Page 59 of Gemini Queen
It actually shocks me to realize I’m toying with the concept of fucking him bare. Because honestly, I never do that. And if I’m wanting to discourage him from thinking we’re fated mates, this is hardly the way to accomplish that either.
Still, I’m tempted. It’s his first time. It’s supposed to be special.
“God, I want thatsomuch,” he whispers.
With my lips still wrapped around him, I lift my eyes to his. His purple hair’s all tumbled on my pillow and his face is flushed and his green eyes are fixed on me like I’m the only thing that matters in his whole universe. There’s so much longing burning in his eyes and aching in his voice that my own eyes sting with tears.
What can I say? He’s really hard to resist when he’s begging.
“Okay, baby.” I sit up and peel out of my yoga pants and panties.
He rises on his elbows to watch. He’s a total sex god sprawled in my bed, those Captain America shoulders and chest and biceps all bulging with muscle, a well-defined six pack rippling down his abs, thick quads bracketing a good 8.5 inches of cock, all flushed purple and slick with my spit and his precum.
Just the sight of all that cock makes me wet.
I wonder if I should edge him a little more first. But I’m so hot to feel him inside me that I don’t want to wait, and he doesn’t seem to need more foreplay.
I swing my thigh over his to crouch over him on hands and needs, dragging my tits over his chest and rubbing my pussy against his well-lubed cock. The friction is sublime, and it makes us both moan. His hands close around my hips and knead my ass and rock me into him harder.
My face is hovering right over his, my pigtails streaming down on either side to enclose us in our own little world, and he’s locked on my eyes like he’ll never look away. The inner walls of my pussy are clenching, starving to feel him inside me.
Every time my clit brushes his cock, the tide of my need surges higher.
“Zara,” he breathes, his shaft sliding down the soaking crevasse between my pussy lips. “Oh Zara… oh God… oh God…”
I reach between us and fit his cock to the mouth of my pussy. “Hold on tight for me, baby.”
I lower myself a careful inch onto him, trying to take it slow and give him time to adjust to this whole new thing. But he’s a really quick study. He thrusts hard and deep and seats himself deep inside me with a jolt that makes us both moan.
God, he’s so thick. The way he’s stretching me, filling every little centimeter of space inside me, I’m really close to getting off before he’s even started thrusting.
“Sorry!” he gasps, anxious eyes searching my face. “Am I… did I…?”
“You’re perfect,” I assure him, awed and breathless. “You’re so perfect.”
And he is. He really is.
I’m clamped around him like the feeder valve sealing an oxygen tank in a deep dive. I feel like I’m drifting in an ocean current, buoyant in thirty feet of water, with a dazzle of sunlight on green water sparkling all around me. I sit up and grip his ribs for balance and start to undulate on top of him. He spans my hips with his hands to steady me and thrusts carefully into me, every stroke slow and deep.
His face is amazing to watch, eyes wide with wonder and blazing with passion, lips parted with concentration, face flushed with pleasure.
I’m giving him that pleasure, and in that moment he’s mine.
He’s all mine.
A sudden flood of vanilla musk fills my head and makes me feel all floaty.
I have Mogadon blood and Mogadon pheromones along with the rest of my genetics, but it’s so diluted I hardly ever scent, and never when I’m fucking. Because sexually, Mogadon scent to claim their mates, and that’s never been me.
But that’s what I’m doing now. I’m scenting him to claim him.
Even though he’s not my mate.
His eyes darken and his jaw locks.
“I am though, Zara,” he growls, low and intense. “So claim me.”
This entire concept is unacceptable, but somehow my body doesn’t seem to be getting the message. My thighs lock around him and my pace kicks up, riding him hard and fast. He meets me thrust for thrust, grunting through clenched teeth, his eyes locked on mine, refusing to let me look away. The adrenaline rush of my own pheromones is making me dizzy, and it’s torquing him even tighter.
