"I love you, Beauty," I whisper, slipping my hand between us to strum against her clit.
"I love you!" she cries, her pussy clamping down on my cock.
So I repeat it. And then again.
Until she's crying out my name and coming all over my cock. Her pussy flutters around my shaft as a flood of her juices drip down my balls. I lose what little control I have left. It just…snaps. I pound into her without rhythm, growling her name.
She screams as she comes again. I can't hold off this time. I bury my face in her throat, roaring as her orgasm rips mine from me. I writhe in ecstasy, my spine tingles, and my balls draw up. I drive into her, pumping cum into her.
Her name falls from my lips like a reverent prayer, whispered against her damp skin between worshipful kisses. I can't stop touching her as my heart pounds and my balls throb. Goddamn. What this woman does to me.
"Draven," she whispers, slumping in my arms. "My handsome beast."
I peel her away from the wall and turn, placing her beneath the spray of water again. Thank God we have boilers in the basement and a nearly unlimited supply of hot water.
"What are you doing?" she asks when I reach for the shampoo.
"Cleaning you up so I can get you dirty again."
"Oh." She pauses. "Carry on then."
I smile, my heart lighter than it's been since the day I assumed this monstrous form.
Chapter Eight
Dahlia
I'moutofmymind with pleasure. Can you die from feeling too good?
When I told him I loved him, I made sure to emphasize the wordman. I'm going to lavish all the attention, care, and encouragement I never received growing up, and I'm going to do it with him. I don't want to hear him say a bad word about himself or think of himself in a negative way. I won't have it. I spent my life feeling squashed or like my opinion didn't matter, and it just isn't true!
Draven was second-guessing himself, calling himself a beast when in fact there is more humanity in his little finger than in so many other people. He said I'd seen him at his worst and was afraid I would judge him. But whose criteria is he judging himself by? Why aren't we free to live how we want? To live like individuals, the way nature intended. Beauty is everywhere. It's all around us and shows up in so many forms, but everyone should be free to express themselves, not exist in little boxes. That's why I left my home—I was tired of being told what to do and what to believe. I wanted to strike out on my own and figure out who I am and what I believe in.
Draven makes me feel things I didn't think were possible. Like falling head over heels in love at first sight is possible. Deep down in my heart, I suspected it was true, but now I know for certain. And I can confidently say true love finds you when you least expect it.
And as for true love being blind? Well ….fate served me up a blue-haired man with horns. It can't get any better than that!
He's a marvel and a wonder and utterly precious to me. I could spend the rest of my life thinking of ways to love him, but right now, he's put me first again. But this time, I'm not content with being a passive participant.
Warm water sluices over his bare shoulders, glistening droplets forming a mist that rises into my face. I breathe it in, unable to smell his unique scent under the strong artificial fragrance of shampoo and soap.
I lather soap in my hands and caress his shoulders, kneading his muscles and rubbing my hands up and down his back. He drops his head forward when I stroke the nape of his neck and lets out a satisfied moan. His reaction makes me giggle, and as I lather soap up his arms, I run my fingers over his biceps, then slide down the length of his forearms. When I reach his hands, I take each finger, lavishing attention on them one by one.
When we were in the forest, I dropped to my knees in front of him. He pulled me up, telling me we had plenty of time. Of course what happened after that scared me half to death, which puts an end to his theory. He's precious to me, and I want to make the most of every single moment we share. It's my turn to take charge.
I ran my hands over his chest, circling his nipples, running my fingertips over his ribs. Crouching in front of him, I wash his feet, calves, then the backs of his thighs. Using firm strokes, I knead my knuckles into his flesh, and he sighs his pleasure, the sound reverberating around the tiled walls. His cock is at eye level, standing at attention, twitching, and making my mouth water. I slide my hand down the length of it, then tug his balls, stroking, teasing, testing to see what he likes.
Without drawing attention to what I'm doing, I glance up and make sure his eyes are firmly shut. When all the soap is rinsed off, I do what I wanted to do in the forest, and it's purely for him. If tonight is about firsts, I want all of them.
Draven hisses through gritted teeth when I lick him from root to tip. He tries to pull back, but I grip the shaft and bring the flared crown to my lips, taking as much of him in my mouth as I possibly can. It doesn't go in very deep, but I hold him by the base and use my other hand to pump him toward my lips. His hips start moving, and he abandons himself to sensation, making me infinitely happy.
"Jesus Christ, woman. What are you doing to me?" he moans as I stroke him faster, flicking my tongue at the ridge under the crown until his legs shake. He grabs the top of my head and pulls me off just as his entire body shudders, and he paints the tiles with his release.
"Goddamn," he whispers, lifting me to my feet. He tips my chin up for a slow, searing kiss. Streams of water cascade down my cheeks, forehead, and lips.
Draven wraps me in his arms, tugging me closer, and I never want this feeling to end.
Over the following days, life settles into a delicious pattern of work and play. Although there's no reason to hide our relationship from Gretchen, we decided to keep things quiet for a little longer.