His Lycan Princess | 18+

Mated Under the Moon

He was unlike anything I anticipated, unlike any prejudice, superstition, expectation, or desire the Slevorian women created for me every time they tossed around the word “werewolf.” He was petrifying, primal, powerful. He was beautiful in a threatening way, like thunderstorms and hurricanes and crashing waves. Able to charm and ruin all the same. He wasn’t like anyone else in this vast world.

He was unique, compelling, downright otherworldly.

A true masterpiece.

I knew I should be scared, but I couldn’t quite manage it. I was intrigued. I licked my lips and he followed the movement. Some of his features were beastly, but others hinted at the man hidden underneath. His eyes, a vivid yellow, gleamed with an intensity that held me captive. And at that moment, I was his. Would he be mine? Could… could I tame him? I kept starring. Veins cascaded down his neck, his shoulders were square and wide, like a warrior’s. Was he? Each muscle in his lean body was carved from stone and there was plenty of muscle definition on his chiseled chest and stomach, drawing my eye down, down, down, to where his c**k jutted forth.

Fuck.

It was the size of my forearm!

I was in so much trouble.

I started to cover myself, but he caught my wrists, easily overpowering me. He did a long inhale and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he was scenting my arousal. The hot moist I was trying to hide. I pressed my thighs together and tried to push him away. He shifted my wrists to one hand and reached for me. Closer, closer.

“Wait!” I said. “Wait, wait. We shouldn’t–”

He didn’t release me, he didn’t even wait long enough for me to finish my sentence. He buried his head in my neck and inhaled deeply. I let out a surprised yelp, but quickly went silent as his muzzle moved a little lower to where the sheer fabric of the gown covered my breasts. His breath was warm and wet and it made my already firm and stiffened n*****s prickle more. The sheer fabric rubbed against them and only worsened the sensation, the titillation was unbearable. The werewolf’s deep exhale made the fabric fly aside, fully exposing my left breast. The air sent a thrill creeping up my shoulders.

“Oh,” I drew a gasp. He gave my skin a soft nibble and moved a little lower, still tracking, searching for what he had smelled on me earlier. The most unmistakable evidence of my longing. For him. The feeling of his face – or his snout – against my skin, the cool damp of his nose on me was like kissing.

He kneeled before me and the swelling thickness that I felt on the inside of my legs intensified when he moved between them and pushed my thighs apart. He stuck his snout where my thighs met.

“Why are you doing this?” I said, somehow, through my chattering teeth.

“Shh,” he whispered gently. The warmth of his breath against my skin short circuited my brain. His tongue, long, wet, adept and a little rough, stroked my p***y, tasting me, exploring, moving a little deeper each time. I tensed up, the hair on my neck standing up. This felt good, so, so good!

“Oh my!” I rocked my hips instinctively as if in invitation, following the movements of his head, seeing what that would do to my stimuli. He grabbed my ass and held me firmly. His teeth grazing my engorged c**t, his tongue forcing my labia apart to get to my slick core. His mouth kept moving, drinking my juice, relishing the taste of me.

I clawed at his fur, desperately trying to stay upright while my knees buckled. I bit my bottom lip as he moved down my body and I knew I should argue more, should never have let the word leave my lips, but he gave my p***y another of those light strokes and I lost it.

“Please,” I whispered. I wasn’t even sure what it was that I was begging for, for him to stop or not stop. For him to f**k me. It didn’t matter. A blazing fire of desire had ignited inside me, burning everything in its path, all hesitation, all worry, leaving nothing but pleasure behind. The sensation in the depths of my being was tantalizing. My heart raced, and every inch of my skin seemed to come alive under his touch. I threw my head back, my long auburn hair tickling my back, my breath quickened, and I clung to him. My fingers tangled in his bloody fur until our connection reached its peak. In that sacred moment, my senses exploded with ecstasy and I came. My body shuddered with waves of delight, and I felt myself teetering on the edge of an uncharted abyss.

And just when I thought it was over, the werewolf shifted slightly to the side and stroke, quick as a snake, sinking his fangs into the sensitive skin of my upper thigh. I sobbed and my fingers curled, grabbing his fur harder, pushing him away. He opened his mouth and licked the bloody bite mark he had given me. The red wound healed in an instant, leaving behind the shape of his jaws. Two silver crescent moons staring at each other. Like lovers in the sky.

He marked me.

He stood up again, and looked straight into my soul.

“Mate,” he growled. “Mine.”

I couldn’t tell what was to blame. Maybe it was exhaustion, the consequence of the beating I got earlier when the troll bashed my head against the ground, maybe it was the exquisite sensation and the daze my first orgasm had caused, or the bite mark. Whatever it was, I suddenly got dizzy. The world spun around me and my vision blurred. I fainted, surrendering to the darkness.

At last.