Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Feels like so much,” she breathes, her lips parted in ecstasy. “Oh, Zohr. You feel so damn good.”
I growl, because her words fill me with enjoyment. I like that I can please her with my body, that she gets joy from touching me as I do from touching her. I thrust again, and her breasts bounce enticingly with the movement. Fascinated, I reach for one even as I begin a rhythm, teasing the nipple.
She arches and cries out, her body tensing under mine, and I can tell it makes her pleasure amplify. I snarl my own need and rock into her, over and over. The tension in my own body builds, but my concentration is solely on her. Only when she comes can I take my own pleasure.
Her cunt tightens around my cock, rippling, and she gasps as I continue to flick and tease her nipples. Her mouth opens and her eyes close, and she is enticingly close. I send her visual images of her breasts under my hands, the repeated, steady pump of my cock into her warm body, the slap of our thighs when they meet—
She comes with a cry, pleasure rippling and cascading through her. Her body bows and locks tight around me, and her cunt grips me more tightly than ever. The breath hisses from my throat, and I continue working into her, pushing over and over, determined to make her pleasure last for as long as I can. It ripples through her mind into mine, wave after wave of enticing physical pleasure as I thrust into her.
My sac tightens once again, and I give in to my release, pumping my mate full of my seed and letting the joy of claiming her wash over me. I shudder and then fall forward over her, our sticky skin pressed together as we both pant.
Her thoughts are as dazed as my own. Slowly, she eventually moves one hand and strokes my arm. “Was that okay for you? Doing it that way?”
I ease my weight off of her, not wanting to crush her smaller body. We will do that often, I declare to her. I enjoyed watching your face as you came.
She sighs happily, and when I lie down next to her, she leans in and puts her arms around my neck, burrowing close. I feel a surge of possessive pleasure and inhale deeply of her scent. I push my hand between her thighs and feel how wet and sticky she is with my seed, and push it back inside her, where it belongs.
Mine.
Sometime later, we wash with a bit of water and then laze about in the blankets, drowsing and talking. My Emma is sleepy, her head resting on my thigh as she sucks on one of her candy canes and makes plans. She scribbles her human words on a pad of paper with a small stick. “Definitely need bottles,” she says around the candy cane. “And a book on homemade weaponry. Oh, and I’m making a list of all the places we need to hit up to set up our fortress. Army Navy store, a hunting supply store, a grocery store, camping.” She thinks for a moment and then writes again. “We might be able to find another big box store around here, but I’m not sure we want to go out that far.” She pauses and then scribbles it out. “Safety’s best. We should travel by night. Oooh, and oil. We can use a lot of oil provided we can find a way to heat it.”
Oil? I ask.
“Yup. I read in a book that medieval castles would raise the portcullis long enough to trap the enemies at the gate and then pour boiling oil on them. If it’s good enough for knights, it’s good enough for us. Plus it’s very low tech.” She twists her candy cane in her mouth, then thinks. “Maybe I don’t need a book on prepping as much as I need one on how to get medieval on their asses. Hmm.”
You wish to do this? I ask, curious. I stroke her hair away from her face, unable to resist touching her. Her mind is abuzz with thoughts, all of them enticingly vicious. The things you speak of are slow, torturous methods of harming your enemy. Are you sure you are comfortable doing such a thing?
She turns and looks over at me. Her mouth is a bright pink from the candy and her breath smells sweet. Her eyes glitter with enthusiasm. “Are you kidding me? Azar’s men think to come after us? I’m not gonna simper and wait for them to take us over. I’m gonna burn those motherfuckers to the ground.”
Ah, my sweet, bloodthirsty mate. I am pleased.
29
EMMA
Three weeks have never passed so quickly.
Or so happily.
I whistle to myself as I stuff a rag into an oil-filled bottle, making another homemade Molotov cocktail to add to my growing collection. I munch on one of the last of my candy canes and mourn that I didn’t pace myself better with them. I should have made them last for years.