Page 97 of Mindeater

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision.

My cock is hard and leaking onto the dusty bed.

I can’t stop moaning at the punishing intrusion.

“Ryx, please,” I beg.

At this point, I don’t even know what for. Orgasms are also overwhelming. Like a crack in a dam that’s been waiting years to flood a city. I’ve had one already, and I blacked out from the force.

“Give me your mouth, Saren,” he demands.

I twist my head as far as it’ll go so he can kiss me. His tongue pushes through my lips, swiping over my teeth, and down my throat. It’s so wet, hot, building that pressure once more. My muscles lock, and there's a perpetual throb in my cock and balls. I sob into his feral kisses, missing the bite of his canines.

He releases his bruising grip on my waist to slip his fist over my length. I buck in his hold, the sensation too much but not enough.

“Are you mine?” Ryx asks against my abused lips.

“Yes!”

“Can you feel me?”

“Yes!”

“Are you going to come for me, baby?”

A hard pressure digs into my cockhead right before his thumb pushes against my slit. I scream, tears pouring down my cheeks. I tug on his hair, push my cock deeper into his fist, and tremble as I spill my release. A satisfied rumble fills my ears while he milks me, not letting a single drop leave his palm.

“Open,” he whispers.

I stare at the milky fluid he’s offering me. My tongue wets my lips. Part of me wants to refuse, but the bigger part wants to please him. I want him to keep making me feel this way. So I lap up my seed, tasting both myself and the salt of his skin. Nothing goes to waste. I drink it all and lick his hand clean.

“Fuck, Saren. You’re the most perfect thing.”

My whimper is immediate as my heart sings and quivers in my chest.

He thinks I’m perfect.

Me.

“I want to touch you.”

His hips halt at my whispered confession. Is he going to ignore me? Continue like I didn’t ask?

“It’s going to hurt,” he warns.

“Please.”

“Okay,” he coos.

I’ve never heard him sound so…sweet.

With gentle movements, he rolls us so I’m lying on top of him and takes his time to rotate me so I can straddle his hips. He isn’t wrong about the pain; his knot tugs at my entrance and doesn’t give us much space to work with. But after a minute or two, I can caress his chest and look directly into his hooded eyes.

And we watch each other.

We feel each other.

He lets me touch everywhere without hesitation.