Page 34 of Moonless

I drag the heel of his hand up against my clit and hold it there until he understands. After that he’s slow and patient about it, watching my face and changing what he’s doing every time my breath catches. I tell him faster. He ignores me until I say it again, and then he gives me exactly half of what I asked for. I can hear how wet I am. So can he, and his breathing has gone rough against my temple.

His nostrils flare. He draws his fingers out of me, which I object to loudly, and looks at them shining in the moonlight. He puts them in his mouth.

His eyes close, and the growl that comes out of him goes straight through my ribs.

“I didn’t say st—”

He’s moved down my body before I finish, with his face level with my belt. He shoves the hem up to my waist with the backs of his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Following my nose.”

He breathes in against the curls between my thighs, one long pull through his nose, and his eyes close again.

Whatever he’s getting from that, I can’t smell it. I can only watch what it does to him.

“Put your leg up.”

“Ask nicely.”

He hooks my knee over his shoulder himself, and the pelt there is thick and warm under my leg. It opens me wide in front of his face. Then his mouth is on my pussy, and I stop having opinions about his manners.

His tongue is broad and hot, and he licks me in long, searching strokes, following whatever his nose is telling him. It tells him a lot. It doesn’t tell him where my clit is, so I do.

“Up. A little—there. There, you stubborn bastard.”

He goes at it the way he does everything else, thoroughly, and for once he takes my advice. When he growls, I feel it all the way into my knees. He notices, and he does it again on purpose. Both fangs rest against me, hard points that never press. His hands spread under my ass and lift me to his mouth, with every claw turned out into the needles instead of me.

When he pushes his tongue inside me, thick and deep, I forget what I was going to call him next. I’ve never had anyone’s mouth there, and my own hand has been lying to me about how good this could get. He fucks me with his tongue slowly, his nose pressing against my clit on every stroke, and I grind up into his face because he’s got my hips off the ground and I can.

I make the mistake of looking down. Both his ears are pointed straight at me, forward and wide open, and his eyes come up when my grip tightens. The moon throws green back out of them, and his chin is wet with me.

I’ve spent days of perfectly good insults trying to earn one ear.

I throw my left arm out above my head for something to hold, and he stops.

His breath hits my thigh. “Arm.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He waits with his mouth just off me and his tongue still, while I throb in the cold air. I put the arm down.

I tighten my fist in his hair. “Bastard.”

He goes back to work, and I push his mouth where I want it. “Suck.” He closes his lips around my clit and does. It doesn’t take long after that. My thigh starts shaking against his ear. I come with my head back in the needles and my hand locked in his hair, clenching on nothing, loud enough that anything hunting this slope knows exactly where we are. He stays with me all the way through it, licking slower and softer, until I push at his forehead.

He doesn’t move far. His eyes come up, catching the moon. “You stopped giving orders.”

“I was busy.”

He growls against my thigh. “I want more.”

It’s not a question. His mouth is back on me before I’ve decided whether to mind on principle.

This one builds slower and goes deeper. He slides the two blunt fingers back into me and puts his mouth back where I taught it to go, sucking in time with his hand. The claws he’s kept lie flat along my thigh where I can feel the cool curve of them, harmless. I ride his hand and his mouth with his shirt shoved up around my waist. When I come this time, clenching around his fingers, I say something that isn’t an insult. He’s kind enough to keep licking and not mention it.

He eases my leg off his shoulder and lays it down, then kneels up between my knees, wiping his mouth on his forearm. He’s still hard. The moonlight shows me the whole thick length of his cock straining the front of his trousers, with a wet spot darkening the cloth at the tip.