Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
It’s Valen’s Drake.
He’s been made small somehow—well, smaller than his usual cavern-filling size. He’s not quite as small as he was when I used the magic of the ring on him in the Sorceress’s banquet hall, but he’s not too big to climb onto the dark platform with me—which is what he does.
His movements are sinuous…powerful, each muscle coiling beneath scales that glow like banked coals—a deep, pulsating crimson. His wings are folded sleek against his sides, and his long tail lashes once, a whip-crack of contained energy.
The Irena on the platform turns her head and sees him in all his glory. Her eyes—my eyes—are wide, not with fear, but with a dazed, hungry wonder. She watches as he bends his long, elegant neck, bringing his massive head down between her splayed thighs.
He presses his warm, scaled muzzle against the soft curve of her bottom and inhales deeply, a shudder running the length of his spine. The sound is a low, rumbling purr of pure male appreciation.
Irena on the platform doesn’t try to get away. Instead, to my shock, she spreads her thighs wider, tilting her hips up and back in an unmistakable offering. I can plainly see that her pussy is on full display—pink and glistening wet—the outer lips already swollen and parted, revealing the darker, needy flesh within. A single bead of moisture gathers at her entrance and drips onto the dark stone below.
The Drake responds to her obvious need with animal lust, but I can feel the sentience beneath his beastly exterior. I can feel his desire for her—for me—and his sense that she is offering herself to him.
“Mine!” he growls, the vibration palpable even across the room.
His forked tongue—long and surprisingly agile—emerges from his mouth. It’s a deep, dusky pink, and it flicks out once…twice, tasting the air just above her heat. Then he lowers his head and licks her—a broad, flat stroke from her entrance all the way up to her clit that makes the Irena on the platform jerk and cry out—a sharp, wanton sound.
He does it again, and again, bathing her exposed pussy with long, slow, deliberate laps of his tongue that have her moaning and writhing—pushing her hips back against the relentless pressure. He fucks her with his tongue, the forked tips probing her entrance, spreading her open, lapping up her slickness with greedy, wet sounds.
As I watch, I feel wetness between my own thighs. Watching this reminds me of how Valen tasted me last night…of how hot he made me before he let me come.
But there is more to come. Tasting me—or her—seems to have aroused the Drake even more. The scaly pouch between his hind legs quivers, then distends. I watch, mesmerized and horrified, as his cock emerges.
It’s a slow unveiling of primal anatomy. The thick, ridged shaft is a shade darker than his belly scales and it’s already fully erect—jutting out from its sheath with a formidable, veined weight. The head is a pronounced, flared plum shape, slick with his own lubricant. It’s monstrous…impossible for someone my size—her size—to take.
I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper. How can she—I—possibly accommodate that thick club of flesh? But the Irena in this vision doesn’t seem worried. In fact, a low, desperate moan is pulled from her throat, and she pushes back against him, rocking her hips, presenting her dripping slit directly for his broad crown. It’s more than an invitation…her gestures are a wordless plea.
She wants him to fill her.
The Drake needs no further encouragement. He mounts her in one fluid, powerful motion. His huge forepaws—claws carefully sheathed—come to rest on her shoulders.
I can see that he’s being gentle—or as gentle as such a huge beast can be. He’s not pinning her down—he’s claiming her.
His weight settles over her, not crushing, but enveloping her much smaller body with his own. I see the enormous shaft, bobbing heavily, nudge between her spread legs. The slick, plum-shaped head finds her entrance—his wetness against her own—and begins to press inside.
I bite back a gasp as I watch her take him. The stretch is visible—almost obscene. Her tight little hole spreads wide around the invading girth, straining to accommodate him.
A thin, high whimper escapes her, but she doesn't falter. She pushes back—meeting the pressure, taking more and more of the thick club of flesh into her tightly stretched channel. Inch by impossible inch, he sinks into her—the ridges of his shaft sliding one by one inside her as he buries himself deeper in her pussy.
I watch in disbelief, a hand flying to my own stomach, as I see her belly bulge with the outline of the monstrous cock penetrating her. A distinct, rounded shape presses against the soft flesh of her lower abdomen—living proof of the depth of his possession of her.
The Irena on the platform is utterly impaled…filled beyond reason.