Page 14 of Howl for the Gargoyle

I recalled the layout of the apartment we'd barely explored and headed for the closest destination. My fingers tightened on her ass as I carried her out of the kitchen and into the living room, and she bucked in my arms.

My shins hit the edge of the huge cushioned whatever-the-fuck-it-was in the center of the living room. Sex ottoman, probably, and one specifically designed for exactly this moment. I bent, and she released me, falling back into the cushions, hands immediately flying to the waist of her pants.

"Undress," she gasped, focusing on her own clothes.

But I wanted to watch. I wanted to tease her until she tore more of my clothes off. She was dressed like one of the downtown business crowd, all in well-tailored black, but I caught a glimpse of vivid raspberry lace as she shoved her underwear down, kicking the tangle of clothes off with her short boots. Her pussy was on display for me, a tidy trim of dark hair at the peak of mile-long lithe legs.

She paused as the heel of her boot thunked against the floor, huffing and sweeping her hair back.

"It's my turn to look," I said, knowing it would antagonize her, wanting to draw her out.

Discovering I was wrong, once more.

Her eyes rolled, and she leaned back against the upward wave of a cushion, spreading her knees apart. "Fine. Look."

The lips of her pussy were dark rose and slightly swollen, stretched just enough to give me a glimpse of darker, sweeter fruit. Would she let me…

One slender foot stroked the outside of my thigh as I stared, and I chuckled, reaching for my own belt. She reached for the buttons of her blouse as I stripped, peeling away her shirt to reveal a lace bra in that same shade of rosy red. Her breasts were small, dark nipples full and round behind the lace. There was a flush staining her chest, matching the twin spots high on her cheeks, but there was no proof of embarrassment in her expression otherwise.

I stood before her, naked, and let her look her fill. Her head tipped, resting on the knuckles of her hand.

"Are all gargoyles so perfect?" she asked, but she was reaching for me, and I wasn't inclined to tell her that I was on the shabbier end of the gargoyle scale.

Her claws were back, scratching against my hip, dragging me down to kneel between those long legs. I braced one hand above her shoulder, and here in the center of the room my wings were able to relax and stretch for the first time. Her eyes watched them over my shoulder and I used her distraction, poising myself at her entrance.

Her breath hitched at the brief kiss of cold stone, eyes widening and flicking to mine. I pushed, and her eyes fell shut on a moan. Her nails dug against my hips, and she guided as I let my weight sink me in, hissing against the heat of her.

A soft snarl vibrated in her throat as her hips lifted to meet mine, her head falling back.

"Fuck," she breathed out.

She was slick and scorching and already starting to squeeze around me.

I watched from above, slowing the forward drive of my hips to savor the moment. The taut and stretched shape of her, back cresting over the rise of the cushion, breasts now displaying tight tips pressing into the bright lace of her bra, long arms and legs splayed and tense, muscles coiling. It wasn't a view I'd often get of my clients and I held my breath, afraid to break the moment, knowing she'd steal the reins back from me.

Wet, hot lips kissed the base of my cock, my body nestled against hers, and her head lifted again, eyes bright and wild.

"What the fuck is with your magic cock?" she gasped.

I barked out a laugh, not expecting the question, and drew out a few inches, her gaze dropping and then growing huge, staring at the textured flesh, raised and swollen scars drawing vines around my length.

"We carve our stone when we come of age," I explained. "It's tradition."

Her mouth hung open, and a cry of pleasure fell loose as I thrust in again.

"I'm glad you like it," I said, and the words were true.

She huffed, licking her lips, and I tensed, knowing what came next. Her smile was fanged and feral.

"'Like' is an understatement," she said before she snapped her arms around me and threw me sideways.

CHAPTER 6

Hannah

I was making a mental list of what MSA hadn't prepared me for.

No one had told me a gargoyle would be so damn pretty, the sight of a smile would make my brain dry up. No one mentioned carved dicks that teased you from the inside out. No one mentioned my partner would laugh and grin as I threw him to the side and rolled us until he was flat on his back with his wings spread. That I would sit on that delicious cock and find myself breathless and torn between trying to see how hard I had to scratch this perfect chest before I made marks, or licking every inch of flesh beneath me.

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