Zahara cries out. The sound of her fills my ears. The taste of her is on my tongue. My hands are full of her flesh as I hold her still.
I don’t have to move my tongue much. She undulates her hips up and down. It’s a tight rocking as I hold her torso.
I allow her the movements, thrilled to know that she likes what I am doing to her. I could lick her forever. I could gorge myself on the taste of her, the velvety feel of her flesh against my tongue.
The more I lick, the wetter she gets. The wetter she gets, the sweeter she tastes. Yes, this is heaven. I will fight any demon who dares to try to take me back to the hell of my prior existence.
I delve my tongue into her opening, so deep that my nose rests on her clit and my chin on her perineum. Zahara purrs, low and deep, more lioness than kitten. I know the sounds of pleasure, having heard them from women riding my cock. I also know the sounds of pain when they take too much of it. Zahara vocalizes only pleasure.
I push deeper inside, needing to fill her with all that I am. She stills as I swirl my tongue, gathering up every drop of her essence. A gasp fills my ears as she inhales sharply. Then there is a long, deep pulsing of her walls around my tongue. More wetness coats my tongue.
This taste is pure saccharine. It floods my senses and goes straight to my head, giving me a warm brain freeze. But the freeze thaws quickly as I swallow the honey down.
Zahara’s cries continue as her body shivers. For an instant, I’m sure I feel fur and not flesh in my hands. Her moans turn to growls as she crests the height of her pleasure.
My own hips rock into the mattress as the beast demands its due. It moves of its own accord, but the mattress is all it will get. I’m not sharing her with it.
I remove my tongue from her entrance and lap up the juices that have overflowed on her pussy’s lips. My tongue latches onto the bud at the apex of her thighs, and I pull on the engorged flesh I find there.
Zahara cries out, a shuddery sound of pleasure. Her eyes flash that catlike gold at me again. I can see the panther in them, readying to rise. She shuts her eyes, and the image is gone.
I suckle the bud, and more of that exquisite moisture seeps out of her. Again, she is rocking against my tongue. I cover her mons with my entire mouth, and gulp her down.
The next time she cries out, there is a note of pain. I lift my head. Her eyes are glazed as the tremors tighten their hold on her. I know this look, too. She is drunk with pleasure. If I give her more, it could turn painful. I have watched women take more and come out sore. As much as it pains me, I back off from my delectable little treasure.
Bringing Zahara to my chest, I wrap her naked form inside my arms and cradle her. It’s another thing that I have never experienced or have done to another, but I find it easy with her. Her wee body fits against my chest as if I was made for her. I’m coming to believe that I was. For the first time in my life, I feel that I have a sense of purpose.
She may be right. I do have a destiny. It is to pleasure and protect her. It’s a future that I can say I look forward to.
Zahara falls asleep in my arms. My wee kitten can throw a punch, but she can’t hold her pleasure. After her orgasms, she’s out like a young buck who’s busted a nut for the first time.
She curls into me with complete trust as she dozes. I feel strong having this warrior seek comfort in me. I want to give her everything she asks for. Perhaps there is a way for me to do so. There are rumors in the vampire world.
I hold my treasure close to my heart as I think. But the thinking doesn’t get too far. My brain is far too addled for lack of blood. I’ll have to do something about that sooner rather than later if I am to keep my promise of not biting her.
With great reluctance, I move Zahara off my chest and onto the cot. After pulling the sheet over her naked torso, I press a kiss to her temple. She doesn’t stir as I move the door aside and walk out of the room. At the end of the path, I take the right turn that will lead me out of the cave.
Chapter 12
Zahara
My dreams are often those of running. Not those dreams where I’m running from zombies, or ducking to hide my nakedness from my classmates. I wish those were my dreams, but I’ve never been in a formal classroom.
No, my dreams aren’t anything like the human dreams of running away. In my dreams, I run on all fours.
I’m climbing trees. Jumping in the water. My inner cat loves to play. She is often alone, as is the nature of a jaguar.
So it shocks me when I’m standing still in this dream. It shocks me even more that I’m standing on two legs instead of four. My face is tilted up as the sun kisses my eyelids, my nose, my mouth.
Then I feel another kiss. One made of flesh, not sunlight. I turn to find Virius standing in the light of the sun. I am inside the circle of his arms. The heat coming off his flesh rivals that of the sun. The smile on his
