Page 20 of Collected By the Crow

He tugged her jeans down enough to fit a hand inside. Over her panties, he rubbed her slit until she felt the slickness of the fabric slipping under his finger. She panted against his shoulder, wanting more, wanting to touch him, too. But when she slipped from his neck and reached for his waistband, he growled like a predatory beast and pinned her wrist above her on the wall. He slid her panties to the side and pressed the pad of one finger against her opening, trailing it through her parted labia, all the way up to her clit.

“Qadaire,” she breathed, her free hand bunching into his feathers. He snatched her other wrist and held it up too, forcing her body to curve into him. More of those soft sounds poured from his lips, their sweetness juxtaposed by his gruffness.

“Let go, Cassandra.”

His finger dipped inside her then, but whatever noises she made were too far away for her ears to perceive. His thumb circled her bud, another finger pressing inside. She tried to writhe, but his godforsaken arms were everywhere, and one held her waist firmly in place. Another slipped up her shirt and under the wire of her bra, kneading her breast before squeezing and twirling her beaded nipple.

“I can’t!” she begged breathlessly. “Please.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. His eyes were black and red, a primal hunger leaking from his pupils. He swirled his thumb and fucked her with his fingers as a wolfish smile split his face in two. If he’d been boyishly handsome before, he was devilishly so now, his voice dripping with sensual confidence.

“You can. There’s nothing else you need to do right now. Let go. Come for me, little dewdrop.”

Chapter Eleven

Qadaire

Qadaire had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted to be the sole cause and audience of her orgasm.

His bump swelled above his already weeping cock. It took every cell in his body to refrain from wrapping her hand around his length. Aside from the shame of his extra deformity, he had no doubt that her silken fingers would make him come the moment they wrapped around him. He didn’t need to come nearly as badly as he needed her to.

“Qadaire.” She sounded frustrated. Why was she so resistant? It was like she thought letting her guard down for one second would result in the world catching fire.

The intensity of his growl startled him. He yanked her shirt and bra up, freeing her heavy breasts. He hungrily captured one in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the pearl. She moaned and writhed against his hand. He curved his longest finger inside of her, massaging the drenched walls of her cunt. He loosened his hold on her waist and leaned heavily into his palm on the wall to let her fuck herself on his fingers. He switched breasts, bringing his lower left to pinch her extended nipple, still wet with his saliva.

“Oooh, Qadaire. Yes, yes.”

Nine rings, his name sounded much better in that cadence. Centuries out of practice, he relied on her reactions to guide him. He remained studious, and when he discovered the way she squirmed when he curled his fingers from this angle, he massaged her that way for a while.

He skimmed the flesh of her breast with his fangs, then sucked hard until a healthy portion of meat filled his mouth, rubbing his coarse tongue over the bud. He sucked with the same fervor that was required to bring gulps of blood to his throat. He kept up the pressure on her clit and rapidly increased the speed of his fingers, challenging his super speed to create a vibration effect.

Her incoherent mewling and drooping stance warned him of her orgasm. When it came, his fingers were cinched by her perfect cunt over and over. He watched her face, the utter vulnerability there more fulfilling than any scientific revelation. She was so pure, so unguarded. This was the real her.

He could get addicted to this.

His balls craved a draining. He leaked in his trousers. Whatever had been building ever since his cock was awakened by her presence, exacerbated by those damned videos, crested with nowhere to go. He didn’t care. He would have to clean himself up later.

As the last waves of Cassandra’s orgasm pulsed between them, he laid his head in the crook of her neck and removed his hand from her pants. The incredible scent of her slick desire was impossible to ignore. He straightened and brought his fingers to his mouth, vaguely aware of her watching him. The savory taste, the texture of her, it was magnificent. His shudder ruffled his feathers. He spread his fingers and licked between them, too, eyes drifting closed in delight.

He pulled her shirt down and situated her bra the way it had been while she refastened her jeans. She swung her arms around his neck and leaned in, her breath warm on his lips.

He forced himself to back away.

She smiled at him almost shyly, nothing like the cunning grin he was used to. He relished it, knowing it may be the only time he saw her without a brave face. It didn’t last long enough. There was a soft buzzing sound, then she produced her phone. Whatever she found there shook her. She pushed past him and cursed under her breath.

“What is it?” He held his lower hands awkwardly over his groin, knowing the two distinct spots of liquid would be visible if she glanced down.

“It’s mutated already.” Her lips pursed like she’d sucked on a lemon. “Fuck! This is exactly why I can’t get distracted.”

“Not true.” He persisted through her dead-eyed stare. “This would’ve happened regardless of if you’d been worrying about it or not.”

She sighed and sank into a chair. Her sweet scent clouded like fossil fuels in the summer sky. Qadaire couldn’t stand it. He dropped to one knee and cupped her face with two hands, the other two lightly resting on her squeezable thighs.

“You’re right.”

“We’ll solve this. Together.”

“I know. I just feel so empty all the time lately." She sighed and swiped at her cheeks. “I need to take Zero’s samples and get to the lab.”

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