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I can imagine Libby working her fingers in me, maybe her whole hand. I don’t know why I get turned on by the idea—I never have before. I think because it’s her. Everything with Libby is amazing. “What I want most is to feel you sliding around me. All of me is yours, the rest of me, whenever you want it.”
“No woman in her right mind would pass that up.” Libby climbs back up my chest, little fingers digging into my fur and indenting my muscles in a way that I love. She’s clumsy and pleasure-drunk. Her pussy warms my crown for a second, and then she’s riding down my length, falling as she moans, her peach impaled on my sword.
“Rub your clit for me,” I rasp. I want to watch this show, remembering the feel of her fingers exploring me, glorying in the smooth, easy way her pussy accepts most of my length.
Libby nods, hand busy, alternately rubbing, then slapping. My tail assists, until she stops touching herself altogether, pushing her hips forward to receive the attentions of my tail—and crushing my crown in a vortex of pleasure at the same time.
“Libby! Oh, my God, yes, Libby!” I roar as the release that I’ve been holding back crashes down like a wave.
Her pussy takes all it can hold and the rest overflows, flooding down my flushed shaft like the streams of melted wax from a long-burning candle. Libby waits, moaning in her own release, and then pops her spasming pussy from my softening length. For a second, I see the dark chasm of her opening flooded with white cream.
“How can anything be so pure and so damn erotic at once?” I grumble. All I can think about is how fucking hot she looks, drenched in my seed, and also how beautiful it is that one day our lovemaking will create a new little life.
“I dunno,” Libby murmurs, collapsing beside me. “We need a shower. Again.”
“In a minute. Can’t move. Legs on break.”
She giggles. “It’s love.”
“What’s love?”
“It makes everything pure and nasty at the same time. Love does. Because sex can be crazy fucking and also like...spiritual.” Her pink, flushed face gets even more flushed, turning a dark cherry red. “First time stuff?”
“Yeah. First time stuff. And thinking of the future stuff.” Maybe tomorrow morning, I’ll be braver. “Libby. Libs? After we shower, do I need to take you home?”
She’s half-asleep on me. “Hmm?”
“Tomorrow is Monday. Do I need to take you home?”
Her voice is dreamy and drowsy as her eyes shut. “I am home.”
Chapter Sixty-One: Libby
On Thursday morning, I look up and see Chloe, the lady who owns the second-hand shop standing in front of me. She has a calico cat in a carrier. “Marmalade is due for her shots. Doctor Peterson said I could swing by before the shop opens.”
“Oh! Yes, that’s right.”
“I know you. You’re dating the ironworker. The one who likes loud music.” Chloe looks up at me, her pale, almost green skin creasing in a smile. “I saw you at my shop the other day.”
“That’s right! I like that loud music, too.”
Chloe smirks. “It’s funny what humans call loud, I suppose.”
I blink and notice little details that would have escaped me before. Chloe’s milky-green skin surrounds emerald green eyes. Her hair floats around her shoulders and cascades down her back in beautiful almost-white waves. The more she talks, the harder it is to—
“Peterson!”
I blink. Something is weird. Why is the pretty lady shouting?
“Chloe! What did you do?”
My boss is forcing his hand over my eyes and making violent shushing sounds. “It’s okay, Libby. Chloe didn’t mean any harm.”
“What harm?” I ask groggily. “So pretty.”
Chloe whispers, “I’m a banshee. My voice can mesmerize. Most humans can’t hear the magical qualities. You’ve become sensitized to the supernatural through exposure to that minotaur and this old satyr, I suppose.”
“Oops.”
