She was natural, lustful, and sexual. She was perfect. And I was pleasing her, serving her even as I used her like a toy for my own appetite. I let the haze of covetous hunger rise in me for the first time in years, just a fraction, and growled. I slid my clawed thumb to her clit and tortured it with rough swirls. She came again with a shout, strangling my swollen stav, strangling my cock, and somehow my own breath too.

We'd barely begun our work. I had five days to use this woman in every way she would let me, and the ideas began to stir faster now in my head, her wishes and my own cravings mingling. But first, I would surrender with her.

I dove down, releasing her legs to let them twine around my broad frame, and gripped her face in my free hand, still working her clit with my other. Her mouth opened on a cry and then was full of my tongue, my roar of satisfaction, stroking and releasing into her lips as I did the same into her sex. She moaned and suckled my tongue, tying her legs as tight as she could around my back and milking my swollen cock of the last of my seed.

The last of it for the moment, at least. I would have more use of her—need of her—soon. Of that, I had no doubt.

CHAPTER 6

Sunny

I woke on the mattress of the four-poster bed. Light filtered through linen curtains pulled shut, and the first thing I noticed was the padded cuff around my ankle as I tried to roll. It held me in place and my breath hitched, my tender sex giving a surprising clench of pleasure that refreshed my memory of the rather stunning orgasms I'd already had.

And so many.

I turned my face into the pillow beneath my cheek and sucked in a deep breath, grinning against the fabric. I'd done it. I'd…I'd loved it. From the sound of the chains, to the bite of his claws in my flesh, to the growl of his voice as he'd told me how to behave. To the incredible, explosive, toe-curling and muscle-straining pleasure as I'd come on that magical cock.

Secret moments of touching myself to these thoughts, finding guilty release in fantasies and not my actual partner, had not just been something to imagine, to cope with boredom, but real cravings. I'd wasted years—for Harry and for myself—but not a lifetime.