“Indeed,” I managed, my voice rougher than intended.
Her knee pressed against mine beneath the small table we shared, a subtle point of contact that burned through the fabric of my clothes. We continued eating, the meal becoming an extended form of foreplay—each bite exchanged, each seemingly innocent touch building tension between us like a coiling spring.
By the time she laughed at some comment I’d made—her head thrown back, throat exposed in a way that made my marking instincts surge—I’d reached my limit. I dropped enough Terran currency on the counter to fund the entire restaurant for a week, not bothering to wait for the proper payment process.
“But we didn’t even have dessert,” she protested, though her quickened pulse betrayed her own eagerness to leave.
“You’re my dessert,” I growled low enough that only she could hear.
She giggled—a sound of genuine delight that warmed me more than any meal could—and dragged me back toward her apartment, her fingers intertwined with mine in a grip that promised everything.
This time when we entered her dwelling, there was no hesitation, no weapons raised in defense. Just Miri, backing toward her bedroom with her eyes locked on mine, a silent invitation I had no intention of refusing.
I deactivated the camo-tech with a thought, my true form shimmering into visibility—tawny spotted skin, extended height, the tail that curled with anticipation behind me. Relief flooded through me at being free of the restrictive disguise, at being able to present my true self to my mate.
“There you are,” she breathed, her gaze trailing over me with open appreciation.
“You don’t prefer the human disguise?” I asked, genuinely curious. Most Terrans found our natural form intimidating at best, terrifying at worst.
“No, he was weird,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose. “Too smooth. Too conventional. I like you—the real you.”
Something unfamiliar expanded in my chest at her words—a warmth that had nothing to do with physical desire and everything to do with acceptance. She wanted me as I was, not as what her world might find more palatable.
I crossed to her in two strides, lifting her with ease and carrying her to the bed. “Then you shall have me,” I promised, laying her down with deliberate care. “All of me.”
What followed was a careful undressing—my claws slicing through her clothing with surgical precision, never once grazing her skin. Her smaller hands working at the fastenings of my tactical gear until we were both bare, skin to skin in the soft glow of her bedroom lights.
I positioned myself against her headboard, back supported, and pulled her onto my lap to straddle me. “I want to watch you,” I explained, hands spanning her waist. “Want to see every expression as you take me.”
She settled over me, thighs spread wide to accommodate my larger frame, her heat hovering just above where I needed her most. “Wait,” she said suddenly. “I have something.”
She ran out of the bedroom and came back a moment later with a ripe fruit in a bowl. Cubes of a vibrant orange color, with a subtle scent that reminded me of the jungle’s sweetest offerings. “Mangoes,” she explained. “I thought since you liked feeding me fruit in the jungle...”
The thoughtfulness of the gesture struck me deeply. She remembered.
I took the fruit, spearing a cube with a careful claw. “Perfect,” I murmured, bringing the small piece to her lips.
She accepted the offering, juice glistening on her lips as she chewed. I leaned forward to taste the sweetness directly from her mouth, kissing her deeply as I positioned her more firmly above me.
“Now,” I growled against her lips. “Take me inside you.”
She sank down slowly, her body stretching to accommodate my size, her breath hitching as I filled her completely. The tight heat of her engulfed me, drawing a rumbling groan from deep in my chest.
“So full,” she gasped, adjusting to the intrusion. “You feel so good.”
I held her still for a moment, allowing her body to accept me, feeding her another piece of mango to distract from any discomfort. The sight of her—flushed, eyes half-closed in pleasure, juice running down her chin as she straddled me—nearly undid my control.
“Move,” I urged, gripping her hips to guide her. “Ride me, kassari.”
She began a slow rhythm, rising and falling on my length with increasing confidence. I continued feeding her small bites of the fruit, the combination of watching her eat from my hand while taking me inside her body creating a powerful sense of possession.
“Mine,” I growled, unable to stop the declaration as her pace quickened.
“Yours,” she agreed, her inner walls clenching around me with each downward motion. “Only yours, Lor.”
I thrust up to meet her movements, driving deeper with each stroke. My hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve, every response. When I felt her beginning to tire, I took control, gripping her hips firmly and setting a more demanding pace.
“Yes,” she moaned, head falling back, exposing the junction of her neck and shoulder where my mark belonged. “Please, Lor. Harder.”
