Page 38 of Fated to the Gargoyle

She pushes up onto her elbows, legs still parted around me, and stares. “Wait, what? You’re a six-hundred-year-old virgin?”

My wings settle behind me, at peace with what I am. “It is the way of the gargoyle. We do not mate with anyone but our fated mates.”

Her knees start drawing together. I set a claw against one and stop them, gentle. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t wait for you.” Her chin comes up while her fingers twist in the sheets. “I’m not a virgin.”

“You did not know I existed.” I hold her eyes so she can measure the truth in mine. “I didn’t expect you to wait for me to find you.”

“I think⁠⁠—”

“I am ravenous for you, Treasure.” I let the growl into the words. She deserves to hear how much I mean them. “I can smell your arousal. Please. Allow me to pleasure you.”

“But⁠—”

It is the closest a gargoyle comes to begging. “You said you could love a monster.”

She swallows. Her knees ease back open under my claw, and she nods.

That small nod moves me more than any oath I’ve ever sworn. “I will worship you for as long as I walk this earth.”

She falls back against the mattress. “Okay, but your dick⁠⁠—”

I curl my claw around her hip and hold it steady. “I promise you, you will fit me. You were made for me, my queen.”

Her fingers let go of the sheets. “I’m nervous. But I want this.”

That’s all I need.

My tongue slides out and draws a long line up the inside of her bare leg, from her ankle to the crease of her thigh, and her whole body jumps against the sheets. Her panties are soaked through, sweet and heavy with her, and the scent alone nearly puts me on my knees. I hook one claw into the fabric at her hip and tear it away in a single pull, tossing the scrap behind me.

“Soren⁠—”

I lower my head between her thighs and take my first taste of my mate.

She cries out and her hands grab my head, and I lose whatever plan I had. She tastes the way she smells, strawberries gone dark and ripe, and centuries of discipline crack straight down the middle. I drag my tongue through her, learning her, and her hips buck up into my mouth.

“Oh my— Soren⁠⁠—”

My claws bracket her hips and pin her still. My tongue reaches where no man’s ever could, curling deep into her pussy while my growl rolls up into her from underneath. She’s tight, too tight for what I’ll ask of her tonight, so I stretch her open gently, deeper with each pass, and she writhes against my claws and gets nowhere.

“Wait— I can’t— oh my god⁠⁠—”

I lift my head just enough to ask. “Shall I stop?”

“Don’t you dare.” She grabs my ear with one hand and shoves me right back down where I belong.

I feast on my mate. My tongue works all of her at once, buried deep in her pussy while the flat of it drags up over her clit on every pass. Her slick runs down my chin, and I let nothing go to waste.

She reaches over her head for something to grab and finds only mattress. I take her hips and lift, folding her thighs over my shoulders until her heels dig into the joints of my wings, and I hold her up off the bed entirely, all her weight resting in my hands, nothing under her but my mouth.

“Soren— your tongue— it’s too much, I can’t⁠⁠—”

She can take it. I curl my tongue deeper and keep working her. Her thighs clamp against my head, her heels drum my wings, and she comes wailing at the ceiling of our cabin.

I don’t stop. I drink everything she gives me and curl into that swollen spot inside her while her hands beat the mattress. Her thighs shake around my ears, and her begging turns into noise.

“Soren— Soren, I— again, I’m⁠⁠—”