Page 34 of Bitten By the Basilisk

She managed not to laugh as she took a sip of water. “I would love to admire it sometime.”

His smile dimmed. “I would show you now, but my kind has an annual mating season that will soon peak. This time of year, my instincts are more…difficult to control, especially when the moon is out.”

Though his admission made heat swell in her core, her intuition told her his reluctance stemmed from genuine concern. “What instincts are those?”

“The territorial kind.” His gaze bored into her. She glanced down at his lap, saw the outline of his cock head pressing firmly upward, tenting his sweats.

So he was more dominating than usual? “You make that sound bad.”

“Because I would break you,” he said tightly. “You would be nothing more than a toy for me to slake my lusts upon.”

She swallowed, his words as much as his tone making her clamp her thighs together in an attempt to ease the ache throbbing between her legs.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose, briefly closing his eyes. When they opened again, his gaze was as hot as the blood pumping through her veins. He slowly slid off his seat. “I can smell your desire, kitten. Wet again already?”

Whimpering, she twisted her seat toward him as if to ward him off, yet the touch of fear he’d instilled in her elevated her excitement, like speeding on the back of a motorcycle, or like a sprinkle of salt on chocolate.

He took hold of her knees and yanked her to the very edge of her seat, the barstool scraping the floor as it shifted a few inches. She flailed for the counter next to her and managed to knock her fork to the floor, but Silas pushed her knees apart as if he either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care, his breaths turning ragged.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me?” He stepped between her thighs, holding one knee in the crook of his elbow and propping her other leg against his shoulder. “You know what it does to see you in my shirt, no panties, eating the food I prepared, getting wet at the thought of being ravished by a monster in rut?”

With his free hand, he hastily shoved down the front of his sweats, pulled out his cock, and rubbed it up and down her slit.

She let out a desperate moan, more than ready to feel him deep inside but lacking the leverage to make it happen, one hand clinging to the edge of the counter, her other arm fully bent to grip the low seat back she leaned upon.

“H-how would it be any different from this?” Her question ended on a wanton gasp, as he had notched the head of his cock at her entrance. He wedged it through, stretching her entrance wider, then leaned over her, pushing her knees back, and clamped her seat in both hands.

He released a ragged groan to match hers, sinking deeper, filling her with hot, hard flesh. She let go of the seat back to grasp his arm, the muscles beneath firm in her grip.

“How would it be different?” he repeated between harsh gulps of air. “You would become little better than prey. Time would cease to have meaning. Your reality would encompass only sensation. Only me and my attentions. The air in your lungs. The bed beneath your back. Our mating would not end until my seed gushed from your well-used holes.”

The base of his cock stretched her entrance, the head jammed tight against her womb. He firmly bucked his hips, sending a riot of tingles through her core, his grip on her chair keeping it rock-steady.

She cried out, her thighs already trembling, head spinning. She would close her eyes, but the way he stared down at her—eyebrows tightly pinched, gaze molten—kept them half open.

Then his cock began to vibrate, and everything blurred. He swung his hips against her, abrading her clit and the walls of her sex with his slick, buzzing shaft, hitting a spot deep inside her with firm jabs. Carnal sounds eked from her throat.

The fabric of her shirt became tight across her chest, as though something were pulling it, and the collar widened over her shoulder. Silas’s every thrust rocked her backward, making her tits shift beneath the taut, silky material.

She realized he was snagging the hem where it lay next to his hand, then anchoring it in his grip upon the barstool, each time grasping more and more of its length. Her hardened nipples rasped the glossy fabric every time he pumped his hips against her.

Her lover groaned, the shirt becoming even tighter, the collar stretching around her shoulder and down her chest.

Then a particularly firm thrust bounced her hard enough that one of her breasts escaped the collar of her shirt. Silas groaned again, louder, the sound as much as the wantonness of her position launching her over the edge.

Pleasure rolled over her like a crashing wave, forcing her head back, its position turning her loud cry into a strangled one. Heat spilled from her clenching sex. She squeezed his arm tight, vaguely aware her nails were digging into his skin, her back straining as she arched it involuntarily.

“Fuck, you come so pretty,” he growled.

He used her hard then, slamming his cock deep, each thrust pumping more slick from her to drip upon the floor. She could do nothing but take it, paralyzed by pleasure so intense it was nigh suffocating. The barstool did not move, but it was not silent, its feet grinding against the unglazed tile, the wet slap of their bodies accompanied by his constant, ragged groans.

“Keep coming, kitten. Keep coming on this cock.”

She had no other choice, clinging to his arms, gasping desperately for air, her legs shaking violently. Only when he held himself deep and flooded her with heat, growling as if in pain, did her climax finally release her, although the aftermath was its own kind of torment as his cock continued to vibrate in short pulses, each one making her twitch with another aftershock of pleasure.

He withdrew from her gently, then passed her straightened leg to his other side to hook both her knees over his arm. Her shirt, now slack, once again covered her chest. With effort, she raised her head and cracked her eyelids open, her heart still hammering.

As he lifted her into a bridal carry, the look on his face could only be described as devoted. Exhilarated, she loosely draped her arms around his shoulders, certain his arm against her back would keep her snugly in his hold. They shared a kiss, the room moving around her as Silas carried her toward the front hall.