Dain leaned forward and pressed his open mouth to me, running his tongue along my folds with a low moan. Heat blazed through me at the contact, my head dropping back as a sharp sound of pleasure shuddered its way out of my throat. Oh, my God, he felt incredible, the heat of his mouth making everything flare and throb. He moved his mouth and tongue with slow deliberation, and without even thinking about it I angled his head using his horns, putting his tongue directly on my clit.

At my encouraging whine, my prince started moving faster, his tongue pressing against me in slow sweeps. He used the fork of his tongue to frame me, giving me pressure on all sides, an endless heated press of sensation far better than any head I'd ever gotten before. Glittering pleasure gathered inside of me, all warmth and liquid tension, radiating out into my body like the warmth of the sun. The quiet sorrows held me back from the precipice of the soulmate bond, but my body had no such compunctions, and I responded to Dain with all of my wanton desire.

He shifted his head slightly as he moved his tongue, and I couldn't stop myself from following that motion with my hips, rocking up against him as I gasped out my pleasure for him. Dain started growling, a rolling sound that rose and fell as he moved, like a predator at his kill. The sound sent a flush of adrenaline desire along my skin, the hairs on my arms lifting in anticipation, and I closed my eyes so I could focus on nothing else but the sound of him, the hot press of his mouth, the tension inside of me that begged for release.

"Dain," I gasped out. "I want your fingers inside me."

My soulmate shuddered his desire, moaning against me as the rising music wound around us. He shifted, leaving both hands wrapped around my thighs as he moved one of his wing-arms underneath him. I cried out in pleasure as the tips of his claws touched me, the deadly talons glamored blunt, my thighs tightening around Dain's face. He flexed his arms and dragged my legs apart again, the strain of my muscles making my core taut and desperate for pressure.

Without changing his rhythm at all, Dain pressed the tips of two of his wing-fingers against the wet of me, then slid them inside of me, pressing up towards my navel as he did. I practically bucked my hips off of the throne as he did, the pressure perfect, his tongue moving with insistent demand against my throbbing clit. Whether it was a century of one-night stands or an innate knowledge of my body – or both – didn't matter. Dain knew exactly how to touch me, and he did it relentlessly, finger-fucking me in rhythm with his tongue as he curled his fingers so that they dragged over my g-spot each time with a surge of heat.