Page 70 of January Bell

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

LILY

Zan catches up to me before I realize I’m even being chased. My heart is hammering, beating faster than it has, I think, even when we were trapped in Kenny’s hellish idea of a reality TV show.

Zan tosses me onto the bed with a low growl, and I tear off my clothes as fast as I can. He pauses, wetting his lips with his light purple tongue, staring at me with naked need in his eyes.

“You are so beautiful. So perfect, so delicate.” His eyes travel over every surface of my body, and I lay there panting, burning with need for him.

“I need you to fucking do this.”

He laughs. “You might be the least romantic creature in all the galaxy.”

I try to be offended at that, but the heat has had me in its grip for far too long.

“We can be romantic later,” I tell him. “Get in me.”

He throws back his head and laughs again. “If you thought I was going to go fast during our first heat together, during my first rut with you, you were incredibly wrong.”

“You’re a virgin,” I tell him, exasperated. “Shouldn’t you be a one-pump chump?”

I throw my legs wide, which is quite likely the least sexy move I’ve ever done in my entire life, and I frankly don’t care anymore. Trying to spur him on, trying to get some relief, I put my fingers between my legs and touch myself.

“Absolutely not,” he growls, diving between my legs. His hurt wing rests on my knee, and I’m careful not to jostle him as he takes over what my fingers are woefully unable to accomplish.

And trust me, I have tried.

Zan looks along the apex of my sex, and I nearly combust, grinding my soaking pussy against his face. And it’s not enough. I’m not going to be able to get off like this. And as good as it feels, I’m immediately frustrated just thirty seconds in.

“I need it,” I tell him, practically wheezing, begging. He told me to beg, and I⁠—

“Lily.”

“I don’t want to hush,” I grind out, grabbing his horns.

He groans, looking up at me from between my thighs, and the expression on his face is enough to nearly make me come. But of course I can’t, because the one thing I need to come is nowhere near where I need it.

“I never told you that horns are reserved for mates,” he says.

“Huh?” I’m too far gone to register what he’s saying.

“They have a direct line to my cock,” he says, moving forward over me, gesturing to his pulsing dick.

“You asshole,” I say, laughing as the realization hits me. “You totally got off while you were eating me out that time.”

“In my pants,” he agrees.

“Good, that means if I just—” I yank on his horns, running my fingers up and down their ridged length.

He groans, giving me a fiery look laden with menacing desire.

I love it.

So I do it again, like the asshole I am, grinning at him like an idiot the whole time. He grinds against the bed, then stares down at me as he makes up his mind.

“You are going to get what you want, but not what I want.”