Smiling into his answer, brushing his lips over hers he whispered, “Then get paint on me.”

A warm tongue slipped in her mouth, Shepherd held her tightly… but she did not kiss him back.

His lips traced her jaw, tasted her neck, nibbled at her ear while her eyes were on the portrait on the table.

“Kiss me, little one,” he murmured against her skin, smirking as he purred.

“No.”

The monster softly laughed and retook her mouth with passion, bowing her body until the table met her back. The paints were under her, their color seeping into her dress. Shepherd didn’t care; all he wanted was his mouth on her body.

Fabric tore under his hands, her dress split down the middle.

“The paints,” Claire gasped, worried they were being ruined, trying to wriggle off her things.

“Are nothing compared to this.” The man fumbled with his zipper, groaning as he nosed her breast.

Lips were at her nipple, his tongue flicking the bud before he moved lower and pressed his mouth to her mound. He attacked her there, tasting a place he had not enjoyed since he’d collected her from the Omegas. Claire tried to push him off, squealed as her legs kicked, but Shepherd held firm.

Leaning up on her elbows, Claire’s jaw dropped, her hips jerking to escape something so intimate. He watched her every expression, all the while thrashing his tongue in her pussy and releasing his cock from his pants.

When her legs began to twitch, her breaths nothing but stifled gasps of air, he drank her up, seeming to know just where to move that tongue until Claire’s face grew pained and she began to come. A shriek, short and stuttering, passed her lips as the tight winding coil the man had fostered snapped apart. In answer, Shepherd grunted into her, wove his tongue deep, stroking himself madly under the table.

Her groans grew rabid, his fist tightly gripping his burgeoning knot until seed splattered the floor. Air ripe with the smell of semen, he rode the high, tenderly kissing Claire’s inner thighs and mumbling that she tasted delicious.

Falling back against the table, Claire stared blankly at the memorized grey ceiling, trying to ignore that her thighs were on his shoulders, that he was licking her clean, and that he had, once again, expertly commanded her body’s response… as Svana had claimed the two of them had done to other Omegas.

That thought brought blistering heat to her chest, the painful knowledge inspiring instant anguish.

“What is wrong, little one?” Shepherd pulled his tongue from her slit. “I did not mount you. That should not have caused you pain.”

Claire answered robotically. “It didn’t hurt.”

More soft kisses to her inner thigh and a strong purr preceded the promise, “I will replace your paints. You need not feel distressed.”