Page 42 of Collected By the Crow

“How many times have you touched yourself to the thought of me?”

He scoffed. “It’s impossible to say.”

“How long did you pause between them, on average?”

“Sometimes days, sometimes minutes—oooh, dewdrop.”

“Mmm.” She kissed his eyelids until he opened them, meeting his hungry gaze with hers. “That’s nothing. I plan to be here all day. Maybe longer, if you’ll have me.”

She took that moment to roll her hips, coating his sack with her dew. The base of his spine tingled, tempting him to surrender to the bliss. He put his upper hands on the bed behind him and leaned into them heavily. His throbbing cock urged him to thrust into her hands. She circled him loosely, letting him fuck into those perfect, silken hands, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Does it feel the way you imagined?”

His jaw clenched. All he could grind out was a lackluster, “Better.”

She leaned above him and claimed his mouth with hers, delving her tongue inside. She licked the top of his mouth and pulled away, and he chased the kiss like a ravenous hatchling.

“What is it you’re always telling me?” She nipped his earlobe, then whispered, “Let go, Qadaire. There is nothing else that matters right now but this. My hands on your cock. Your body against mine. Let go.”

She started to move, rolling her entire body to an invisible beat. She pumped up and down with a sensual flow, switching her hands as they became coated with lubricant. Her hips ground over the base of his shaft, smearing her slickness all the way down to his sack.

“But I still owe you for winning.” He straightened, pulling her closer, their bodies slipping against each other in his juices. His lower hands traveled up her spine to the base of her neck, his upper right hand buried in her raven hair. “You found the potion.”

“Yes, you owe me.” Her grip tightened. “You owe me this. Stop denying yourself. You deserve this. You’re worthy. You’re enough. Now let it go and coat us both with your come, Qadaire.”

If he were capable of tears, perhaps they would have stung his eyes at her words. As it was, a different kind of dam broke.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cassandra

The space between their bodies was already slippery, but Cass didn’t slow. She had to make up for the times she hadn’t reciprocated, even though he’d told her he didn’t want her to. She had to show him that his needs were important, too, and that she honored him as much as he did her. The way she should’ve done, despite how he’d pushed her away. She kissed his ears, his neck, his jaw, sucking in pieces of his cool gray skin and caressing them with her tongue, until she felt the vein that traveled up his shaft pulse in her grip.

His steady stream was powerful enough that it hit her chin. She felt it spray against her neck, her chest, trickling between her breasts.

“Cassandra,” Qadaire whispered her name like a prayer. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“I know.” She couldn’t go back in time and shake herself silly. But she was here, and there was nowhere else she longed to be. “I’m here now.”

She brought her lips to his, and this time, there was no urgency. It was a lazy thing, their tongues dancing languidly, melting into each other like merging cells. He explored her tenderly, all four of his hands becoming acquainted with her body. She’d seen how fluid his dexterity was. It felt heavenly. She slid off his lap and chuckled when his warbles turned into whines.

“Lie down,” she commanded, and he obeyed. She knew her weight was no consequence to him, as he’d carried both her and Zero around the house at the same time. She knew he breathed, but it didn’t seem like he would squish beneath her weight. Their bodies were sticky and slick between them, but it wouldn’t make sense to clean up yet, not when she needed so direly to be filled by him.

His hands roamed the expanse of her back, ignoring nothing. She’d long embraced her body’s beauty and praised it for the things it allowed her to do. Still, she loved the way he really worshiped every bit of her, from stretch marks to birthmarks.

His bottom hands grazed over her hips, then lower, taking huge handfuls of her ass and squeezing, pulling apart, then smooshing together. She giggled and rose onto her elbows. She petted the feathers on his head and kissed him in that slow, exploratory fashion.

“I’m glad I followed the crows that day.”

“You really didn’t want to work with me.”

“No.” She laughed. “I didn’t.”

He smirked and tightened his hold on her, then tilted his hips, driving his textured bump against her pussy.

“Ooh, that felt good. Do that again.” She leaned her forehead against his, and he stole a swift kiss before grinding against her again. This time, she pushed her hips down, causing a deeper friction that made her walls flutter around nothing. His cock drove through the spot where her thigh attached to her pelvis, slippery with their mess. His stiffness had barely waned. It twitched beneath her. She rose onto her hands and wrested control, grinding against the ridges of his vent with more purpose. She needed him so badly that even the minute amount of pressure had the bundle of nerves in her belly begging for relief. “Oh fuck, Qadaire, I’m going to come again.”

He tipped their hips and pressed her pelvis harder against him, matching her every grind. Her parted folds slid over every ridge of his cloaca. It continued to leak, the spot between her thighs becoming saturated with both of their fluids. It was so wet that she slipped messily over him, lewd smacking noises filling the room.

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