Page 45 of Gaga for the Gargoyle
Wait...that’s not the only thing vibrating.
“Holy shit, Xander, is your cock vibrating?”
“Yes,” he grunts, pounding into me.
The tip expands and every time he thrusts deep inside me, it brushes against my G-spot.
The vibrating—not only from his tail, but his cock—his fingers working my nipples, his wings holding me down...I’m already approaching another release.
“Xander, I’m going to come again.”
He picks up speed at my words. Our bodies slap together, piercing the quiet of the apartment. The moment the vibration of his cock intensifies, as if he pressed a setting, I climax for a second time.
Stars dance across my vision as my body shakes through the orgasm. That’s when an intense pressure, both painful and pleasant, presses against my spasming cunt.
The knotting.
His warm seed splatters my walls. I’ve never been able tofeelit before.
Once Xander has emptied all his cum, he lays his head down between my breasts, catching his breath. His wings no longer hold down my arms, so I run my fingers through his sweat-matted hair. He hums at my touch.
“I need to wait until the knot goes down before I can remove myself from you. Since we are not fucking to breed, it won’t take too long. Five to ten minutes maybe,” he mumbles against my skin.
“How long does the knot stay…swollen when we’re fucking to breed?”
“Anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour.”
“Really? So your cock’s just hanging out inside me until…”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating throughout my body. “Until our bodies communicate, letting us know you are with child.”
He must sense my body tensing as I let his words sink in. My heart races. Though that could still be left over from the intense sex we just had.
“Like I said, it won’t happen until you’re ready.”
He lifts his head and smiles.
“Are you okay?”
I don’t tell him that my reaction to his words wasn’t panic. It’s more because our talk about knotting and getting pregnant didn’t scare me at all. Logically, talking about this with someone I’ve just met should raise all the red flags and send me running.
Instead, I almost feel content. Happy. Eager for this life he paints for our future.
Our future.
“Evangeline?” he asks, worry nipping at his voice.
“I’m more than okay, my king. I’m fucking amazing.”
I lean down to kiss him. His mouth hungrily devours mine, his long, thick tongue exploring every inch, as if it’ll be the last time we kiss.
After we make out for at least five minutes, he finally, and carefully, pulls out of me.
“Now,” he says, standing. “We’re going to shower, and you’re going to let me wash you.”
“I am?”
“Yes. And then I’ll cook you breakfast.”
