Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Satin’s bed groaned underneath my greater weight. She tumbled over to me, like I’d created a sudden black hole, and I caught her by her shoulders.

“Should we sew you up first?” she asked.

“No,” I said, certain. “But—have you ever been with a satyr before?” I was well aware that I was fetishized by certain corners of the internet. There were size-queens—and then there was whatever you had to be to take all of me.

“No,” she said, then turned the tables. “Have you ever been with a human?”

“No.”

“That’s fair then, I guess,” she said, bringing her hands up and reaching for me. They landed on my chest, first, and I let her push me down, so she could feel like she could be in charge. I had a V of shaggier fur there, with shorter fur all around it, and she inspected every inch of me with her fingertips, tracing muscles, tracing scars. My breathing deepened, and I knew she felt that too, as I rocked my head back, and felt my horns catch on her pillows behind me. “So…you have two nipples,” she said, investigating each one individually.

That made me laugh. “I am mammalian,” I said, then wondered. “Is this how you carve your statues?”

“A little,” she said. “People let me touch art other people don’t get to. Some of it is imagination. And some of it’s from memory. Other people I’ve touched. Other lovers.”

Lovers sounded so far removed from what I wanted this to be.

But if I told her what I was hoping this was—or admitted it to myself—she would think I was insane.

“Ahh,” I said, taking one of her hands and bringing it up to my face to lick.

She squealed when she felt my warm tongue tasting the salt of her palm. “Oh my God! Your tongue is so long!”

I pulled up the sleeve of her pajamas so I could lick a broad stretch up her smooth white arm. “It is, isn’t it,” I stated meaningfully.

Her jaw dropped slightly, as I reached for her waist. “You want to take these off?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, nodding quickly, and rising up on her knees to do so at once.

A wall of her ready scent hit me the second the silk came down, dark and delectable, promising me everything I could ever want. My lips rose without thinking, longing to taste her, and the second she’d stripped her silk top from herself—not undoing the buttons, just pulling it off—I was hauling her aboard, holding her above my face.

“C’mere,” I said. “Hold my horns.”

She patted around until she found them, but when she did, when I felt her grab on—God I should’ve unchained my dick before starting anything with her, my raging hard on was gonna tear me.

I paused to appreciate the moment, just taking being with her in, the wild way she was trusting me, anticipating the way she’d taste—and what I could see of her from this angle, the pea of her pink clit trapped under its almond-sized hood, up her body to where her full breasts bounced, wrapped by golden trails of blonde—and then I brought her down on me.

I was enraptured by everything about her. I started stroking her with all of my broad instrument—I knew my tongue was a little rough, and so long as to almost be prehensile—just letting myself bathe in her presence on top of me. She tasted like fresh hay eaten under clear stars on a warm night and I licked her again and again, unwilling to give even a drop of her up.

“Ace,” she sighed, and it sounded like surrender.

I made a pleasured sound beneath her—and started thrusting my tongue in.

She squeaked at that, but then spread her thighs wider, leaning harder into my horns, which put ideas inside my head that’d never, ever, been there before. The warm tunnel I pressed in to, the way she moaned and squirmed, the depth my tongue reached—I did everything on instinct, kissing her with my lips, grinding my chin against her, and above all else sending my fat tongue searching in and out, in and out?—

Because I wanted to make her ready for me.

More ready than any woman had ever been before.

I wanted her to be my mate.

I bucked us both up long enough for me to reach down and unchain my throbbing cock, possessed by a current level of insanity I couldn’t conceptualize, much less understand.

But me moving startled her to speaking. “Oh, Ace,” she said quietly, as her breathing began to speed up and she started to rock, once she was back in place. “Ace—I need that—don’t take it away?—”

I couldn’t tell her I would never seeing as she was riding on my face, but I hoped she understood it. If I had my way, I would be by her side until the end of time—be that tomorrow, or eighty years from now, swinging on a porch.

“Ace,” she moaned again, and her hips started to flutter. I felt her pussy squeeze, winding up, and her juices were covering my fur now. “Ace—Ace, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—” she warned, and then she cried out at the same time as she shoved her hips down.

She came hard, and her pussy taking my tongue, wrapping it tight, again and again, was the hottest thing that’d ever happened to me. Her hips twitched and fluttered with aftershocks, and I was deeply, deeply pleased.

I wanted to leave my mate quaking.

And then she sagged on top of me, curling over and brushing the top of my head with her gorgeous breasts.

“Ace,” she whispered, one more time, and I carefully pulled her off of me, bringing her carefully over to my side. I tasted like her, and if I had my druthers my fur would smell like her for days. My cock had pushed my kilt aside, and was now bobbing above my stomach, its tip changing altitude with each of my breaths, like a plant searching for the sun.

I took her cheek with my hand and brought it toward me. “Did I make you feel good?” I asked her. I already knew, I just wanted to hear it.

She lightly laughed and trailed lazy hands across her body. “Obviously.”