Page 85 of Monster's Pretty Bride

I release her nipple with a final, lingering lick, my hands sliding down her body to grip her hips. My claws dig into her flesh, just enough to make her gasp, and I pull her closer, grinding against her. The friction is electric, her pussy pressing against my cock, and I growl low in my throat, the sound primal, possessive.

“Tell me what you want, Eryss,” I demand, my voice rough, my breath hot against her ear. “Tell me, or I’ll stop.”

Her eyes flash, a mix of defiance and desperation. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I smirk, pulling back slightly, my hands leaving her hips. “Try me.”

She glares at me, but it’s short-lived. Her hands reach for me, pulling me back, her nails scraping down my chest. “Don’t you dare stop,” she hisses, her voice trembling with need. “I want you. All of you.”

That’s all I need to hear. My hands are on her clothes, tearing them away with the same urgency as before. Her pussy is bare to me, glistening, inviting.

I groan at the sight, my cock twitching in anticipation. I lean down, my tongue tracing a slow, torturous path up her inner thigh, savoring the way she shudders beneath me.

“Naranus,” she moans, her hips lifting, seeking more. “Please. Take me.”

I don’t make her wait. My mouth finds her pussy, my tongue delving into her folds, tasting her, devouring her. She cries out, her hands fisting in my hair as I lick and suck, driving her closer to a protheka-shattering orgasm. Her thighs tremble around my head, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and I can feel her tightening, her body coiling like a spring.

But I pull back, ignoring her whimper of protest, and stand, shedding my own covering in quick, impatient movements.

“You’re beautiful, Eryss,” I moan, my head tilting back as I squeeze my balls.

My cock springs free, hard and aching, and her eyes widen as she takes me in. I can see the hunger in her gaze, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and it’s almost enough to undo me.

I step between her legs, my hands gripping her hips as I position myself at her entrance. “Look at me,” I command, my voice low, rough. Her eyes meet mine, and I see the storm there, the desire, the need.

“This is mine,” I growl, thrusting into her in one swift, deep motion.

She cries out, her nails digging into my hard shoulders as I fill her, her pussy clenching around my cock like a vice. I groan, my head falling forward as I savor the feel of her, the heat, the tightness. She’s perfect, and she’s mine.

“Eryss, Eryss…” I moan her name repeatedly like a prayer and my salvation.

I pull back, then thrust again, setting a relentless pace. Her moans fill the room, her body arching to meet mine, and I can feel her unraveling beneath me. Her pussy grips me tighter, her nails leaving marks on my skin, and I know she’s close.

“Come for me, Eryss,” I growl, my voice rough, my hips slamming into hers. “Let go.”

She does, her body shuddering as she cries out, her pussy pulsing around my cock. “Naranus!”

I follow her over the precipice, my own release crashing over me as I bury myself deep inside her, claiming her, marking her as mine.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing, the feel of her body beneath mine. Then, slowly, I pull back, my hands gentle as I brush the hair from her face. Her eyes meet mine, and I see the storm there, the emotions she can’t hide.

“I hate you,” she whispers again, but there’s no heat in her words. Only truth.

I smirk, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Lie,” I murmur against her lips.

38

ERYSS

Iwake up in the stillness of dawn, my body tangled in sheets that still hold his warmth. I don’t remember him bringing me back to his room from the war chambers.

My fingers clutch at the fabric as if I can summon him back, as if I can rewind time and stop myself from giving in to him so completely.

But he’s gone.

A sharp pang stabs through my chest. Coward. I force myself to sit up, biting back the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. My lips are swollen, my skin still thrums with the imprint of his touch. Every inch of me feels marked, branded by him. I fist my hands into my hair.

What the hell did we do?

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