Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
His fingers trace underneath me, the tips finding the spread lips of my sex. My legs are wrapped around his waist for stability and that makes me vulnerable to this slow, plausibly deniable exploration.
“I can’t think when you do that,” I moan.
“Good,” he says, moving my hair to the side.
I feel his teeth graze along my neck, and then I hear him make a sound more like a purr than any human vocal noise. There’s a sharp pinch as his teeth make sharper contact, and all of a sudden I am soft and pliable and wanting. It sweeps me like the river sweeps through me. It makes me want nothing more than him. I’d give up fucking oxygen right now if it meant I could have him inside me.
He lifts me up, carries me out of the river to a drier part of the bank, and lays me down there, stripping off my clothes and allowing the sun to heat my wet, naked body.
“It has been too long since I saw you,” he murmurs under his breath.
I don’t know what that is supposed to mean, and I find myself not inclined to interrogate the meaning all that deeply because he is stripping off his clothing too, revealing one of the most alluring male bodies I’ve ever had the privilege of… oh, my god. He strips off his pants and I find myself staring at a thick monstrous cock already mostly erect.
“There is no way anybody can fit that inside them,” I gasp, half sitting up.
He makes a gentle shushing sound and kneels next to me, gently pressing me back down on the ground.
I feel a certain kind of divine erotic madness in all of this. He shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing it. He’s not supposed to touch a woman he isn’t courting, and I’m not supposed to let a man who isn’t my betrothed so much as touch me. But all I want is for him to touch me. I want it so bad it feels like my blood is on fire from not having him.
“Do you remember anything?” He asks the question with a softness and a wistfulness that tugs at the core of me.
“Remember what?” I ask the question in the hopes of being able to say yes. Whatever it is, I really want to know.
He smiles at me, a little sadness in his gaze. “We will start over, pet,” he says.
“Pet?”
The word stirs something in me. It feels tender and kind, and deeply affectionate, but there’s something else, too. Something I can reach for, but not completely find.
“Don’t try to force it,” he says gently, laying down half by my side and half atop me. He’s propped up on his elbow, gently tracing my naked body with his fingertips, and I am trying to understand why my mind feels like it is trying to split itself in half.
“Don’t force what?”
“The memory,” he says. “It’s not a proper memory anyway. It’s not something that has ever happened to this version of you. But it is something that has always happened to you.”
I assume I am just too horny to understand, or maybe he is too horny to make sense. I don’t really care, because his fingers have traced down between my breasts, over my stomach, and are about to find the curling hair that guards the most sacred part of my body.
“You’re such a pretty girl, pet,” he drawls. “And such a good girl for me, whether you remember or not, you know how to submit to me.”
I blink as something flashes through me. He’s right. It’s not a memory, it’s more like a flash of data, a download that comes from absolutely nowhere and installs itself in my mind. A knowing, incomplete, but tangibly now located inside my skull.
“Freak?” The word falls from my lips.
He smiles broadly and his face changes. I see a flash of fang. A tinge of blue around his temples. The blue eyes burn gold for a moment. It’s not my imagination. It’s as real as the green leaves and the blue sky and the muddy riverbank.
I let out a shriek, which is cut off by his hand covering my mouth. That hand is no longer rough from work, but from scales.
“Don’t panic,” he growls softly, pinning me in place by sliding his thigh over my legs. I am not going anywhere. He has me trapped here on the edge of the river, far from civilization and the protection of my father.
“You remember a name we shared,” he says. “And that is good. In time, you might remember more, or not, but I can tell you this, my little pet. You belong to me, and I am about to show you why.”
He covers my body with his, keeping one hand in my hair to push my neck to the side and allow for another one of those sexually intoxicating bites. I was already drenched with need. I did not know I could get any wetter.