Page 18 of Dead Drop

His tail rewraps. One loop around each thigh, pulling them apart, locking my legs wide.

His loincloth shifts aside and his cock is against the inside of my thigh—enormous, already hard—and it moves. The tip drags from my cunt to my clit in one slow stroke, tracing every slick thing the venom has put there. I hear the sound it makes. Obscene and wet in the canopy air.

I am furious. I am soaked. His cock drags back down and my hips push back.

I don't decide that. My hips push back against him in the air. He makes a sound against my ear—low and rough, a grunt from somewhere below language. Then his feet hit the furs.

8

ADA

He thrusts into me on the landing.

All of him. All at once. All of him drives in before my body has made any peace with the size—the sheer depth of it, the stretch, the overwhelming feeling of him filling me completely?—

"Fuck—" I manage, ragged. His weight follows me down, pinning me. I'm face-first in the furs, pinned, his cock buried deep inside me before the word has finished.

He doesn't pause for my comfort.

His hands lock on my hips. He pulls his cock back—the slick sound of it obscene, I'm soaked and gushing around him—and drives in hard. A moan tears out of me, unwilling.

He pulls out and drives in again. It fills the aerie immediately: his hips slapping against my ass, the wet sound of every thrust, his deep guttural breath, my voice coming out in ragged gasps. The fucking rising, faster, louder, as he keeps going.

He's grunting. Short and low with every thrust. Something that has been driving toward this since the moment the switch flipped and has arrived and is not stopping.

His tail loops around each of my thighs from below, pulling them apart, holding me spread wide under him. He's enormous—his chest is at my shoulder blades, not my head, his body so much larger than mine that I barely reach his sternum. Every thrust drives me into the furs, fills me entirely, his cock reaching depths no fingers ever could. Like nothing I've ever felt or dared to imagine.

His cock flexes inside me.

Not just thrusting. The prehensile muscle pressing forward from within, finding the front wall and holding it, stroking that spot through my walls while his hips keep driving. My cunt clenches around it, gripping hard, and he groans once.

Both at once: the full thrust and the internal pressure, his cock pressing on that exact place on every stroke. The tail sends its tip to my clit and starts to circle. Slow. Relentless. Ignoring everything else happening in this aerie.

I claw at the furs. My thighs are trembling against his—both legs shaking, nothing left in them.

His cock presses that spot on every stroke. The tail circles my clit without mercy. He's grunting against the back of my neck—low, rhythmic, animal—and he's so large inside me and I—I can't—there's no?—

I come on his cock.

My cunt seizes around him, hard and clenching, and I cry out—"no—" breaking into something shapeless. "Good," he says against my neck, low. He drives harder through it. The tail tightens on my clit as I clench.

I'm keening into the nest, gasping on every thrust. He groans—wrecked—and doesn't slow down. His hips slam into me through all of it. I grip the furs and he keeps going.

His fangs find the back of my neck. He has to curve that massive frame down to reach me—I feel the arc of his spineagainst my back, his whole body bowing just to close the distance.

The venom hits a body already drowning. Every nerve fires outward from the bite.

There's nothing left. No training, no briefing, nothing that knows anything at all. His cock inside me. The tail on my clit. The wet slap of his hips. His grunt against my neck—short, low, the sound so deep I feel it in my sternum.

He's enormous inside me. His cock keeps pressing on that spot from within, keeps finding it on every thrust. I'm moaning into what he's built. I can't stop.

He groans against my neck—long, rough, wrecked. His clawed hands haul me back against every thrust. I'm so slick around him I can hear it on every stroke.

I come again. My walls clench around him and I sob against the furs, crying out on every thrust. I'm boneless—no strength left in my legs, nothing in my thighs. It's his tail coiled around my waist and his massive clawed hands gripping my hips that are keeping me in position at all.

He groans against my skin, guttural and wrecked, and drives through it.

The knot swells.