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His species’ tongues are longer than humans. I don’t need a ruler. There are other ways to measure these things.
His first plan of attack is to penetrate me. No half-measures for Zylus. He goes all the way to the hilt. Leaving me no time to wonder whether he likes it, his groan—long and deep and low as if he just took a trip to heaven—tells me all I need to know about how he feels about cleaning my pipe.
Once he’s gotten his fill of my taste, his facile tongue slides out, then takes a leisurely trip through my slick folds on a seek-and-destroy mission of my clit.
Flicks intersperse with sucks and somehow he manages to wrap his tongue around it to pluck it.
“Fuck!” I sputter when I find myself on the edge of release.
Good man, he doesn’t make me wait, doesn’t torture me. He simply goes for the gold, flicking, plucking, sucking the clit and surrounding area into his mouth, and then driving home with one, then two, then three long, thick fingers delving into me in quick succession.
I briefly wonder if his claws will prick me, but when I feel the glorious stretch at my entrance and the way he found my special spot with no need for instruction, the thought flies out of my mind like the cry from my lips.
Light bursts behind my eyes as every muscle in my body spasms in an explosion of pleasure. My channel grips his fingers, pulsing around him. His moan of enjoyment vibrates into my flesh as he doesn’t deviate from his rhythm until he has milked every ounce of bliss from my release and I’m lying here, muscles limp as noodles, legs splayed open to him.
“Plumbers do it better,” I mumble, lips numb, brain having difficulty creating even that stupid sentence.
He chuckles and eases to lie by my side. His expression is soft and affectionate as he says, “Just wait until I show you mytunnelingequipment.”
Chapter Sixteen
Zylus
My Misty is so responsive. Did I just call her mine? That’s impossible. I’ve known her for only a day. In one day it’s possible to feel affection, to feel lust, to know her intimate taste, to even go so far as to make terrible innuendos about tunneling equipment. It isnotlong enough to decide she’s mine.
I sure do like her, though.
After leaving her side long enough to make a pallet with the sheets and blankets we’d folded and placed on the couch this morning, we’re now snuggled together and have even managed to keep Vortex from wiggling his way between us.
I swipe a lock of her brown hair off her sweat-dampened cheek with the dull edge of my claw, and she palms my cheek, not even bothering to hide her goofy, appreciative smile.
Have I ever felt this level of affection for anyone before? Although it’s improbable, it’s easy to answer—no. What I have with Misty is special.
“So? The tunneling?” She wings her eyebrow up in a suggestive pose. “The deep, deep—”
“Penetration?Comingright up.” I try to imbue the word “coming” with all the naughty innuendo it deserves.
“Just one thing…”
Perhaps it’s in every male’s DNA, but I instinctively know that whatever is coming after those few words has the power to change my world. And with statistical probability, I doubt it will be in a positive way.
“Before the tunneling excursion, I just wanted to check.” She actually winces, her small shoulders shrugging to show her discomfort. “You don’t think I’m… crazy, do you?”
“Crazy? Why would I think that? Just because you’ve already bonded with our furry littlechitzaisn’t proof you’re crazy.”
“But maybe… seeing a ghost two nights in a row does?”
Her voice is so quiet and small. First, she was terrified of my asshole brother, now she’s worried I think worse of her?
I wasn’t going to tell her about Nivar for many reasons. First, I wasn’t ready to discuss my species’ ability to spectral shift. She’s from Earth, which is well-known for being provincial and judgmental. I thought perhaps I should wait until, I don’t know… we’ve known each other two full days before I tell her I can morph into what she would consider a ghostly form.
Second, I don’t want her to know Nivar and I are related. She might assume I’m in on the scam.
How, exactly, do I explain that I just happened to be hovering by her house the morning after her first haunting? Or why I didn’t mention my suspicions about Nivar before we bedded down together for the night?
But looking at her now, limply lying in my arms, tracing my abdominal muscles with her finger, gazing at me as if she’s worried I think she’s crazy? Well, I need to come clean.
“I absolutely don’t think you’re crazy, Misty. As a matter of fact, I know exactly what happened the last two nights.”
