Page 73 of Changelings
He had her nearly writhing beneath him when he used his nose to push the waist of her underthings down. Cool air kissed her soaked cunt before he did, his tongue finding her clitoris unerringly.
Imogen threw her head back onto the pillow, another noise she’d never made before barreling from her lungs. With teasing licks and firm circles, he inundated her with sensation and attention. His single-minded focus awed her; he hardly seemed to blink as he purred and licked and sucked.
That textured tongue played havoc with her balance and her cunt. After another firm lick, the tip cupping her clitoris in a lingering caress before leaving, he delved lower. Imogen shookand shivered as he kissed his way down to her entrance. There, he circled her, drawing her very essence into his mouth.
He hummed in satisfaction, as though he enjoyed the taste. Somehow, he pushed deeper, his shoulders spreading her legs wider, to the point of a pinching stretch. His tongue moved faster than she could track, piercing inside her to sweep the sides and then tease her with its texture. He gorged on her, feasted, and Imogen couldn’t stand it.
Digging her ankle into his shoulder, she choked, “Balar—!”
“That’s it, come for me,nitlam. I want to taste it.”
Body heaving with shakes, Imogen succumbed. Orgasm burst through her, pushing her off its peak. It was sharp, demanding, nothing like she’d ever made herself feel with her own fingers. She came and came, and when she didn’t think she could anymore, he fixed his lips on her clitoris andsucked.
Imogen cried out, crushing his paws in her grip. Her hips rolled to meet his unrelenting tongue, seeking out more even as he gave her everything. She was greedy for it, taking all that he could give her.
Her vision sparked and went hazy around the edges before finally, in a heap, she collapsed back onto the bed.
When she managed to open her eyes again, she looked down to find him still between her legs, his muzzle shining with her slick, and an infernally smug grin on his lips. He licked her still, indolent strokes that just kept her nerves from settling.
“I-I need a moment,” she said.
“Of course. Take all the time you need.”
She licked her dry lips, fascinated when she saw how his predatory gaze watched her. So she did it again.
“What about you?” she asked.
“This is enough for me,urisá. Don’t fret. Although…” He purred as he looked down upon her. “Could I stay with you tonight?”
He didn’t mean overnight on the sofa.
Imogen gulped. “Yes. But the bed is rather small for you.”
“Perfect,” he purred, “we’ll have to cuddle close, then. But first…”
All the warning Imogen got was a squeeze of his hands, and then his hot mouth was on her again.
23
With the weather clear but cold and the ground frozen rather than muddy, Imogen and Balar decided to take the opportunity to lead the animals on a walk to the Ahearn farm. Along the way, though, they made a few important stops.
First, Imogen visited Sofie Brádaigh’s home on the outskirts of Granach to thank her again for all her care—as well as pay her. Sofie hadn’t wanted to take payment, but Imogen insisted. She also asked Sofie to visit Neomi when she had time to see if her sister might open up about her troubles.
After waiting patiently for her outside with the animals, Balar welcomed her back into the warmth of his side beneath his wing. Together, they strolled through town.
Imogen flushed with nerves for quite a while—until she realized that hardly anyone noticed her walking beside Balar. Most everyone gave them a wide berth; those who did greet Balar did so almost warily. The responses gave her pause; she’d thought him well liked in Granach.
Balar didn’t seem to notice, steering her to stall after stall. Ifhe had his way, they’d leave with armfuls of pretty, luxurious, unnecessary things.
“Choose at least one thing,urisá. For me.”
“You want me to choose something for you?”she teased.
He rumbled with laughter, pulling her closer to kiss her hair. “There are plenty of things you could choose for yourself that would really be for me. If you so wanted.”
Imogen’s flush returned.Fates, that’s right.Silky stays or translucent nightgowns. Rouge for her lips and cheeks. Sweet-smelling oils. They were all a possibility.
But she didn’t think she could manage it with how the shopkeeper stared at them with such blatant interest. They’d knowwhat it was for—and Imogen might expire on the spot to know that they knew.
