His hands slid beneath me, lifting my hips as his mouth continued its downward journey. The night air was warm against my bare skin—when had I lost my clothes? Did it matter?—but his breath was hotter, raising goosebumps wherever it touched.
I writhed beneath him, desperate for more contact, more pressure, more *him*. But his strength was absolute, his control unbreakable. He would take me apart at his pace, not mine.
A whisper of movement caught my attention—vines, sliding through the moss toward us. Not Phil—these were different, darker, with a purple-blue luminescence that pulsed in time with my racing heart.
“What—” I began, but Lor silenced me with a look of such possessive heat that the question died in my throat.
“The jungle knows what you need,” he said, his voice a dark promise. “What we need.”
The vines moved with purpose, slithering beneath me, lifting me slightly off the moss bed. They were warm, almost hot, and they seemed to vibrate with a life of their own. They curled around my wrists, gentle but insistent, drawing my arms above my head.
I should have been frightened. Should have protested. Instead, I surrendered, letting them take my weight, support me, position me for Lor’s pleasure—and mine.
He growled his approval, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat pooling between my thighs. “Perfect,” he rasped, his gaze raking over my exposed body. “My kassari. Mine to taste. Mine to claim.”
His tail, which had been swaying behind him like a metronome of desire, now curled forward with deliberate intent. The tip of it—softer than I expected, velvety and warm—traced patterns on my stomach, circling my navel before sliding higher.
I gasped as it reached my breast, teasing around the outer curve before zeroing in on my nipple with devastating precision. The tip flicked, circled, pressed—an entirely different sensation from his tongue or fingers, but no less maddening.
“Lor,” I moaned, arching into the contact. “Please.”
“Patience,” he murmured, his mouth now hovering just above the apex of my thighs. “I’ve waited lifetimes to taste you here.”
The first stroke of his tongue against my core nearly undid me. Those ridges—god, those ridges—caught against my sensitive flesh, creating friction that sent electricity racing up my spine. He growled against me, the vibration adding yet another layer to the overwhelming sensations.
My thighs trembled, trying to close around his head, but the vines had wrapped around my ankles too, holding me open and vulnerable to his relentless assault.
His tongue delved deeper, those rough ridges dragging against places inside me that I didn’t even know could feel so much. His hands gripped my hips, angling me to give him better access, while his tail continued its maddening attention to my nipple, flicking and rolling in counterpoint to the rhythm of his tongue.
“You taste like mine,” he growled against me, the words vibrating through my core. “Like fate. Like home.”
The reverence in his voice, the worship in his touch—it was too much. I was climbing higher, faster than I thought possible, every nerve ending alive with sensation.
And then I felt it—a new pressure, gentle but insistent, against my back entrance. A vine, slick with some kind of natural lubricant, circling and teasing.
My eyes flew open in surprise, locking with Lor’s golden gaze. He paused, watching me, waiting for permission.
“Yes,” I gasped, not even sure what I was agreeing to anymore. Just knowing I wanted everything he could give me. Everything this dream, this bond, this fate had to offer.
The vine pressed forward, breaching me slowly, carefully, while Lor’s tongue resumed its devastating attention to my core. The dual penetration sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, building and building until I was certain I would shatter from the intensity.
The vine moved deeper, stretching me in the most delicious way, while a second one joined it, both of them working in tandem with Lor’s mouth to drive me to the edge of madness.
His tail tightened around my nipple, tugging just shy of pain, and that was all it took. My release crashed over me like a tidal wave, wrenching a cry from my throat that echoed through the dream jungle.
But Lor wasn’t finished. As the aftershocks still rippled through me, he rose up, his massive body covering mine, the evidence of his own need pressing hot and hard against my thigh.
“Mine,” he growled, his voice deeper than I’d ever heard it. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I gasped, reaching for him despite the vines still holding my wrists. “I’m yours, Lor.”
With a sound that was more animal than man, he claimed my mouth again, his tongue—that incredible, textured tongue—tangling with mine as he aligned our bodies. The vines shifted, adjusting my position, lifting my hips to the perfect angle for him.
When he entered me, it was like coming home. Like finding a piece of myself I hadn’t known was missing. He filled me completely, stretching me to the point of exquisite discomfort before my body yielded, accepting him, welcoming him.
The vines in my back channel continued their gentle thrusting, creating a fullness that bordered on overwhelming. Lor’s tail had moved to wrap around my waist, holding me steady as he began to move within me, each thrust deliberate and deep.
“Feel me,” he commanded, his forehead pressed to mine, our breath mingling. “Feel what you do to me, kassari.”
