Taken and Teased

Chapter 8 - Fek

Whipping around before I ruin our chance at leaving the room decently dressed, I grab the contraption meant to go under her shirt and toss it to the floor. The shirt disappears under mine as I soak it with my scent, giving it an extra pass since it'll be nearest her face. I want her to scent me with every breath, no matter what happens.

She gathers her hair after I lower the fabric over her head, then lifts her arms and aids me in dressing her.

A small smile tilts her lips, but she hides it behind the collar as she nuzzles the inside of the neckline.

I swallow and hold my hands in fists by my sides, second guessing my decision to deny her the bra. Even though the thick fabric of her shirt hangs loose around her frame, her erect nipples make a faint and yet all too enticing outline.

She drops the collar into place and slices my soul to pieces with her earnest expression.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"It's like a shield. Protection. I love it."

"You love wearing my scent?"

"Yes, very much so."

My purr charges the air around us, but I ease the sound to a soft rumble when her pupils grow and her cheeks pinken.

I turn away before I get lost in her perfection, urging her to sit on the bed and lift her left foot. She sits, sniffing her collar every now and then as I put plain white socks and shoes on her.

When I stand and grab the bottom hem of my ripped shirt, she darts to her feet and wraps both of her hands around my left wrist.

"Let me. Please."

I nod, unable to deny her what she wants, especially when she begs so beautifully. She tugs me to the bed and uses gentle touches to guide me into sitting on the edge.

My tongue sneaks out, tracing my upper lip and imagining it as her soft flesh as she lifts my replacement shirt off the bed.

I sit as still as stone and watch in rapture as she rubs her face on the soft material, her eyes trained on mine. Almost in slow motion, she tucks my shirt under her collar and feeds it into her own. My heart pounds against my sternum as she reaches up under the bottom hem of her shirt and cups her breast, my trapped shirt pillowing out around her fingers.

She soaks my new garment in her pheromones, her sensuality both erotic and elegant. My purr deepens, quickening her breaths as she caresses her nipples with my shirt trapped under her hands. When she pulls my replacement shirt out and settles it over my head, I lean forward and flick my tongue over her parted lips, enjoying the way she inhales in surprise.

My hands wrap around her hips without my permission.

"Mine."

"Yours."

Her breathy response makes my hard cock kick within my soaked pants.

She leans sideways and retrieves my clean trousers, keeping eye contact with me the entire time she marks them. I dig my fingers into the curve of her ass, sweating with the effort of not rutting her on the floor. She kneads and grinds my trousers on her stomach and breasts, letting her own shirt hang loose around her body, hiding her ministrations from me.

A warning sneaks into my purr. I want to see.

Her hands lower. The sound of her belt popping free and zipper sliding down digs my fingertips into her flesh so hard she'll no doubt have bruises. The thought tempers my need, but the moment I loosen my fingers, she moans.