Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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Lust was an arid sandstorm filling my chest, searing outward like turbulent wind whipping sand that flayed every inch of my flesh, pinching my nipples to hard points in my cheap white bra as blazing dry heat scorched a straight line, down, down, down to there...and my inner sex ached and pulsed, hungry for friction, for fulfillment, faster, faster, faster. In sweet horror I realized Mr. Whiskers had me so turned on, my body was balanced on the knife point of a climax.
"Standing there in your ugly avant-garde dress with your innocent Bambi eyes," he growled. His breath and gruff voice was a weapon he used against me. "And that godsdamned sassy mouth of yours, I'm dying to see what else it's good for." The raw need in his voice spoke the truth. Lightning threatened, not outside but in the room, crackling through the cool moist air. "Tabby cat..." he rumbled once more. The sonorous vibration of his voice sparked against my inner ear, and this time I couldn't stop the desperate moan from escaping my throat. "How about you sink your claws and fangs into me," he hissed, and then he sucked my earlobe into his hot, wet mouth.
It was a sensory overload. I was swallowed whole by his enormous body and his indelible scent, the bristles scratching my throat, his hot breath and carnal sucking on my ear, the lick of his tongue, the heated words. It was too much...too much... I was nudged over into that place of blinding-white pleasure when that hard length, hot, even through the layer of the ugly dress and his pants, the imprint of a hard zipper pressed against my soft stomach, ground against me in a torturous movement, seeking friction. My swollen, greedy sex exploded with an electrifying pulse. And I tipped over the edge and free-fell.
The climax crashed through me and scoured every single inch of my body. I squeezed my eyes shut and collapsed against the wall, suffocating under the intensity of the orgasm surging through me, and rode out the pleasure in tumultuous cresting waves. I couldn't stop the strangled cry from leaving my mouth. Or how my fingers bit into his biceps as if my life depended on it. Or the low, strained groan as my quaking knees buckled beneath me, and the messy words that kept pouring from my mouth "Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygodsohmygods..."
I was only half aware of the hands that grabbed hold of my waist. I was dazed, unable to even focus as the orgasm finally began to recede and I was left lax and useless, as if I'd tumbled down the slope of a coastal dune. I blinked blearily, panting down sharp, ragged breaths.
"Holy hellsgate," Mr. Whiskers breathed as he righted me, and held me steady as I wobbled and swayed. He leaned back to look at me better, wide-eyed. "Did you just—"
"No!" I shrieked, mortified.
He arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing me.
"No, maybe...alright YES!" My shoulders slumped. "Ugh...yes..." I admitted, too humiliated to even look at him. Swiping the tendrils of hair from my flushed face, I tried to regain my breath and release all the pent-energy that had my body still zinging with aftershocks, to make sense of what had just happened. Not even the spray of the shower head between my legs, stolen in brief harried moments in the bathroom, had ever given me that kind of orgasm.
