Page 44 of Collected By the Crow

His bottom hands rested on her bent knees, their touch light but for his nails grazing her skin. His top arms were bent at the elbow, hands behind his head, making his biceps look even more impressive. He was an absolute snack. Instead of his insecurity, he had every right to be arrogant and self-absorbed.

Cass pinched her nipples, tossing her head back slightly, putting on a show for her beast. It would take time for them to learn each other’s bodies and how those bodies played together, and more time for her to convince him of his beauty, but now was a good place to start.

She played with herself as sultrily as she could, feeling only a little silly, but the heat of his gaze was encouraging. She took his lower left hand and brought it to her mouth, sucking on it as she would his cock, while she rubbed around her hardened clit with her free hand.

After a few moments of this, his cock twitched inside her. It was stiff enough now that she flattened her palms on the mattress for support as she traveled tip to base and back. Every time he bottomed out inside her, she ground her clit against his ridged skin. As the pressure grew, she gripped the feathers on his shoulders like they were the only thing holding her upright. Her mind blanked as her nervous system shut down. She nearly fell on top of him, his name tumbling incoherently from her lips.

Like it was second nature, Qadaire’s four arms flew to her hips and waist, where he held her completely still and fucked up into her limp body. Her orgasm shattered her from the inside out like she was a dropped beaker, all of her contents spilled out.

“Cassandra,” Qadaire all but whimpered her name before coming undone inside her again.

She collapsed on top of him, where they breathed hard for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms. When she felt she might be able to walk to the bathroom without wobbling like a Russian nesting doll, she propped herself on one elbow.

“Shall we take a shower?” she asked between kisses she peppered along his brow.

“Together?”

“Obviously.” She giggled. Before she could climb from him, he maneuvered them from the bed without removing himself from her. Probably smart, since she had two massive loads of come inside her.

She was still in awe of how huge this master bath was, and that he had rigged up his own plumbing. After seeing the greenhouse, she believed he could do just about anything.

The corner bath and shower were easily the size of her closet. The rim was wide enough to be a bench, which was perfect for what she had in mind. She slid from Qadaire’s grasp, a flood of thick white come dripping from her ruined pussy. She adjusted the faucet to a nice warmth and cleaned her legs. When she turned toward him, she stifled a thrilled smirk at his already re-stiffened cock.

Qadaire must have gotten the wrong impression from her look because his body language shifted in a way that hid his lower half from view. Her heart panged with sadness for all the negative thoughts he harbored about himself. It was time to nip those thoughts in the bud.

She reached for his bottom set of hands and turned him into the water. Then she slid her hands around his waist, over the downy feathers on his backside, and playfully squeezed his ass cheeks. He jerked back at her touch and she giggled, smiling up at his tentative glare.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Qadaire.” She claimed his mouth before he could contradict her.

His shoulders released some of their tension, his strong arms encasing her until they melded into one. She loved how he made her feel, so safe and petite. She broke their kiss and pushed on him lightly until his back was against the wall, those beautiful wings clinging wetly to the wall.

“You aren’t an abomination.” She kissed his neck, his earlobe, his jaw, while roaming her hands down the planes of his toned abdomen. “You’re not deformed.” She drifted her touch lower, over his cloaca, tracing the V of his hips where smooth planes of skin met downy feathers. She kissed his shoulders, his biceps, his nipples.

“What are you doing?”

She lowered herself onto the ledge, guiding his hips to turn with her. She kissed the same route down as her hands had taken. When she reached his cloaca, she peered up at him seductively, her hands fisted in the feathers on his hips.

“I’m worshiping you.” She ran her tongue over the ridges of the puckered skin softly, a caress. A promise. He pierced her with a dark look full of heady desire and trepidation. Before she could lick him again, his bottom right hand weaved in her hair and tugged her away.

“But why?”

“Because you deserve it.”

With that, she surged forward, not caring that his fistful of hair burned her scalp. The guttural sound that emanated from him was more than encouraging. She could only assume he’d never had this part of him touched, let alone played with like an erogenous zone. She tilted her head to glimpse what it was doing to him. His left hands were fisted where he leaned heavily on the shower wall. His upper right remained on the back of her head, and when he reached for his cock with his free hand, she intercepted, placing it on her breast instead.

“Let me take care of you,” she crooned as she licked her lips to taste the salty-sweet liquid that seeped from every dip of his vent.

“Cassandra.”

“Mmm?” she murmured, ignoring his impatient tone.

She laved her tongue over the bumpy surface again, then used her tongue to coat his cock with its lubricant, and her saliva. With a carnal growl, he pinched her nipple hard enough to make her squeal. She took his cock in her hand and slipped the tip into her mouth, continuing to caress and tease his vent with her free hand.

“Cassandra!”

If her mouth weren’t so full of his cock, she would’ve laughed at his urgent tone. Instead, she hummed around the mouthful and bobbed her head, pushing his length to the back of her throat. Steadying his cock with one hand, she came off of him with a pop, then lathered his shaft with his lubricant and proceeded to suck it right off.

She realized she’d been rolling her hips over the cool rim of the bath, which brought to mind the image of him humping the bench, and she giggled.

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