Fire in His Blood

And then, because I’m curious, I lean in to taste him.

Warmth bursts on my tongue at the same time I hear his ragged intake of breath. I’m not prepared for the sweet spice of his flavor. I’ve been around the block a few times, and I don’t remember a blow job tasting anything like this. Kael’s spicy scent seems to be magnified a thousand times in the taste of him, and it’s delicious and addicting.

Unfair that he should taste so good. It would be so much easier to push him away whenever he wanted to touch me if he sucked at sex, had a tiny dick, and tasted bleachy and unpleasant.

I can’t help my little exclamation of delight, and I wrap my hand around his length again. I need to stop. Heck, I need to calm the fuck down. I want to be the one giving pleasure, because I don’t want to have sex with him again. Maybe I can make him so addicted to blowjobs that he’ll never have to bite his way through an orgasm again. If he tastes like this, I can live with that, and quite happily, too. I drag my tongue over the head of his cock, lapping up the beads of liquid there. And I clench my thighs tightly together, because I don’t want him to smell how aroused this is making me.

I need to remain firmly in charge. If I don’t, I’m going to be thrown down on this floor and fucked, just like before. And just like before, he’s going to scare and hurt me.

So I focus on making him come and come fast. Tell me what you like, I send to him, testing out our mental bond even as I let my lips explore his length.

Everything, comes the ragged reply. Everything you do to me, I like.

You taste really good, I tell him, and drag my tongue along a thick vein on his cock. I might have to do this more often. It’s the truth—I’m loving the spicy, almost peppery taste of his pre-cum. I’m loving the hot feel of his skin against mine. He’s so big my fingers can’t quite wrap around him all the way, and long enough that I know I’m never going to be able to take all of him in my mouth. His skin is dappled with the scaly pattern here, and ridged along the underside of the crown of his cock to the point that I wonder if they’re still scales, but just smaller and tighter together. I explore all of him with my tongue, even the heat of his sac. He’s completely hairless everywhere, but when I drag my tongue over the soft skin there, I feel a striated sort of resistance, like scales.

And I can feel it in my mind when he groans, shocked with pleasure. Claudia. Your mouth. You will make me spill.

That’s the idea, big guy, I send back, and kiss my way back to the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue over it and then pull him in, feeding his big length into the hot well of my mouth. I can feel his shocked reaction, and then he sends a visual to my mind of him pushing his cock into me, inch by slow inch, and the ecstasy on my face as he does.

A moan escapes me. That is so not fair. He holds himself so still that if it wasn’t for our mental link, I wouldn’t know if he was enjoying this at all. Time to play a little unfair myself.

So I continue to blow him, taking him as deep as I dare and tightening the suction as I stroke him back and forth over my tongue, trying to shuttle him like he’s fucking my mouth. I send visuals of my own, too. Of him putting his hands into my hair and twisting his fingers in the red curls of it. Of him guiding my head, pushing me to take more and more of him, deeper and deeper. Of him fucking my mouth with rocking motions of his hips, and me loving it so much that I slide a hand between my thighs and begin to touch myself—

I can hear his muffled gasp, can feel the moment that his control breaks. The low growl starts in his throat again, but I’m not afraid. He’s here in this moment with me. I can feel the connection between us, and when one big hand palms my head, I feel nothing but excitement. Yes. Yes. Feed me your cock. Fuck my mouth like you would my cunt. I’m so turned on by my own visuals that I’m squirming on the floor, unable to sit still.

I’m in the moment with him as he guides my head, fucking my mouth with big, sure strokes. I feel the prick of his claws against my scalp, but I’m unafraid. It just adds to the edge of excitement, and when his movements become jerky and spasmodic, his breath more rasping, I’m encouraging him to lose control. Spill, I demand. Let me taste you. I want to feel you come in my mouth. And I send to him filthy visuals that leave no doubt as to what I’m thinking.

He comes with a groan, and his body shakes. My mind fills with an explosion of pleasure, and I’m surprised by it, as well as the sudden burst of spicy come in my mouth. I struggle to drink all of him down, but there’s more volume than I anticipated, and by the time his eyes open a slit, I’m wiping dribbles off my chin, which only gives him more satisfaction. I sense it pulsing in my mind.

My mate, he practically purrs in my head.

I don’t say anything to that, just wipe at my lips. I’m exhausted and achy from the mental battering of our thoughts melding together, but it almost feels like I came, too. The achy wetness between my thighs tells me otherwise, but I can live with that.

Breathing hard, Kael pulls me to my feet. He tugs me against him, and his mouth claims mine again in a fierce kiss that tells me he’s not quite done, not just yet. And I’m full of need, but at the same time, that’s as far as I want to go for now. The blowjob was so he wouldn’t want sex, not an appetizer for the main course.

So I push away, putting a hand to his chest. “No. Wait.”

He pulls away. Of course he does. He always pulls away when I say no. He leans in and simply brushes his lips against mine. I like tasting you. Can I do that? When I nod, he kisses my mouth again. Do humans do this much? Press mouth to mouth?

I can feel myself blushing, for some reason, as if I worry my explanation will seem silly to him and he won’t want to do it anymore. I’d be sad if we stopped kissing, I think. He does it exceptionally well. “It’s a sign of affection between mates,” I tell him. That seems like the easiest explanation for it.

So when you pressed your mouth to me, you were accepting me as your mate? Satisfaction wafts through his thoughts.

Oh dear. “Not quite. People kiss just to try out their partner. It doesn’t always mean that you’ll take someone as a mate.”

He growls low in his throat, jaw hardening as he gazes down at me. Have you done this ‘kiss’ to many humans?

“Not many,” I admit. When he looks displeased still, I give his chest a little push. “Quit being so possessive.”