Page 154 of Born for Lace

“You’re asleep,” I scold.

“Then stop answering back.”

I beam—is this us?

Can we be…playful?

Is this the man he is beneath the Shadow, apart from the Rogue? The one that only rears up when he is alone with me, in the dark, where he can be himself, open and vulnerable.

I’ll protect your heart, Lagos.

His fingers slide into my hair, cupping the back of my head and curling around red strands, gentle but dominant.

“Careful, little flower,” he warns, stroking my scalp while I lick again and again, my tongue tracing the slit over the bulbous crown. “Mm.Fuck. Your silly, little tongue does things to me.”

A big hand palms the back of my head, not controlling me but still an authority in the moment.

In every moment.

With my lips and mouth, I explore his smooth skin, the way it stretches around his blood-filled dick, almost like elastic.

Nervously, I flutter my tongue over a throbbing vein. I’m so gentle; I wonder if he can even feel what I’m doing.

“Do you like that?” I breathe.

“Thought I was asleep.”

“Brute,” I complain.

“How could I not like you licking my cock as if you’re afraid of it, little flower?”

His fingers continue to circle restlessly in my hair, sending shivers down my spine and lifting hairs across my skin. Sliding over him more, I mouth the warm head, sucking it in and popping it out again.

“Things you like…” I giggle, gaining more confidence from his heavy breathing, and lap all the way, slowly from base to slit, along the lengthy, throbbing underside. When I get to the base again, curiosity draws my tongue down over his heavy balls.

“Fuck…”he groans, free hand grabbing the root of his dick as I mouth his balls, tasting skin and salt and something so deeply… male.

Licking, too eager to be methodical, I enjoy him. The way his body responds, tastes, the instinctive contracting of his thighs, and pulsing of his veins.

Jerking his hand up and down, he squeezes, the head flushing as he strokes himself, seeming to draw blood from the root to the crown.

Groaning, he shudders and palms the back of my head. His breaths become heavier. Abdominals crunch together, and thighs tighten.

He is close, hand flying over his dick. More fluid leaks from the tip. His big balls respond to my tongue, the smooth skin bunching and shrinking against my soft, warm attention.

I try not to smile, feeling pride swell in my chest. I make him feel good. Soothe him.Relieve him.

The deep weeping place between my legs clenches, and my pelvis lifts, just waiting for him to explode.

Then he does.

Deep, inhuman growls seem to start low in his abdomen, then crawl up his throat, rumbling the entire way until white fluid projects upward, lashing my cheeks, lips, and his thighs.

“Fuck,yes. Such a—” He groans. “Such a good little flower.”

My eyes roll back, pleasure a hazy blanket over my vision. When he comes apart—body so thick and powerful, bulking and throbbing in such a way—every female muscle inside me squeezes.

No more than a few laboured breaths later, Lagos sits up and takes hold of me, twisting me until my back meets the mattress.

---