Page 97 of Foundling

Leita nipped at his lip, wanting him to hurry. “Attalus…”

“Let go, agae. You’ll have many more before I’m done.”

“Is that a warning—or a threat?” she gasped, hips beginning to roll.

Attalus only chuckled, sealing his mouth over hers while he pinched her clitoris between thumb and finger.

Her hips bucked, trying to create more friction. She keened his name as he pulled an orgasm from her body, and she tasted his smile against her lips.

His fingers continued to move, keeping her shaking. When she reached for his cock, he intercepted her, kissing her palm before placing it on his head. Perhaps he meant to distract her, but Leita remembered just how sensitive the horn bases were.

Attalus’s mouth trailed kisses down her throat to her sternum. He lavished each breast with attention, forked tongue fitting around the nipple to tease and tweak. Alternating between them, Leita was left to loll her head from side to side, not sure whether his plucking fingers or fluttering tongue felt better.

Remembering her grip on his horn, Leita ran her thumb along the base. The skin was thick and warm here, the texture of horn disappearing into skin and scale fascinating. His rumble tickled her skin, and finally he began kissing down, down, down to where she needed him most.

Without preamble, thank the goddesses, he fixed his lips on her cunt and sucked.

Leita’s head fell back on the bed, spine arching to push herself up into his touch. She needed more, hands rubbing desperate circles along his horns.

His pleased rumbles reverberated against her hot flesh, an added sensation that sent stars bursting across her vision.

Nothing could have prepared her for his tongue. Not even feeling it on her nipples.

He slotted that fork at her clitoris and twisted.

Leita boxed his ears with her thighs, holding him with legs and hands on his horns. She came and came, not knowing when one orgasm ended and the next began. Yet, she begged for more, demanded his cock. Her cunt clenched and wept for being empty, neglected and despairing.

Finally, she felt his fingers run along the rim of her entrance, pushing past the ring of muscle just inside. She mewled in relief, body clenching in readiness for another orgasm. Her inner muscles sucked at his fingers, trying to draw him deeper.

But again Attalus teased and denied. Rather than stroke or curl, his fingers separated, opening her up.

A sound of confusion escaped her—why, how?

His fingers held her open for—something pushed inside her. Not more fingers, but not his cock either, not in this position.

She blinked the bleariness from her eyes only to gasp as she watched his tail push deeper inside her.

More tapered than his cock and smooth with scales, it slid inside to fill her up in two easy strokes. The gold band near the end of his tail pushed against her entrance, a dizzying dichotomy of textures and sensations.

He moved his tail like he would his cock, fucking her as his tongue worked her clitoris.

Leita forgot her revenge on his horns—all she could do was writhe beneath him. Beyond words, beyond sense, there was only the pleasure he gave. She laughed, she wept, he made her feel everything all at once as another orgasm rolled through her and the gold band sunk inside.

Attalus hissed at the sight. “Oh, agae, this is giving me ideas.”

All she could do was moan. When he held her by the hips to roll her onto her side, Leita, boneless and mindless, went. Although he straightened, his mouth leaving her clitoris behind, his tail continued to fuck in and out of her, giving no quarter. She moaned when he took her left leg and lifted it, hooking her knee over his shoulder.

She was utterly open to him like this, his tail hitting so deep. Leita clenched her teeth, not knowing if she could bear it.

Without losing his rhythm, Attalus slipped his tail from her and replaced it with his cock. Soaked and ready, he entered without issue, stretching her that last bit until he was home. She clutched at his forearm, needing to hold onto something as his hips thrust with gaining speed.

The pressure inside built and built, a potential just waiting to snap.

Attalus’s grin was more fang than smile, his ferocious pleasure writ across his face. His scales gleamed in the late afternoon light, his mouth glinting with her slick. She watched his earrings bob at his ears and his necklaces bounce off his chest with every mighty thrust.

Leita grabbed the ruby pendant when it next swung, using it to drag him down. He bent over her, bringing her leg with him and opening her impossibly wide. She groaned into his mouth, tasting herself, and bit his lip.

A groan tumbled from his mouth to hers, his hips slamming down in a crescendo. Leita dug her fingers into his hair, scraping against his scalp and horn bases. His back and wings rippled as though he would shift, and his cock thrust home one last time.