A Soul to Revive (Duskwalker Brides, #5)

Emerie threw her arm over her face as her back bowed. The other one shot down so she could palm the curve of his beak, gripping it so she could hold on as her hips tilted back and forth.

And, little by little, her dress rode up until her little shallow navel was exposed. He’d never seen the dipping plane of her stomach before, and the fact she was so lost to her pleasure because of his tongue, had him falling deeper into his own.

Giving was just as exciting as receiving, but that may have been because he was stealing her sweet nectar in return.

His tongue wiggled inside her, discovering and licking every part. When she didn’t come for him like he wanted, just squirmed and bucked with high-pitched but quiet cries, he slipped two fingers between the inner walls of her deliciously soft pussy and the underside of his thin tongue.

He took up more room, wanting her to feel his long and dexterous tongue more firmly against the places he’d already discovered were more tender.

“Ohhh, god,” she moaned, her thighs spreading as her feet lifted off the ground. She gave in when he twisted his hand so his knuckles were facing downward, and he added a third finger. “Ingram!”

The snarl that came from him was one of utter satisfaction.

Her stretched cunt not only clamped his fingers and tongue as she came, but sucked on them like she wanted to swallow him deeper into her depths. Ingram stole every little drop, greedy and hungry for it, wetting his dry throat with her tangy taste.

The sight of her coming from him like this was beautiful. She fluttered like he wanted her to, her hair moving in rivers as she tossed her head. One moment her thighs and calves tried to squish his beak and skull, the next they parted as her back arched in waves.

So pretty. So arousing. So perfect.

And when she was done crying out for him, he slipped his fingers from her and took back his tongue. He gently buried his beak into her instead, so he could carry her scent on it permanently, and he could breathe her in for as long as it lingered. He even wiggled his head subtly.

He’d almost, almost, messed up when he pulled it out and had been about to lick it off so he could taste just another drop more.

She was so languid and dizzy from her own pleasure that, when he grabbed her knees and yanked her closer, she didn’t do anything but lay there. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes barely open, and her lips stayed parted on shaking huffs.

That was until he ground the head of his cock up through her pretty pink folds and all the way down him. She moaned, as did he, while he stared at her exposed abdomen.

When he’d tugged her closer, the weight of her on her dress had gotten it caught. It was crumpled just underneath her breasts, so close to giving him the naughty peek at her chest he was craving.

Emerie looked down and pushed against his stomach when his tentacles circled around her thighs.

He grabbed both her hands and wrapped them around the head of his cock to help stroke him, as well as show her what he was intending. He kept his left palm around both of hers and fucked his cock into their tangled hands. The underside of his erection stroked where he desperately wanted to sink inside of, and he let the wetness, softness, and heat of her pussy soothe him.

If this was all he could take right now, then he would take it. His cock was hard, and it throbbed with such a profound ache after tasting, teasing, and watching her, he knew he was about to lose his mind.

Already his embedded seed sacs clenched hard, threatening to make him spill. He was close from his own excitement pushing him along without assistance.

With his free hand, he dipped it underneath her dress to hold her left breast. He didn’t know if he was playing with it right, if it felt good for her, but it was divine in his palm. So soft and jiggly as he bounced her with his hips. So much fun to play with.

Ingram’s head tilted back all the way until he was looking up at the tent’s ceiling.

“Emerie,” he groaned, his hips twitching as he thrust. He could feel her clit moving back and forth inside his groove, and he never thought something so small could feel so wonderful.

The fact that she seemed to like it there, her wicked mouth letting out sharp, hitching sounds, made it all the better.

His panted, Emerie-slick-stained breaths grew sharper, more frantic. I want inside her. I want to feel her around me as I come. It would feel amazing – he just knew it. So warm and blissful as she held him within her.

Like every time he was about to spend, agony and ecstasy clutched at his groin like two sets of claws. He thrust harder, faster, pitifully seeking its soul-stealing, mind-shattering end.

It was like his first rope of seed crawled up his cock rather than shooting out like the rest that followed.

So close. Why did it have to feel like forever? Please... I need release. He didn’t know who he was begging; he didn’t care so long as they saved him. Hurts so badly.

She whispered little moans for him, like his thrusting against her clit felt as good for her as it did for him.

Her soft palms trapped between his big fist felt divine around the head and rim of his cock. He squeezed tighter, needing more pressure even as he worried about crushing her delicate fingers. Even more so when he let out a roaring groan as his body finally gave in to his feverish movements.

With shorter, twitching, wet pumps, he came into both their hands. Ingram shuddered, his sight going dark, as he let euphoria take hold and set his spirit alight.

His beak parted further and further, and he trembled with each hard spurt. He only looked down when the worst of them had eased the pressure and tension within him.

He found Emerie with her eyes wide and glued to their hands as he drained hot liquid into them. By the end, he’d drenched them both, and his thrusting had created the tiniest gap for a single burst to shoot up her torso.

When he was done, his vision pulsing from his satisfaction, he released his fist.

With her lips parted, she gaped at her seed-soaked hands. The liquid webbed as it clung to itself, to her, to his fist and cock.

In a visceral, feral need, he pushed her hands against her own stomach until he’d marked her with his fluids all the way to her crumpled dress sitting just underneath her mounds.

Then he removed his hand from her breast, pressed it against the ground near her shoulder, and leaned over her. With his seed-covered hand, he cupped the side of her face and drew a wet line across her pale-pink lips.

“Did I hurt you?” he grated, his voice hoarse and croaked.

“No.”

He dipped his thumb inside her mouth so he could coat her tongue with his taste. She flinched at first, but then sucked on it, claw and all, and a jolting thrill shot through him.

“Good,” he answered, hoping that meant next time she would welcome him inside her.

For now... he just wanted to play with his seed and spread it all over her. Mark her, as the other Mavka had marked their females. To keep them away, to keep everything away, or it would face the wrath of his claws.