Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Then do not wear them anymore. I much prefer you like this. He cups my breast and nuzzles my neck.
I gasp, leaning against him and closing my eyes. “I thought we were kissing.”
We will. I am merely admiring my mate and her soft skin. He strokes my breast, careful not to drag his claws. And you are very, very soft, my Emma.
His thoughts give me delicious chills. I shiver and reach up to caress his jaw, wanting to touch him, to contribute in some way. He’s caressing me and I feel like the focus of everything.
You are my focus, he agrees. You are my world.
It makes me color with pleasure to hear that. When was the last time I was anyone’s world? Ever? “I should touch you, too, though.”
Soon enough, he agrees. For now, let me please my mate. He continues to stroke my breast and then leans close. I wish to kiss again.
The book? I ask him, breathless and leaning in against him.
Zohr’s mouth closes over mine and his tongue dips into my mouth. We will look at it when we run out of ideas. He brushes the pads of his fingers against my nipple.
I moan, rocking my hips as he touches me. I’m full of unfulfilled need, wanting to alternately press his hand even closer to my breast and push him away. He’s pleased by my frustrated response and continues to rub the tip of my nipple with his thumb, back and forth, over and over as he kisses me.
I can feel myself getting slick between my thighs just from this. Can feel the spiral of heat curling in my belly, and I’m hungry for more touches, more kisses. I lose myself in his embrace, not caring about anything except his touch—
Until the ticklishness of his touch gets to me and my foot kicks the dead goat.
That kills the mood. We’re making out and there’s a carcass right there.
He pulls away from me, his eyes like molten gold. A tendril of smoke escapes one nostril. Shall I cook it for you?
I’m not hungry right now, and the thought of butchering a goat would definitely kill the moment. But I don’t think I can keep kissing him with its dead body right there. It goes against everything I am.
Shall I get rid of it?
Seems terrible to waste so much meat. I hesitate.
I will cook it for you and then return. He leans in and gives me another fierce, urgent kiss and sends a bevy of emotions through our connection that leave me breathless and hungry for more.
How can I argue with that? “All right. I’ll wait here.”
His eyes gleam as he slides me to the floor and gets to his feet. Find us a good page in your book while I am gone. And he turns to leave, and I can’t help but notice that his cock’s eye level with me and very, very erect. I get all achy at the sight of it, and I kind of wish he’d come back so I can stare some more.
You will get your chance, he promises.
Someday I’m going to remember he can hear everything I’m thinking. Seems unfair, because I suspect I’m not picking up one hundred percent of what’s going through his mind.
Perhaps in time, he says, slinging the goat over his big shoulder with ease and strolling away with it.
Um, while you’re gone, can you gut that thing and skin it before you cook it? I tell him, inwardly wincing at how it’ll go if he doesn’t. And then find something to cover it up so flies don’t get on it?
I shall do as you ask. He sends an image of coals and a fire pit, and then everything changes to a tumble of dragon thoughts. He feels different when he’s in his dragon form. It’s like his head is more stream of consciousness. It’s fascinating. I want to sit and just watch the world through his eyes as he goes out into the streets and looks for a place to put the kill. He decides on the trunk of an old car and rips it open with his claws, and I’m riveted.
Of course, if I sit there and watch him, I’m not going to find a picture…
Decisions, decisions.
Reluctantly, I pull my thoughts from his when he uses his claws to slit the skin. It’s as good a time as any to pick up the book and see what I’ve got. Of course, I decide that now’s the perfect time—instead—to strip off my jeans and panties. If he’s going to be nothing but skin, I can do the same. I’m not a chicken in every other aspect of my life, so there’s no need to be shy around Zohr. Not when he knows me more intimately than any other person on earth.