Page 146 of Heimlock

“Are you going to be good and cum for me?” I mutter, fixated on the way her breasts bounce. Capturing one in my mouth, I suck hard, then bite.

She releases a whimper. “Y-yes.”

“Prove it, Firefly.”

We’re both sweating from the heat of our bodies, and the sound is indecent. Her body tightens, and her breathing slows as she holds it. Her wings flare, illuminating to a stunning shade of orange.

“That’s it, cum for me, little fuck puppet,” I purr. “Make me happy.”

Kyrielle’s back arches as she lets out a salacious moan, cumming all over my cock. I moan with her, lost in the joy of it all.

Her body slows, and our breaths are jagged. My heart feels bruised from slamming into my sternum. This is the most alive I’ve ever felt in my life.

“So …” I consider my next words. “Does this mean you like the transportation program?”

She nuzzles my neck, her warm breath skittering across my chest. “I love it, Trinte. Thank you for that.”

Pressing a hand on her head and between her delicate shoulder blades to hug her closer, I say, “It’s the right thing to do.”

It takes a couple of minutes until we separate, turning to lie next to one another. I’m on my side, playing with her hair, as we stare at one another. I smile when her eyes flutter shut with sleep. She’s so beautiful; so perfect. The fact that we found one another is a miracle. And to reach this point? Where we’re happy and satisfied?

Nothing lasts forever.

Especially since I already made a choice sealing the potential for destruction.

We haven’t spoken about it, the Cairanin. I’ve assured her that I’ll be fine. But as I lay here, a sense of doom settles over me. Because my life has never been fine until now. And if there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s that the other wing is always waiting to drop.

57

Tonight is our first family dinner since, well, the last family dinner where Trinte and I argued about the damn chair.

We’re both a little nervous, mainly because it could be the final dinner. In two days, Trinte is doing the Cairanin. No matter how much he reassures me, I’m terrified for him. We just found one another; I don’t know what I’ll do if his dunghole father survives. I mean, I know what I’ll do — murder the Gleanscale patriarch.

But I hope it doesn’t come down to that.

Trinte holds my hand as we walk to Fynn’s door. We exchange nervous glances; I squeeze his hand in encouragement. When he opens the door, we’re met with the sound of laughter and soothing music.

“Hello?” he calls out as I close the door behind us.

“Mr. Trinte!” Joulian comes bounding out of the kitchen, flinging himself into the blue Dragon’s arms. Knowing how much Trinte has wanted a family, I watch his delighted expression with new appreciation.

“What am I, chopped liver?” I joke.

Joulian, already a few inches taller than me now, hugs me tight. “Aunt Kyri, Mom said you got hurt a few weeks ago?”

I flick my wings. “Good as new now. No need to worry.”

Teenage eyes assess me, then he grins. “Are you going to ask for a rematch?”

“You bet!” I laugh, flexing my biceps. I point at Trinte and whisper yell, “I should also challenge that one to a rematch, too. I almost whooped his ass.”

“You do understand I had to pull my punches, so I didn’t crush your skull, right?” Trinte drawls.

I stare at him. “What?”

Joulian looks between the two of us, enthralled. I walk around my nephew to stand toe to toe with the blue Dragon. “You did what?”

He peers down at me with an amused expression. “Kyrielle, I can shatter skulls with one punch. Ask Coach. I was simply trying not to kill you.”