Page 41 of Monsters After Dark

His hand moves from my ankle, and I whimper, missing his touch. He stands tall, straightening to his full height, head skimming the ceiling of my little country cottage. His chest heaves, broad shoulders rising as he draws in a deep breath. He moans, low and resonant, for my monster loves my scent.

His eyes shine in the darkness, meeting mine. There is nothing human about his features, shaggy fur, claws, and sharp teeth, but my fingers still clench as I anticipate petting the silken fur at the side of his snout.

My breath stutters as I feel the slightest tug on my covers before he draws them slowly off. He takes his time about this. My monster is never rushed. Slow increments see the heavy quilt drawn from my body, until finally it hits the floor with a soft thud. The cool night air finds my heated skin. My fidgeting has rucked up my nightgown a little, and between my thighs, I feel an unmistakable dampness as my body prepares for him.

“I can scent you, little maiden. Creaming for your monster, sweet pussy growing slick. Do you want your monster to taste you?”

“Yes,” I say, arching up on the bed. My hands lower to my nightgown, and I dare to lift it a little way. He growls, and my hands immediately drop.

“No,” he rumbles. “I will not attend to your needy little pussy yet. Tonight, I believe I will need to spend a great deal of time feasting on your pretty tits. Now open those silken ribbons at your throat and show me what is mine.”

My hands shake as I reach for the ribbons at my throat. The neat little bows come loose one by one until my nightgown is opened all the way to my waist. My chest rises and falls unsteadily, and I bite my lower lip to keep my whimpers in. If I do anything he perceives as intended to hurry him, he will assuredly go slower still.

“Good girl,” he says. “Now part the material so that I may see your pretty tits.”

My fingers shake so badly I can barely grasp the material. Fighting against my nature to rip it away, slowly, so slowly, I draw the edges apart. His deep purr is one of approval. The material feels unbearably coarse against my sensitive breasts, although it is the softest brush cotton I could find.

The air shifts as he lowers himself onto the bed, setting it creaking under his great weight. When he first awakens, his presence is like a tickling breeze. But as he solidifies into being, he has a delicious heaviness that I delight to feel pressing down over me.

Another deep, grumbly purr accompanies him nuzzling against the side of my breast. The fur tickles just before I feel the first lap of his coarse tongue. He lavishes attention all over the plump mound. Warm, wet, lashes of his tongue are followed by little nibbles that send butterflies to flight low in my belly. My fingers grasp on the bedding beside me, lest I break the spell and try to touch. Touching is forbidden until my monster gives me permission.

The faint scrape of a nail accompanies his ravishment of my breasts, but when I let out my groan of pleasure, he immediately stops.

“What a naughty little maiden,” he teases in a raspy purr, snout tickling my skin as he moves upwards toward my throat. “Now your monster must start all over again.”

And he does, driving me to the point of desperation one searing lick at a time, generously attends to both breasts, my throat, and the sensitive skin behind my ear until I am shuddering with delectable tension, desperate, and aching for his penetration.

A whimper escapes my tightly sealed lips as his nibbling takes him closer to the stiff peak that craves his touch. His rich, musky scent saturates my every breath, and as it draws into my lungs, it ignites a fluttering sensation in my belly, womb, breasts, and all the way to my heart.

My deep moan accompanies the first hot rasp of his tongue across my nipple. He pauses to nudge it with his nose before flicking his tongue over it again. It tightens, sensitive nerves flaring to life. Then he closes his beastly lips around it and gently sucks.

I twitch with pleasure. His head lifts, and dark eyes gaze down upon me through the gloom. He waits patiently as I gather my wits and remind myself to be still. Once I am settled, he begins his torment again.

On and on, it continues, drawing me higher, lifting me up until the time between my twitching and his tending grows unbearably long. “Please,” I plead. I do not mean to, for I know it will only worsen this torture, but I do, mumbled nonsense pouring from my lips, for I am insensible to everything but my needs.

“My maiden is very naughty tonight,” my monster says, voice a husky drawl as he nibbles up the side of my throat.

Between my thighs is slick and ready for him to fill me, aching from the emptiness.

“Do you need your monster’s cock?” he asks, his nose against my ear.

“Yes, please, yes. I need you. I’m so empty inside. Please fill me.”

“My needs are also great tonight, little maiden. Do you feel my hands trembling?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“You know what happens when I am like this, little maiden. I fear I will have no option but to be quite rough with you.” He nips gently at my throat, his claw-tipped thumb and fingers squeezing and tugging my distended nipple as if to emphasize this point.

“Please!”

“Hush, love. Let your monster have his pleasure. I must taste you before I can fill you deeply with my cock.”

Another sharp tug upon my nipple draws a needy whimper from my lips.

“You need to be thoroughly prepared when I am in my most beastly and depraved of moods. I can scent your sweet pussy. My maiden is weeping encouragement for her monster to feast.”

His snout lowers, nibbling a path down my body, pausing to tease my sore breasts, to squeeze, nibble, and lap them with his rough tongue. Finally he moves on, over my belly, hips, and belly again, before snuffling the nest of curls that hide my feminine place.

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