He scoops me into his muscular arms and carries me to the bed, but sets me on the floor when we’re inches away. He pulls off my plain black t-shirt and bra with the utmost care, as if it’s part of a religious rite. Perhaps it is.
Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of my pants and panties, he sweeps them down and pulls them off me, letting them lie on the floor near my top.
He takes my hand and leads us to the bed, making certain that we're both even, not wanting to take the lead tonight. We’re coming together consciously. Both of us are making the choice to mate for life. It doesn’t scare me like the idea of ‘until death do you part’ did on Earth. I welcome it.
I lie on the bed and he straddles my waist. While kissing and nibbling my throat, he arouses the hardened nubs of my breasts until I’m incapable of thought. Then he places himself at my entrance. I’m so slick, so ready, he could slide in to the hilt in one swift move.
But it isn’t like that tonight. He thrusts so slowly I can feel each of his bulges as they breach my entrance.
“That’s right, Bayne. Welcome home.” I glance at him and catch the smile that flickers on his lips. This male loves me, and my acceptance of him and everything he is is magic. For both of us.
He develops a rhythm so slow it’s maddening, but like everything else tonight, I embrace it.
I feel the tingle of impending orgasm whirling in my belly. He feels it too, or maybe it’s his sixth sense. Instead of forging ahead, though, he slows, then stops and drops a kiss on my lips.
“This way,” he says as he pulls out long enough to flip me over onto my stomach, then lifts me by my hip bones.
Of course, I should have known this would be doggy style. How fitting.
He slides back into me in one quick thrust as if we were never apart. The moment changes. Instead of feeling like we should be in a cathedral, we’re solidly in lust territory now. The long, slow thrusts are a memory as he slams into me. Only one hand holds me up from under my stomach, he’s using the other to circle my clit.
My orgasm is building, and I can tell it’s going to be a lightning storm of need and pleasure. Then his jaw clamps onto my shoulder. At first, his teeth are covered by his warm lips, but when I begin rocking back against him, trying to bury him into the depths of me, he exposes them and the sharp tips of his fangs make themselves known.
It pricks. I wouldn’t even call it pain. I’m not sure this is the bite he warned me about, or if there’s more to come.
My orgasm is swirling and building, ready to explode, and I hear my own grunts as I press back against him as hard as I can, trying to push myself over the edge.
When the first spasm starts, his teeth press more deeply into my flesh. He warned me, and he was right. It hurts. The pain is so sharp my orgasm decides to retreat for a second. Then an explosion of bliss blasts through me.
It’s so powerful that if one of his arms wasn’t still holding me up I would collapse on the bed. White lightning flashes inside my head. I feel it in my brain, which detonates pleasure bombs exploding in chain reactions from the top of my head to the soles of my feet.
I was so busy rocketing to the clouds that I missed his ejaculation, but I realize now that he came a moment ago. I feel his warmth inside me—liquid proof that what just happened was real.
It’s his saliva, or maybe his come or maybe the combination that set off an atomic bomb of bliss inside me. It doesn’t matter. It’s rapture. It’s heaven. It’s more pleasure than the human mind could imagine. He releases his teeth from my shoulder and licks the spot with soothing strokes even though the pain has long since vanished.
That good, Love?
“Wh-What?”
Just feel, my beautiful Willa. Just feel.
My internal muscles are still spasming as I’m dancing in the clouds when I realize my mate just spoke to me inside my head.
I love you, Bayne. Give me just a moment to enjoy every second of this.
And he does, still pumping into me in little pulses, drawing out the aftershocks of my pleasure. We’re tied. I love this part. The enforced strokes and cuddles and the biologically imposed intimacy.
Biology doesn’t have to force me to love you and stroke you, mate. I would do that whether we were tied or not.
Although I’m still panting, I’m breathing slower, deeper, returning to the here and now.
Precious, he says.
Beloved is my response. When do I turn into a canine? I was scared to death of it, but now I can’t wait.
When he doesn’t respond, I glance over my shoulder to look at him.
With Skylosians you would have turned by now, Love.
A wave of sadness unexpectedly gusts over me. We’re so connected—mentally and physically—that I can’t differentiate whether this is his sorrow or my own.
I’m so blessed to have you as a mate, Willa. I’m not sad.
We have a lot to learn, Bayne. The first thing I’m learning is that it’s going to be hard to lie to each other. You’re sad, so am I. It’s okay to admit it.
“Let’s give it time, Love. You’re not Skylosian.”
The swelling of his penis reduces, and he pulls out so he can turn me in his arms. He kisses my forehead as if I’m the most precious
