Page 55 of Purring for Her Lion
She stiffens beneath me, her hands pausing where they’d been exploring the fur of my shoulders. “What do you mean, they weren’t just dreams? And wait, how the hell did you even know about those dreams?”
I pull back just enough to see her face, to gauge her reaction. “Rodinians can sometimes form dream connections with their mates. It’s part of the bonding process. When two fate mates are in close proximity, and our minds connect and we have a unity dream.”
Her mouth opens, closes, opens again. “Are you telling me those extremely vivid, extremely explicit dreams I had about you were real? That you were there? That we shared them?”
I nod once, watching her carefully. “I didn’t plan it. It just happens. And I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid it would scare you away.”
“If you have no control over them, then how come it only happened those few times?”
“I think we both need to be asleep at the same time for that to happen, and our circadian rhytms rarely do, I suppose.” I brace for her response.
Instead of the shock or horror I half-expected, her eyes narrow in accusation. “You mean to tell me that all this time, I could have been having incredibly hot sex dreams with you, but I was too busy being an insomniac?”
A laugh rumbles out of me, relief and desire mixing into something heady. “Essentially, yes.”
“That’s just...That’s just unfair. Yet another way I’m betrayed by my neurodivergent brain.” She smacks my shoulder lightly,but she’s smiling, her body relaxing beneath mine. “All those nights of staring at the ceiling when I could have been dreaming about...that thing you did with your tongue.”
“I can do that thing with my tongue right now,” I offer, already lowering my head to demonstrate. “No dreaming required.”
Her breath catches. “Oh... well, when you put it that way...”
I kiss her again, deeper this time, letting my control slip just enough to show her how much I want her. My tongue traces the seam of her lips, and she opens for me immediately, eager and responsive. She tastes better than in the dreams—sweeter, more complex, more real.
My hands find the hem of her shirt, sliding underneath to touch warm skin. She arches into my touch with a gasp that I capture with my mouth. I pull back just long enough to remove her shirt, then mine, needing to feel her against me without barriers.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, taking in the sight of her. Her skin glows in the afternoon light filtering through the blinds, her breasts rising and falling with each quickened breath. I lower my head to taste her, my tongue tracing a path from her collarbone to the swell of her breast.
When I take her nipple into my mouth, she cries out, her back arching off the bed. I suck gently, then with more pressure, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her moan, what makes her fingers tighten in my mane.
“Roarke,” she breathes, my name a prayer on her lips. “Please.”
“Please what?” I ask against her skin, moving to give her other breast the same attention. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need...I need your mouth. Everywhere.”
I growl my approval, working my way down her body, removing her shorts and underwear as I go. The scent of her arousal hits me full force, making my cock throb painfully against the confines of my jeans. I spread her thighs with gentle but firm hands, exposing her completely to my gaze.
“Even better than the dreams,” I tell her, lowering my head to where she’s wet and waiting for me.
The first taste of her makes my vision blur. She’s sweet and tangy and perfect, her essence coating my tongue as I lick a long, slow path through her folds. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head, and when I focus my attention on the small bundle of nerves at her center, she lets out a sound that’s half-sob, half-moan.
My toes curl when I go in again, ravenous, this time insatiable, French-kissing her cunt and sucking on her juices as my tongue slithers into her hole, so deep. She’s seeing stars and thrashing and crying out as though in pain. But it’s so good, so fucking good. She’s losing the threads of her thoughts and she’s terrified she’ll soon forget her name.
I hold her open with my hands, keeping her exactly where I want her as I devour her with single-minded focus. Her taste, her scent, the sounds she makes—it’s all better than the dreams, more intense, more real. I could stay here forever, worshipping her with my mouth, but the need to be inside her, to claim her completely, is becoming overwhelming.
When I feel her getting close, her inner muscles fluttering against my tongue, I suck her clit between my lips and flick my tongue rapidly against it. She comes with a cry of my name, her back arching off the bed, her essence flooding my mouth.
I work her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks ripple through her, until she collapses back against the pillows, breathless and flushed.
“Oh my god,” she gasps, one arm thrown over her eyes. “That was... that was...”
“Just the beginning,” I promise, moving back up her body to kiss her deeply, letting her taste herself on my tongue.
She moans into my mouth, her hands fumbling with the fastening of my jeans. “Off,” she demands between kisses. “I need these off now.”
I comply, standing to remove the last of my clothing, aware of her gaze tracking my movements, lingering on my erection as it springs free. Her eyes widen slightly—I’m proportional to my size, after all—but there’s no fear in her expression, only hunger.
“Come here,” she says, reaching for me, and I’m powerless to resist.
