Page 53 of Primal Hunger
Then he picks up the pace and I’m grunting, panting, struggling to see reason and make sense of this. There’s no room to think about my exhaustion. There is only the fast pace, the way he fucks up into me, filling every bit of available space.
The way he feels like he’s branding my insides.
“You are so tight,” he groans.
I’m not supposed to like the way he’s using me. I’m not supposed to like how he feels inside of me, the tip of his erection practically pushing into my stomach, or get even hotter at the thought of his knot.
He’s forcing me to take him so fast I barely have time to cry out. The friction is incredible, the pace supernaturally quick. It’s everything I can do to hang on and reach for his shoulders while he impales me again and again.
Slamming me down onto his cock.
Forcing me to take him, punishingly, without mercy. Without stopping.
He uses my body.
Syros is coming inside of me in a matter of minutes, finding his own pleasure between my legs and filling me with hot semen. The knot at the base of his cock flares up and engorges. He forces me down on him through the length of his orgasm, keeping me in place until he’s empty, keeping us attached so that his cum has time to coat every inch of my insides.
There is nowhere for me to go, and I’m not pulling free.
I’ve stopped fighting back.
Chapter
Nineteen
Erin
I’m no stranger to the unexplainable or unexpected, but laying curled up next to Syros on his nest of pelts while my pussy aches from being stretched to the brim by his knot is still hard for me to wrap my head around.
The strange twists and turns life takes…
If someone asked me a few days ago if I thought I’d be nestled next to a monster straight out of lore, I’d call them nuts. They’d have to be insane to suggest such a thing.
Yet, here I am, listening to the soft snores escaping his maw as he lays splayed beside me, snout toward the ceiling, his emptyeye sockets glowing the faintest shade of red as he slumbers. The heat radiating from him is better than any furnace, warming me down to the bone even though he put out the fire from earlier before we settled in for the night.
Settled in.
I suppress a giggle, amused by how normal the phrase sounds in this very muchnotnormal situation. We shouldn’t be settled in. Weshouldn’t be anything, but…here we are.
When did we go from predator and prey towe?
It might have been when I was too exhausted to make it through the woods and he carried me all the way back to his house. Or it might have been when we slow-danced to the fuzzy tune coming from the radio. Or it might have been after the last time he fucked me, when he cleaned the cum off my legs and carefully finished bathing me with the gollilock water.
Regardless of when it happened, the unsettling truth is that something between us has shifted. Whatever connection I felt earlier is stronger, like a tether drawing me to the massive monster. It’s more than mere fascination, though I’d consider myself completely and thoroughly fascinated. Something deeper, instinctual.
I don’t have a name for it, but I know it’s there. Almost animalistic, primal and feral—much like Syros.
He’s not a man and that’s what I like about him. He’s different, unusual,paranormal.
It’s like my entire career of paranormal investigating, all my knowledge of cryptids and lore, has led me to this moment.
Like fate guided me here, to Syros.
With a smile curling my lips, I close my eyes. Exhaustion tugs at my limbs, urging me to let go and pass out, but I can’t. Not yet. Not when my mind is racing, considering every angle of this arrangement and coming up with a confusing blank where reason should be.
Forget the podcast and forget my blog. In a million years, no one will believe me if I put my experience into words. Syros isn’t the only thing straight out of legend. So is the tale I’ll have to tell once I’m home again.
If I ever make it there…
