Episode Twenty Connection

H azlan

I never realized how much being a slave fucked with my head until right this moment when it's so clear I'm not a slave anymore. I'm a male. A proudborn male in his prime. With my mate's eyes on me as she unashamedly tells me she's desperate for my cock.

Practically flying to her side, I dive between her knees and dip my head to kiss her one more time. These are not the quiet, respectful explorations of a moment ago. This is possession, a statement, ownership.

"Haz," her voice is dreamy. It tells me all I need to know about how she feels about being taken by me, her mate.

As I kiss her, I slide my sheathed claw through her folds. This isn't like that night in the cage where we both struggled to get her slick enough to take me. She's drenched for me.

"You want your proudborn?" I husk.

"I want my mate ."

My cock jerks at that word as a drop of my essence seeps out and hangs at the tip.

"Please."

How could I ever say no to such a sweet request?

I slide one finger into her wet heat. It doesn't just feel like heaven to me; by the sound of her wordless moan, she's been dying for this.

Her hips thrust toward me, initiating a rhythm showing me just how desperate she is to be filled by more.

She mewls when I remove my finger, so I hurry to slide my cock between her nether lips.

"Does my mate want my cock?" I ask, my voice rasping with need.

"Yes."

"Do you need it?" I don't know why I'm teasing her like this. I just can't help myself because her level of desire is making me feel more like a male than ever before.

"Yes. Need."

One of her little hands wriggles its way between us and grips me at the root.

"Right here, proudborn," she says as she pulls it to her empty channel.

I can't resist such a heartfelt invitation. I slip the tip of my cock inside her and moan in pleasure. When I look at her, her eyes wide in fear, I realize my noise wasn't a moan. It was more of a growl.

"I won't hurt you," I croon, then press my way inside my beautiful mate.

I hold myself back because the pleasure is too delicious to rush. Just one little surge at a time as I breach her.

"Haz!"

Perhaps she feels the little ribs on my cock, or maybe it's my size. I saw the humans taking leaks in the yard from time to time. They aren't as big as even the smallest of those they call monsters.

When I slide that last inch and am in to the hilt, we both gasp at the same time. It's too good.

"So full," she says, her eyes fluttering.

I can't hold back anymore. The feeling is too heady.

I take her in long, deep strokes. All the way in and then all the way out. By her little moans of displeasure, I know she hates it when I leave her body. Then her rumbles of enjoyment when I take her again tell me how good it is for her every time I fill her completely.

I learn what she likes, focusing on her hip thrusts and gasps and moans. I lever up on my knees to hit a certain place inside until I find a spot on her front wall that elicits louder gasps and a tighter grip of her nails on my shoulders.

She's keening now. It's nonstop. Her hips are slamming against mine and her breathing is ragged. She's going to come.

I ride her through her explosion, noting every gasp, every almost-word that escapes her mouth, every roll of her hips, and the way she arches her back to take my cock deeper as she slides her hardened nipples against my furred chest.

When she comes, her channel squeezes my cock, trying to milk my seed, but I hold firm. I won't allow myself release until she has had her fill of me. It's only when her grip on my shoulders relaxes and the tight glove of her velvet tunnel quits spasming that I allow myself to jet into her.

I growl in bliss, tossing my head as I feel the pleasure of each exquisite pulse.

Not wanting to leave the warm clutch of her body, I turn her on her side and lie next to her, still connected, my head still swirling with the pleasure we just shared.

Finally, I open my eyes to see her luminous brown eyes gazing at me with profound affection.

"Is it the wrong time to tell you I love you?" I ask, hoping it's not a ridiculous thing to say after what we just shared.

"It's the perfect time."

There's the sweetest smile playing on her lips as she waits for me to say something. Ahhh, she wants me to say it again. This time as a statement, not a question.

"I love you, Lylah, my sweet mate."

"And I love you, Haz, my proudborn male."

Why does my mind choose this moment to flood me with pictures of the centaur and elf? It torments me with the truth of our situation, which is that I'm going to have to share my lovely Lylah.