollen ridge of my knot—already thick and straining—so ready to tie us together.
I let out a ragged groan, every muscle in my immense frame locked and tense beneath her exploratory touch. Her little hands felt so good on me…so soft, so warm.
“You’re trembling,” she whispered.
“You do that to me, little witch,” I growled “Every touch is a brand. I’ve wanted this—wanted to feel your hands on me—for so many lonely years. You have no idea the torment of waiting for you.”
She didn’t reply. But she didn’t stop touching me either. Her hand stayed—a warm, hesitant weight on the part of me that belonged only to her.
I swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room. This moment was everything…her hands on me…her scent filling my lungs…the quiet, trusting darkness between us.
My shaft throbbed beneath her grip, a thick, slick drop of fluid beading at the tip. Gods of the Shadows, I wanted her so desperately. I ached for her.
“You’re so hard,” she whispered, her small hand stroking up and down. “Do…do you need to come?”
I knew she would stroke me off if I asked her to, but I didn’t want that—not yet. Right now I wanted to focus on her—on the need I could feel building inside her. I knew she hadn’t had a male to love her or touch her in a long, long time. Not since before her husband had gotten sick.
“No, little witch,” I murmured. “Now that you’ve touched me…now that you know the shape of the monster who craves you… let me touch you in return. Let me make you feel good.”
Her breath hitched—a sharp, sweet sound in the dark.
The choice was hers.
I waited to hear what she would say.
19
DANNI
The monster’s request hung in the air between us. When his big hand stroked over my arm again—a possessive slide of fur and heat—I didn’t pull away—I melted into it. His touch was slow and warm and soft as velvet—a deliberate, gentle caress that promised me everything I’d ever craved.
I turned to face him in the darkness, my heart pounding against my ribs. Even though I couldn’t see his face clearly—except for those glowing, golden eyes—I could feel his need humming in the air between us like static. It was a palpable, crackling energy that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. My breath caught in my throat, and I knew I wanted him as badly as he wanted me.
“You…you can touch me,” I whispered. My voice sounded breathless in my own ears. But I meant it with every fiber of my being. I wanted to feel those big, warm hands on me—all over my body. I couldn’t deny it, even to myself.
The monster’s answering rumble of pleasure vibrated through the mattress, a deep, predatory sound that resonated in the very core of me.
“Thank you, little witch,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I promise I will only give you pleasure. Only what you want. Only what you ask for.”
His hand moved to cup my breast gently through the thin silk of my nightgown, his palm hot even through the fabric. The silk had shifted during the night, offering him easy access, and he made a low, guttural sound of pure, male satisfaction.
“So soft… so full and heavy in my hand. Gods, I’ve dreamed of this, of the feel of you.” He shifted on the bed. “Let me see you. I need to see the flesh I’ve been fantasizing about.”
Apparently he could see in the dark much better than I could. For a second, fear prickled at the back of my neck, cold and unwelcome. I was no blushing twenty-something anymore. I had soft places—rounded curves—the silvered maps of stretch marks, and the lines life had etched around my eyes and at the corners of my mouth. But the devastating heat of his touch…the absolute, unwavering worship in his voice kept me from saying no to his request.
I wanted to believe he would still want me even if he saw me naked.
I needed to believe it.
I sat up slightly and slid the straps of my nightgown off my shoulders, the movement feeling both terrifying and exhilarating. The silk pooled around my waist, and I lay back, baring myself to him in the dark, offering my body in mute acceptance of his desire.
“I’m afraid I’m not exactly a pretty young thing anymore,” I said, my voice wavering, betraying my vulnerability. “Probably not what you wanted.”