He took his time, tasting her from behind. It offered a whole new angle and opened her up so that his tongue could reach the very end of her channel. As he tasted her, licking and caressing her honey mouth and honey walls with his tongue, Roarn loved the way she writhed and moaned his name. He didn’t have to ask if he was doing it right—he could tell by the copious amount of juices her pussy made for him that she was enjoying this every bit as much as he was.
At last, he felt her coming again—her honey walls clenching around his tongue and her hips bucking back to meet his mouth. As she did, he felt his shaft throbbing. Gods, she was so delicious! The high, soft sounds of pleasure she made and the way she called his name made him hotter than he’d ever been in his life!
He wished he could be inside her, bonding her to him, but he knew she didn’t want that. She was afraid of getting pregnant, and Roarn supposed he couldn’t blame her—he wasn’t in a position to help her raise a child. He was a fugitive from his own people, in hiding and wanted for crimes he didn’t even remember committing. No, it would be wrong to bond the lovely Mature Elite to him under these circumstances.
But Goddess, how he wished the circumstances were different and he could bond Christine to him forever!
THIRTY
Later, Christine didn’t know how long they went on for. After the second time the big Monstrum made her come, she noticed that he was still sporting an extremely large hard-on. Since turn-about seemed like fair play, she gave him his first blow-job—which he enjoyed immensely.
After that, he wanted her to ride his face so he could try putting his tongue inside her from yet another angle. With any other, smaller man, Christine wouldn’t have felt comfortable in this position. But Roarn was so big and muscular, she felt positively petite as she straddled his face and lowered her pussy down to his eager tongue.
When she came again and he licked her completely clean—making sure to catch every last drop of her juices—she dismounted and snuggled naked in his arms. She loved the feeling of his big, hard body pressed against hers—and the fact that he was covered in velvety fur only made it better. Cuddling with the big Monstrum was a sensual experience, she couldn’t get enough of.
They fell asleep like that, wrapped up in each other, and somehow snoozed the afternoon away. Christine didn’t wake up until she heard Roarn’s stomach growling, several hours later.
Getting up, she gave the big Monstrum a fond look. He was still sleeping, curled on his side and looking for all the world like a big cat who was dozing on the bed.
Only I never saw a cat that took up the whole bed like that, she thought with amusement. He really is something else!
What, exactly, the big Monstrum was, she wasn’t sure—but she did know that he had made his way into her heart with surprising speed. Even now she found herself wishing that there could be something more permanent between them than just this temporary fling.
Don’t be silly, Christine, she told herself briskly, as she put on her second-best robe and went to the kitchen to make them some supper. You know he’s too young for you—this would never work long-term.
But she couldn’t help wishing that it somehow might, even though she knew how impossible it was.
THIRTY-ONE
For the next couple of weeks, they fell into a kind of pattern. In the morning, as Christine grabbed her shower, Roarn got up and started making breakfast. This was something he had asked her to teach him, because he wanted to help and “not be a burden” as he put it.
At first Christine restricted him to just making the morning coffee—but the big Monstrum seemed to have an aptitude in the kitchen and before she knew it, he was getting quite good at making bacon and eggs and even sausage gravy. He still wasn’t much good at making biscuits—the dough stuck to his fur and was terribly hard to remove—but he more than made up for it by being so good with everything else.
Christine would get dressed for work but, before she did, the big Monstrum would bury his face between her thighs and inhale deeply. He seemed to need to breathe in her scent—he told her it helped him to push the Fury to the edges of his mind and keep it at bay. He even admitted to putting his head in her dirty clothes hamper while she was gone, to help calm himself down.
It was a kind of aroma therapy, Christine supposed. And if it helped him fight back the Monstrum version of PTSD, she certainly didn’t mind. He especially liked the scent of her panties, so she made certain to leave them on the top of the hamper when she took them off, instead of trying to hide them as she normally would have.