26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Sylas

I can’t think. It’s not that my thoughts are spinning. There simply are no thoughts. I am just a body: nerve endings and synapses and urges that are so potent all I can do is act on my desires.

Cally tastes like heaven. I would tell her that if I could stop what I’m doing, but it’s physically impossible to pull my tongue from her wet heat. Her delicious scent is powerful, so potent I want to drench myself in it. And the taste? It can’t be described other than it’s what I’ve been searching for my entire life.

My free hand is biting into the flesh at her hip. I wish I could be gentler, but even a nuclear bomb couldn’t tear me from her, couldn’t make me release her.

I’m controlling her position. Even though she’s on top of me, I’m the one who decides how close she gets to me, how deeply my tongue spears into her. I thrust in to the hilt, loving her gasped hiss when my long tongue finds a spot inside her that causes her thighs to clench around my ears.

“Sylas.”

Although I love hearing my name on her lips, what is even more fulfilling are the little moans and hums and sighs that rumble out of her in response to what I’m doing.

Finally, though I’m not satiated with this swift taste of her—I’ll never get enough of her to be filled up—I pull away long enough to say, “You taste so good I could exist on this. Only this, Cally.”

Her palms are flat on the wall behind me, giving her control and freedom of movement. She tips her hips forward while wiggling backward. “Right there, Sylas. My little bundle of nerves.”

Her voice is breathy, but her need is clear. She’s too close for me to see what she needs, but by pointing my tongue and exploring, it isn’t hard to find the little bump that makes her hiss in pleasure. To ensure I took her cue, she purrs, “Yeah. Right there.”

I experiment with the flat of my tongue as well as the point, and she gives excellent nonverbal instruction with her expressive moans and hip thrusts. This is so intimate: feeling her, tasting her, tuning in to her breathing and the force with which she presses against my mouth.

My free hand urges her on, caressing and stroking as I increase the pressure with my tongue.

Every time I focus on my own pleasure, I have to tighten all my muscles to keep from spilling into my pants. This needs to be about her. My biological urges can wait.

If her responses are anything like mine, she’s close. She’s open-mouth panting, sometimes whining. I don’t know what to do to push her over the edge until her small hand grips mine and moves it, guiding it between us.

“Fuck me.”

I have no idea how I keep myself from coming when I slide my finger through her slippery folds and plunge it into her hot, wet heat.

Moaning against her, I suck and flick and press with the flat of my tongue and I do just as she asked, fucking her with one finger, then two. Adding a third finger is what triggers her release as she shouts her pleasure with wordless cries, her walls fluttering around me, her thighs quivering.

I ride through it with her, doubting my own release could possibly feel as good as simply watching Cally enjoy hers.

She leans more weight against the wall for a moment, panting in between meaningless monosyllables, then crashes next to me on the bed.

I examine her face, almost desperate to discover if she’ll still be able to gaze at me with affection as she did before, or if something changed between us now that I’ve exposed some of my predator DNA.

The moment seems so serious, fraught with meaning, until she laughs. It’s not a little chuckle, or girlish giggle, but a laugh so deep she throws her head back with glee.

Then her expression softens as our gazes connect. “I may be an author, Sylas, but I have no words. Well, these are words, but I can’t adequately describe how wonderful that was.”

Usually after I come—and I don’t think I’ve ever come with that much force—I want to roll over and fall fast asleep. Perhaps women are different from men because instead of looking sleepy, she seems invigorated.

“Tactical error.” She sits on her knees and is tugging at the button on my shorts. “Should have taken your pants off before putting the ropes on. Oh well,” she shrugs, “I’ve thought of a workaround.”

She unzips me, then allows our gazes to collide as she asks, “Any warnings? Need to give me a heads-up before the big unveiling?”

“From what I’ve seen of the soldiers I’ve stood next to at the urinal, I’d say big is the only operative difference.”

I’m observing her closely, assuming she’ll be fearful. Instead, she gives me a blatant smirk kneels between my spread thighs, unzips me, then tugs my pants down. Although my shorts catch on the ropes connected to my left ankle, she helps me pull my right leg out before she winks at me with a grin, then allows her gaze to slide over my body.

When she sees my cock, she releases a sharp intake of breath. It’s standing tall, pulsing, and dripping pre-cum. There’s a concerned swallow as her eyes narrow.

“Just, umm, strategizing.” Her gaze finally meets mine and she nods. “I think I’ve got it figured out.”

She licks the flat of her hand, then wraps it around my girth to stroke. I moan and grip the sheets at my side as she lowers her head and kisses my tip with tender lips before licking the seed that has pearled there.

How many times have I imagined a female’s lips on me? Nothing could have prepared me for the powerful whirl of pleasure whipping through my body at a hundred miles an hour.

After a hum of pleasure, her tongue runs along the underside of my shaft, seeking more of the taste as she licks off drops of pre-cum. Shivers tide through me in waves as she rhythmically bobs up and down.

She stops long enough to breathe, “Sylas. You taste so good,” then resumes her pleasurable torture.

All I can do is lay back and moan as her warm mouth moves up and down my length. My hips reflexively thrust against her and I cringe, praying I don’t get too carried away with the exquisite bliss and accidentally hurt her.

She’s teasing me now, swirling her tongue around my crown and flicking it against the head in a way that leaves me weak but desperate for more.

I want to move, to thrust, to break my bonds and throw her onto her back and pound into her. Thank goodness she used the rope. I bugle, long and low and desperate. The clamor ends with a few short whistles as my legs scrabble against the sheets, my free hoof so forceful it rends the fabric.

Cally uses suction, her cheeks dimpling in and out with each bob of her head. My antlers rub against the wall behind me as I thrash. It’s one of the few responses I can show with half my body bound so effectively.

Cally’s gaze finds mine, communicating wordlessly as she sucks, drawing me so close to the edge I feel myself starting to unravel.

“I’m going to come,” I warn, doubting she likes my taste enough to want to be on the receiving end of my release.

She pulls back for a moment and fills the void with praises. “You’re doing so well. Tell me, do you want to come now or do you want more pleasure?”

At first, her question strikes me as crazy. I’ve wanted release since ten seconds after my last one. Between her and my rut, I have no self-control.

Somehow, though, instead of demanding—or begging—to come, my voice thick with passion, I urge, “More.”

“Perfect.” She sucks me down as far as she can manage before the word is fully out of her mouth.

I’m so long and thick it would be impossible for her to take all of me. She uses both hands near my base to work in rhythm with her bobbing head until I lose myself completely. I hear my own moans and pleas as though they’re coming from someone else.

Unable to hold back any longer, I explode. With one final groan of surrender, I come hard against the back of her throat, calling out her name into the quiet room as if this moment will last forever.

My muscles tense and spasm as my orgasm floods through me. I’m in control enough to slide my fingers through her hair, telling her in the only way I can how much affection I have for her, how connected I feel.

She rides me through my release and the aftermath, then laps me from base to tip over and over as though she can’t get enough of me. Finally, she crawls up to lie next to me, her eyes shining with happiness and a touch of mischief.

“I have no words, Cally. Nothing could express how… honored I feel.”

She shakes her head adamantly. To make herself even more clear, she presses her finger over my lips.

“Don’t! Don’t thank me for something so freely given. Don’t think for a second I didn’t enjoy every bit of that. Those scientists fucked with your head. Maybe the military did, too. Reject barracks, my ass. You’re a terrific person and what we just did, sir, was my pleasure.”

She giggles and gives me the sweetest, smacking kiss on my cheek. Using my free hand, I turn her chin and steal a kiss.

“Is that what I taste like?” I murmur after I plunder her mouth.

“That was you and me all mixed together. Now I’m going to untie you.”

When she eases out of my arms, I grab her wrist.

“It’s still not safe, Cally. I’m still in rut. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“I’m too tired to fight, Sylas. We’ll argue about it tomorrow.”