The Lion and the Mouse by Emmy Chandler

Author:Emmy Chandler [Chandler, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emerson Ink
Published: 2019-10-21T16:00:00+00:00

10

Syrie

Exhausted, I collapse against the table for the third time in the past hour. My elbows and hips are bruised, and I’m pretty sure I’ve only avoided getting splinters in my breasts because of the soft pelt I finally thought to ask for several days ago, after the second time Lohr fucked me stupid from behind.

Always from behind. Always on the table.

Holy shit, the man’s stamina is amazing. He may look like a lion, but he screws like a fucking rabbit. As in, all the damn time. I don’t understand how he has time to catch and kill his food, because every time I walk by the table, he’s bending me over it, swiping whatever is on it onto the floor. Food. The scrap of leather he’s been cutting into thin but strong strips. The net he’s repairing. It doesn’t matter. There is nothing Lohr wants to use that table for more than fucking me. If I were going to be here much longer, I’d ask him to build a second one, just for sex.

As it is, I just make sure that we put that pelt down, to protect our food-prep surface. Which Lohr finds highly amusing.

He leans over me and presses a kiss into the center of my spine. His hands wander down from my waist toward my hips, and his tail glides up my thigh. I can feel him everywhere, and I don't think I ever want that to end.

It's strange. I've had several boyfriends since I left home for school, and I even truly cared about a couple of them. But there's never been anything like this in my life. Never anyone like Lohr. I've never wanted to linger after sex, and now I want to, not because I have no choice, but because I want to be close to him. Even if that means lying spread across his table like a one-man feast.

I’m sore, and that has nothing to do with the barbs. True to his word, Lohr hasn’t so much as scratched me with them, and the post-coital cuddling is actually pretty awesome. He purrs, and he fucking pets me. I think he’s still worried I’ll try to pull free and hurt myself, but there’s zero chance of that happening.

“Be still, little mouse," he murmurs against my skin.

“I'm trying," I assure him. But his petting and purring turns me on, which makes me wriggle and clench around him. Which keeps him hard inside me, and keeps his barbs erect. It’s a vicious, if erotic cycle. And he’s flawlessly patient, when I know damn well it would be easier for him to just pull out and let me punch him in the balls—I’ve decided that’s the human version of the Fetoji love bite—so he can take me again in a couple of minutes.

And I have to admit, I’m curious. His barbs don’t actually injure his same-species partners, and I’m pretty sure they won’t actually injure me either. But if I’m wrong…

It’s not worth it. And even if I wanted to try it, he won't take the chance.

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