Kate Hart

And your dragon noticed. Of course, he noticed.

His massive head had lifted from where it rested against the piled furs and gold that made up his nest, those enormous, slit-pupilled eyes fixing on you with that knowing gleam. A rumbling moan had rolled through his chest, the kind of sound that made your core clench and your breath catch.

"Little mate," he'd rumbled, the bass of his voice making your toes curl. "You're restless."

You'd tried to deny it. Tried to squeeze your thighs together and pretend that you weren't absolutely aching, that your clit wasn't swollen and throbbing, that your pussy wasn't slick and needy.

But he'd just made that sexy sound again and lifted one of his enormous foreclaws until the polished, obsidian-black surface of it was within reach.

"Come here."

Now you're straddling the top of his foreclaw, your legs spread, your dripping pussy rubbing down that blessedly smooth, cool surface. His claw was the size of your entire torso, the top of it rounded and polished and it felt—

"F-fuck," you gasped, rocking your hips forward, dragging your aching clit across the smooth surface. "Fuck."

The sensation was incredible. Riding the top of his claw was one of your favorite activities. It was perfect for stimulating your aching clit. There was no roughness, no dangerous edge, just that warm, glassy surface that glided against your swollen flesh with every movement.

You rocked forward again, harder this time, and the pressure against your clit made your vision blur.

"That's it," he rumbled. "Ride it, little mate. I've been watching you squirm all morning. I know what you need."

"B-bastard," you gasped, but there was no heat in it. "You've been— ahh—you've been torturing me."

His claw shifted slightly under you, tilting, and the new angle brushed against your clit exactly right. A strangled sound punched from your throat as you rode higher and higher.

"I wasn't torturing you," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I was giving you time to work up the courage to ask. You get so shy sometimes, even after all these years."

You wanted to argue.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't get shy, that you were not some blushing virgin, that you'd taken his cock more times than you could count and loved every single inch of it. But then you rocked your hips again, grinding down against that claw, and all thoughts dissolved.

"Nnngh—"

"There she is," he drawled, and one of his enormous paws lifted (the one not currently serving as your makeshift toy), cradling your back for balance. "There's my greedy little thing. Are you close already, pet?"

You couldn't answer. Your mouth was hanging open, sounds falling out of it that you couldn't control; moans and little high-pitched gasps that didn't sound anything like language. Your hips were moving frantically now, chasing that pressure, that friction, that perfect drag against your swollen clit.

"Nnng—! Yes—I—"

"So soon?" His head lowered, that massive snout coming closer until you could feel his breath washing over your skin. "I haven't even said anything dirty yet."

"Please—"

"Please, what?"

Your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping wet, your slick smeared across the surface of his claw as you rocked against it.

"Please," you gasped. "Please, I need— I need you to—speak to me... I need that dirty mouth..."

"Such a good little thing," he rumbled. "Riding my claw, creamy little pussy making a mess. I love watching you like this. You're so beautiful when you're desperate."

The paw at your back curled more firmly against your back, keeping you in place as he moved his foreclaw again, angling it, pressing the rounded top against your clit and the swollen, slick folds of your cunt.

"There—yes—"

"Ride my claw, pet," he commanded. "Use it. Rub that pussy raw. I want to feel you come all over my claw."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Hips snapping forward, you ground and rocked, every movement sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your pussy was so wet that you could hear it, the wet sounds of your slick smearing against his claw.

"That's it," he growled. "Like that, little mate. You're almost there."

"Nnng—!"

"Poor baby... You want to come, don't you?" His voice was a dark murmur. "I can see it in the way you're moving. That frantic rhythm. You're so close it's hurting you. That clit must be throbbing so hard."

"Please," you sobbed. "Please, please, let me—"

"You want to come all over my claw, pretty little thing?"

"Yes—"

"Then do it. Gush all over me."

Your orgasm ripped through you. Your whole body seized, your back arching, your head bending, keening cries tearing out of your throat. Your clit pulsed and your pussy gushed, a rush of heat spilling out, coating his claw in your release.

"Fuuuuck—!"

This time, he took control, shifting your body on his claw, like a ragdoll, rubbing your swollen clit and pussy all over his claw. Waves of pleasure crashed through you; you couldn't stop; your orgasm kept rolling, kept pulsing, until you were a trembling, crying mess.

"Good girl." His voice was a deep, possessive growl. "Squirting all over me. Marking me."

You couldn't answer. Your body was buzzing, your throat was raw and your pussy was still pulsing with the aftershocks of your release. But you managed a weak sound of agreement, and that was enough.

Carefully, he scooped you up and cradled you in his scaled chest. Through hazy eyes, you could see your cum coating his claw, your dragon's massive, forked tongue dragging across the slick. The sight was so sexy that your sore pussy gave another weak pulse.

"Mmm," he hummed. "Sweet cunt juice. So sweet, little mate. I never get tired of tasting you. Now let me taste it straight from the source."

His head lowered, and his forked tongue flicked out, smearing across your spread thighs and between your pussy lips. He lapped you up hungrily, and you kept producing more, shaking and shattering in two more climaxes.

"You're so beautiful," he rumbled later. "My sweet, greedy little mate."

You didn't have the energy to do more than hum in response, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest.

And your dragon noticed. Of course, he noticed.

His massive head had lifted from where it rested against the piled furs and gold that made up his nest, those enormous, slit-pupilled eyes fixing on you with that knowing gleam. A rumbling moan had rolled through his chest, the kind of sound that made your core clench and your breath catch.

"Little mate," he'd rumbled, the bass of his voice making your toes curl. "You're restless."

You'd tried to deny it. Tried to squeeze your thighs together and pretend that you weren't absolutely aching, that your clit wasn't swollen and throbbing, that your pussy wasn't slick and needy.

But he'd just made that sexy sound again and lifted one of his enormous foreclaws until the polished, obsidian-black surface of it was within reach.

"Come here."

Now you're straddling the top of his foreclaw, your legs spread, your dripping pussy rubbing down that blessedly smooth, cool surface. His claw was the size of your entire torso, the top of it rounded and polished and it felt—

"F-fuck," you gasped, rocking your hips forward, dragging your aching clit across the smooth surface. "Fuck."

The sensation was incredible. Riding the top of his claw was one of your favorite activities. It was perfect for stimulating your aching clit. There was no roughness, no dangerous edge, just that warm, glassy surface that glided against your swollen flesh with every movement.

You rocked forward again, harder this time, and the pressure against your clit made your vision blur.

"That's it," he rumbled. "Ride it, little mate. I've been watching you squirm all morning. I know what you need."

"B-bastard," you gasped, but there was no heat in it. "You've been— ahh—you've been torturing me."

His claw shifted slightly under you, tilting, and the new angle brushed against your clit exactly right. A strangled sound punched from your throat as you rode higher and higher.

"I wasn't torturing you," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I was giving you time to work up the courage to ask. You get so shy sometimes, even after all these years."

You wanted to argue.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't get shy, that you were not some blushing virgin, that you'd taken his cock more times than you could count and loved every single inch of it. But then you rocked your hips again, grinding down against that claw, and all thoughts dissolved.

"Nnngh—"

"There she is," he drawled, and one of his enormous paws lifted (the one not currently serving as your makeshift toy), cradling your back for balance. "There's my greedy little thing. Are you close already, pet?"

You couldn't answer. Your mouth was hanging open, sounds falling out of it that you couldn't control; moans and little high-pitched gasps that didn't sound anything like language. Your hips were moving frantically now, chasing that pressure, that friction, that perfect drag against your swollen clit.

"Nnng—! Yes—I—"

"So soon?" His head lowered, that massive snout coming closer until you could feel his breath washing over your skin. "I haven't even said anything dirty yet."

"Please—"

"Please, what?"

Your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping wet, your slick smeared across the surface of his claw as you rocked against it.

"Please," you gasped. "Please, I need— I need you to—speak to me... I need that dirty mouth..."

"Such a good little thing," he rumbled. "Riding my claw, creamy little pussy making a mess. I love watching you like this. You're so beautiful when you're desperate."

The paw at your back curled more firmly against your back, keeping you in place as he moved his foreclaw again, angling it, pressing the rounded top against your clit and the swollen, slick folds of your cunt.

"There—yes—"

"Ride my claw, pet," he commanded. "Use it. Rub that pussy raw. I want to feel you come all over my claw."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Hips snapping forward, you ground and rocked, every movement sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your pussy was so wet that you could hear it, the wet sounds of your slick smearing against his claw.

"That's it," he growled. "Like that, little mate. You're almost there."

"Nnng—!"

"Poor baby... You want to come, don't you?" His voice was a dark murmur. "I can see it in the way you're moving. That frantic rhythm. You're so close it's hurting you. That clit must be throbbing so hard."

"Please," you sobbed. "Please, please, let me—"

"You want to come all over my claw, pretty little thing?"

"Yes—"

"Then do it. Gush all over me."

Your orgasm ripped through you. Your whole body seized, your back arching, your head bending, keening cries tearing out of your throat. Your clit pulsed and your pussy gushed, a rush of heat spilling out, coating his claw in your release.

"Fuuuuck—!"

This time, he took control, shifting your body on his claw, like a ragdoll, rubbing your swollen clit and pussy all over his claw. Waves of pleasure crashed through you; you couldn't stop; your orgasm kept rolling, kept pulsing, until you were a trembling, crying mess.

"Good girl." His voice was a deep, possessive growl. "Squirting all over me. Marking me."

You couldn't answer. Your body was buzzing, your throat was raw and your pussy was still pulsing with the aftershocks of your release. But you managed a weak sound of agreement, and that was enough.

Carefully, he scooped you up and cradled you in his scaled chest. Through hazy eyes, you could see your cum coating his claw, your dragon's massive, forked tongue dragging across the slick. The sight was so sexy that your sore pussy gave another weak pulse.

"Mmm," he hummed. "Sweet cunt juice. So sweet, little mate. I never get tired of tasting you. Now let me taste it straight from the source."

His head lowered, and his forked tongue flicked out, smearing across your spread thighs and between your pussy lips. He lapped you up hungrily, and you kept producing more, shaking and shattering in two more climaxes.

"You're so beautiful," he rumbled later. "My sweet, greedy little mate."

You didn't have the energy to do more than hum in response, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest.

And your dragon noticed. Of course, he noticed.

His massive head had lifted from where it rested against the piled furs and gold that made up his nest, those enormous, slit-pupilled eyes fixing on you with that knowing gleam. A rumbling moan had rolled through his chest, the kind of sound that made your core clench and your breath catch.

"Little mate," he'd rumbled, the bass of his voice making your toes curl. "You're restless."

You'd tried to deny it. Tried to squeeze your thighs together and pretend that you weren't absolutely aching, that your clit wasn't swollen and throbbing, that your pussy wasn't slick and needy.

But he'd just made that sexy sound again and lifted one of his enormous foreclaws until the polished, obsidian-black surface of it was within reach.

"Come here."

Now you're straddling the top of his foreclaw, your legs spread, your dripping pussy rubbing down that blessedly smooth, cool surface. His claw was the size of your entire torso, the top of it rounded and polished and it felt—

"F-fuck," you gasped, rocking your hips forward, dragging your aching clit across the smooth surface. "Fuck."

The sensation was incredible. Riding the top of his claw was one of your favorite activities. It was perfect for stimulating your aching clit. There was no roughness, no dangerous edge, just that warm, glassy surface that glided against your swollen flesh with every movement.

You rocked forward again, harder this time, and the pressure against your clit made your vision blur.

"That's it," he rumbled. "Ride it, little mate. I've been watching you squirm all morning. I know what you need."

"B-bastard," you gasped, but there was no heat in it. "You've been— ahh—you've been torturing me."

His claw shifted slightly under you, tilting, and the new angle brushed against your clit exactly right. A strangled sound punched from your throat as you rode higher and higher.

"I wasn't torturing you," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I was giving you time to work up the courage to ask. You get so shy sometimes, even after all these years."

You wanted to argue.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't get shy, that you were not some blushing virgin, that you'd taken his cock more times than you could count and loved every single inch of it. But then you rocked your hips again, grinding down against that claw, and all thoughts dissolved.

"Nnngh—"

"There she is," he drawled, and one of his enormous paws lifted (the one not currently serving as your makeshift toy), cradling your back for balance. "There's my greedy little thing. Are you close already, pet?"

You couldn't answer. Your mouth was hanging open, sounds falling out of it that you couldn't control; moans and little high-pitched gasps that didn't sound anything like language. Your hips were moving frantically now, chasing that pressure, that friction, that perfect drag against your swollen clit.

"Nnng—! Yes—I—"

"So soon?" His head lowered, that massive snout coming closer until you could feel his breath washing over your skin. "I haven't even said anything dirty yet."

"Please—"

"Please, what?"

Your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping wet, your slick smeared across the surface of his claw as you rocked against it.

"Please," you gasped. "Please, I need— I need you to—speak to me... I need that dirty mouth..."

"Such a good little thing," he rumbled. "Riding my claw, creamy little pussy making a mess. I love watching you like this. You're so beautiful when you're desperate."

The paw at your back curled more firmly against your back, keeping you in place as he moved his foreclaw again, angling it, pressing the rounded top against your clit and the swollen, slick folds of your cunt.

"There—yes—"

"Ride my claw, pet," he commanded. "Use it. Rub that pussy raw. I want to feel you come all over my claw."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Hips snapping forward, you ground and rocked, every movement sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your pussy was so wet that you could hear it, the wet sounds of your slick smearing against his claw.

"That's it," he growled. "Like that, little mate. You're almost there."

"Nnng—!"

"Poor baby... You want to come, don't you?" His voice was a dark murmur. "I can see it in the way you're moving. That frantic rhythm. You're so close it's hurting you. That clit must be throbbing so hard."

"Please," you sobbed. "Please, please, let me—"

"You want to come all over my claw, pretty little thing?"

"Yes—"

"Then do it. Gush all over me."

Your orgasm ripped through you. Your whole body seized, your back arching, your head bending, keening cries tearing out of your throat. Your clit pulsed and your pussy gushed, a rush of heat spilling out, coating his claw in your release.

"Fuuuuck—!"

This time, he took control, shifting your body on his claw, like a ragdoll, rubbing your swollen clit and pussy all over his claw. Waves of pleasure crashed through you; you couldn't stop; your orgasm kept rolling, kept pulsing, until you were a trembling, crying mess.

"Good girl." His voice was a deep, possessive growl. "Squirting all over me. Marking me."

You couldn't answer. Your body was buzzing, your throat was raw and your pussy was still pulsing with the aftershocks of your release. But you managed a weak sound of agreement, and that was enough.

Carefully, he scooped you up and cradled you in his scaled chest. Through hazy eyes, you could see your cum coating his claw, your dragon's massive, forked tongue dragging across the slick. The sight was so sexy that your sore pussy gave another weak pulse.

"Mmm," he hummed. "Sweet cunt juice. So sweet, little mate. I never get tired of tasting you. Now let me taste it straight from the source."

His head lowered, and his forked tongue flicked out, smearing across your spread thighs and between your pussy lips. He lapped you up hungrily, and you kept producing more, shaking and shattering in two more climaxes.

"You're so beautiful," he rumbled later. "My sweet, greedy little mate."

You didn't have the energy to do more than hum in response, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest.

And your dragon noticed. Of course, he noticed.

His massive head had lifted from where it rested against the piled furs and gold that made up his nest, those enormous, slit-pupilled eyes fixing on you with that knowing gleam. A rumbling moan had rolled through his chest, the kind of sound that made your core clench and your breath catch.

"Little mate," he'd rumbled, the bass of his voice making your toes curl. "You're restless."

You'd tried to deny it. Tried to squeeze your thighs together and pretend that you weren't absolutely aching, that your clit wasn't swollen and throbbing, that your pussy wasn't slick and needy.

But he'd just made that sexy sound again and lifted one of his enormous foreclaws until the polished, obsidian-black surface of it was within reach.

"Come here."

Now you're straddling the top of his foreclaw, your legs spread, your dripping pussy rubbing down that blessedly smooth, cool surface. His claw was the size of your entire torso, the top of it rounded and polished and it felt—

"F-fuck," you gasped, rocking your hips forward, dragging your aching clit across the smooth surface. "Fuck."

The sensation was incredible. Riding the top of his claw was one of your favorite activities. It was perfect for stimulating your aching clit. There was no roughness, no dangerous edge, just that warm, glassy surface that glided against your swollen flesh with every movement.

You rocked forward again, harder this time, and the pressure against your clit made your vision blur.

"That's it," he rumbled. "Ride it, little mate. I've been watching you squirm all morning. I know what you need."

"B-bastard," you gasped, but there was no heat in it. "You've been— ahh—you've been torturing me."

His claw shifted slightly under you, tilting, and the new angle brushed against your clit exactly right. A strangled sound punched from your throat as you rode higher and higher.

"I wasn't torturing you," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I was giving you time to work up the courage to ask. You get so shy sometimes, even after all these years."

You wanted to argue.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't get shy, that you were not some blushing virgin, that you'd taken his cock more times than you could count and loved every single inch of it. But then you rocked your hips again, grinding down against that claw, and all thoughts dissolved.

"Nnngh—"

"There she is," he drawled, and one of his enormous paws lifted (the one not currently serving as your makeshift toy), cradling your back for balance. "There's my greedy little thing. Are you close already, pet?"

You couldn't answer. Your mouth was hanging open, sounds falling out of it that you couldn't control; moans and little high-pitched gasps that didn't sound anything like language. Your hips were moving frantically now, chasing that pressure, that friction, that perfect drag against your swollen clit.

"Nnng—! Yes—I—"

"So soon?" His head lowered, that massive snout coming closer until you could feel his breath washing over your skin. "I haven't even said anything dirty yet."

"Please—"

"Please, what?"

Your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping wet, your slick smeared across the surface of his claw as you rocked against it.

"Please," you gasped. "Please, I need— I need you to—speak to me... I need that dirty mouth..."

"Such a good little thing," he rumbled. "Riding my claw, creamy little pussy making a mess. I love watching you like this. You're so beautiful when you're desperate."

The paw at your back curled more firmly against your back, keeping you in place as he moved his foreclaw again, angling it, pressing the rounded top against your clit and the swollen, slick folds of your cunt.

"There—yes—"

"Ride my claw, pet," he commanded. "Use it. Rub that pussy raw. I want to feel you come all over my claw."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Hips snapping forward, you ground and rocked, every movement sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your pussy was so wet that you could hear it, the wet sounds of your slick smearing against his claw.

"That's it," he growled. "Like that, little mate. You're almost there."

"Nnng—!"

"Poor baby... You want to come, don't you?" His voice was a dark murmur. "I can see it in the way you're moving. That frantic rhythm. You're so close it's hurting you. That clit must be throbbing so hard."

"Please," you sobbed. "Please, please, let me—"

"You want to come all over my claw, pretty little thing?"

"Yes—"

"Then do it. Gush all over me."

Your orgasm ripped through you. Your whole body seized, your back arching, your head bending, keening cries tearing out of your throat. Your clit pulsed and your pussy gushed, a rush of heat spilling out, coating his claw in your release.

"Fuuuuck—!"

This time, he took control, shifting your body on his claw, like a ragdoll, rubbing your swollen clit and pussy all over his claw. Waves of pleasure crashed through you; you couldn't stop; your orgasm kept rolling, kept pulsing, until you were a trembling, crying mess.

"Good girl." His voice was a deep, possessive growl. "Squirting all over me. Marking me."

You couldn't answer. Your body was buzzing, your throat was raw and your pussy was still pulsing with the aftershocks of your release. But you managed a weak sound of agreement, and that was enough.

Carefully, he scooped you up and cradled you in his scaled chest. Through hazy eyes, you could see your cum coating his claw, your dragon's massive, forked tongue dragging across the slick. The sight was so sexy that your sore pussy gave another weak pulse.

"Mmm," he hummed. "Sweet cunt juice. So sweet, little mate. I never get tired of tasting you. Now let me taste it straight from the source."

His head lowered, and his forked tongue flicked out, smearing across your spread thighs and between your pussy lips. He lapped you up hungrily, and you kept producing more, shaking and shattering in two more climaxes.

"You're so beautiful," he rumbled later. "My sweet, greedy little mate."

You didn't have the energy to do more than hum in response, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest.

And your dragon noticed. Of course, he noticed.

His massive head had lifted from where it rested against the piled furs and gold that made up his nest, those enormous, slit-pupilled eyes fixing on you with that knowing gleam. A rumbling moan had rolled through his chest, the kind of sound that made your core clench and your breath catch.

"Little mate," he'd rumbled, the bass of his voice making your toes curl. "You're restless."

You'd tried to deny it. Tried to squeeze your thighs together and pretend that you weren't absolutely aching, that your clit wasn't swollen and throbbing, that your pussy wasn't slick and needy.

But he'd just made that sexy sound again and lifted one of his enormous foreclaws until the polished, obsidian-black surface of it was within reach.

"Come here."

Now you're straddling the top of his foreclaw, your legs spread, your dripping pussy rubbing down that blessedly smooth, cool surface. His claw was the size of your entire torso, the top of it rounded and polished and it felt—

"F-fuck," you gasped, rocking your hips forward, dragging your aching clit across the smooth surface. "Fuck."

The sensation was incredible. Riding the top of his claw was one of your favorite activities. It was perfect for stimulating your aching clit. There was no roughness, no dangerous edge, just that warm, glassy surface that glided against your swollen flesh with every movement.

You rocked forward again, harder this time, and the pressure against your clit made your vision blur.

"That's it," he rumbled. "Ride it, little mate. I've been watching you squirm all morning. I know what you need."

"B-bastard," you gasped, but there was no heat in it. "You've been— ahh—you've been torturing me."

His claw shifted slightly under you, tilting, and the new angle brushed against your clit exactly right. A strangled sound punched from your throat as you rode higher and higher.

"I wasn't torturing you," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I was giving you time to work up the courage to ask. You get so shy sometimes, even after all these years."

You wanted to argue.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't get shy, that you were not some blushing virgin, that you'd taken his cock more times than you could count and loved every single inch of it. But then you rocked your hips again, grinding down against that claw, and all thoughts dissolved.

"Nnngh—"

"There she is," he drawled, and one of his enormous paws lifted (the one not currently serving as your makeshift toy), cradling your back for balance. "There's my greedy little thing. Are you close already, pet?"

You couldn't answer. Your mouth was hanging open, sounds falling out of it that you couldn't control; moans and little high-pitched gasps that didn't sound anything like language. Your hips were moving frantically now, chasing that pressure, that friction, that perfect drag against your swollen clit.

"Nnng—! Yes—I—"

"So soon?" His head lowered, that massive snout coming closer until you could feel his breath washing over your skin. "I haven't even said anything dirty yet."

"Please—"

"Please, what?"

Your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping wet, your slick smeared across the surface of his claw as you rocked against it.

"Please," you gasped. "Please, I need— I need you to—speak to me... I need that dirty mouth..."

"Such a good little thing," he rumbled. "Riding my claw, creamy little pussy making a mess. I love watching you like this. You're so beautiful when you're desperate."

The paw at your back curled more firmly against your back, keeping you in place as he moved his foreclaw again, angling it, pressing the rounded top against your clit and the swollen, slick folds of your cunt.

"There—yes—"

"Ride my claw, pet," he commanded. "Use it. Rub that pussy raw. I want to feel you come all over my claw."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Hips snapping forward, you ground and rocked, every movement sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your pussy was so wet that you could hear it, the wet sounds of your slick smearing against his claw.

"That's it," he growled. "Like that, little mate. You're almost there."

"Nnng—!"

"Poor baby... You want to come, don't you?" His voice was a dark murmur. "I can see it in the way you're moving. That frantic rhythm. You're so close it's hurting you. That clit must be throbbing so hard."

"Please," you sobbed. "Please, please, let me—"

"You want to come all over my claw, pretty little thing?"

"Yes—"

"Then do it. Gush all over me."

Your orgasm ripped through you. Your whole body seized, your back arching, your head bending, keening cries tearing out of your throat. Your clit pulsed and your pussy gushed, a rush of heat spilling out, coating his claw in your release.

"Fuuuuck—!"

This time, he took control, shifting your body on his claw, like a ragdoll, rubbing your swollen clit and pussy all over his claw. Waves of pleasure crashed through you; you couldn't stop; your orgasm kept rolling, kept pulsing, until you were a trembling, crying mess.

"Good girl." His voice was a deep, possessive growl. "Squirting all over me. Marking me."

You couldn't answer. Your body was buzzing, your throat was raw and your pussy was still pulsing with the aftershocks of your release. But you managed a weak sound of agreement, and that was enough.

Carefully, he scooped you up and cradled you in his scaled chest. Through hazy eyes, you could see your cum coating his claw, your dragon's massive, forked tongue dragging across the slick. The sight was so sexy that your sore pussy gave another weak pulse.

"Mmm," he hummed. "Sweet cunt juice. So sweet, little mate. I never get tired of tasting you. Now let me taste it straight from the source."

His head lowered, and his forked tongue flicked out, smearing across your spread thighs and between your pussy lips. He lapped you up hungrily, and you kept producing more, shaking and shattering in two more climaxes.

"You're so beautiful," he rumbled later. "My sweet, greedy little mate."

You didn't have the energy to do more than hum in response, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest.

And your dragon noticed. Of course, he noticed.

His massive head had lifted from where it rested against the piled furs and gold that made up his nest, those enormous, slit-pupilled eyes fixing on you with that knowing gleam. A rumbling moan had rolled through his chest, the kind of sound that made your core clench and your breath catch.

"Little mate," he'd rumbled, the bass of his voice making your toes curl. "You're restless."

You'd tried to deny it. Tried to squeeze your thighs together and pretend that you weren't absolutely aching, that your clit wasn't swollen and throbbing, that your pussy wasn't slick and needy.

But he'd just made that sexy sound again and lifted one of his enormous foreclaws until the polished, obsidian-black surface of it was within reach.

"Come here."

Now you're straddling the top of his foreclaw, your legs spread, your dripping pussy rubbing down that blessedly smooth, cool surface. His claw was the size of your entire torso, the top of it rounded and polished and it felt—

"F-fuck," you gasped, rocking your hips forward, dragging your aching clit across the smooth surface. "Fuck."

The sensation was incredible. Riding the top of his claw was one of your favorite activities. It was perfect for stimulating your aching clit. There was no roughness, no dangerous edge, just that warm, glassy surface that glided against your swollen flesh with every movement.

You rocked forward again, harder this time, and the pressure against your clit made your vision blur.

"That's it," he rumbled. "Ride it, little mate. I've been watching you squirm all morning. I know what you need."

"B-bastard," you gasped, but there was no heat in it. "You've been— ahh—you've been torturing me."

His claw shifted slightly under you, tilting, and the new angle brushed against your clit exactly right. A strangled sound punched from your throat as you rode higher and higher.

"I wasn't torturing you," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I was giving you time to work up the courage to ask. You get so shy sometimes, even after all these years."

You wanted to argue.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't get shy, that you were not some blushing virgin, that you'd taken his cock more times than you could count and loved every single inch of it. But then you rocked your hips again, grinding down against that claw, and all thoughts dissolved.

"Nnngh—"

"There she is," he drawled, and one of his enormous paws lifted (the one not currently serving as your makeshift toy), cradling your back for balance. "There's my greedy little thing. Are you close already, pet?"

You couldn't answer. Your mouth was hanging open, sounds falling out of it that you couldn't control; moans and little high-pitched gasps that didn't sound anything like language. Your hips were moving frantically now, chasing that pressure, that friction, that perfect drag against your swollen clit.

"Nnng—! Yes—I—"

"So soon?" His head lowered, that massive snout coming closer until you could feel his breath washing over your skin. "I haven't even said anything dirty yet."

"Please—"

"Please, what?"

Your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping wet, your slick smeared across the surface of his claw as you rocked against it.

"Please," you gasped. "Please, I need— I need you to—speak to me... I need that dirty mouth..."

"Such a good little thing," he rumbled. "Riding my claw, creamy little pussy making a mess. I love watching you like this. You're so beautiful when you're desperate."

The paw at your back curled more firmly against your back, keeping you in place as he moved his foreclaw again, angling it, pressing the rounded top against your clit and the swollen, slick folds of your cunt.

"There—yes—"

"Ride my claw, pet," he commanded. "Use it. Rub that pussy raw. I want to feel you come all over my claw."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Hips snapping forward, you ground and rocked, every movement sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your pussy was so wet that you could hear it, the wet sounds of your slick smearing against his claw.

"That's it," he growled. "Like that, little mate. You're almost there."

"Nnng—!"

"Poor baby... You want to come, don't you?" His voice was a dark murmur. "I can see it in the way you're moving. That frantic rhythm. You're so close it's hurting you. That clit must be throbbing so hard."

"Please," you sobbed. "Please, please, let me—"

"You want to come all over my claw, pretty little thing?"

"Yes—"

"Then do it. Gush all over me."

Your orgasm ripped through you. Your whole body seized, your back arching, your head bending, keening cries tearing out of your throat. Your clit pulsed and your pussy gushed, a rush of heat spilling out, coating his claw in your release.

"Fuuuuck—!"

This time, he took control, shifting your body on his claw, like a ragdoll, rubbing your swollen clit and pussy all over his claw. Waves of pleasure crashed through you; you couldn't stop; your orgasm kept rolling, kept pulsing, until you were a trembling, crying mess.

"Good girl." His voice was a deep, possessive growl. "Squirting all over me. Marking me."

You couldn't answer. Your body was buzzing, your throat was raw and your pussy was still pulsing with the aftershocks of your release. But you managed a weak sound of agreement, and that was enough.

Carefully, he scooped you up and cradled you in his scaled chest. Through hazy eyes, you could see your cum coating his claw, your dragon's massive, forked tongue dragging across the slick. The sight was so sexy that your sore pussy gave another weak pulse.

"Mmm," he hummed. "Sweet cunt juice. So sweet, little mate. I never get tired of tasting you. Now let me taste it straight from the source."

His head lowered, and his forked tongue flicked out, smearing across your spread thighs and between your pussy lips. He lapped you up hungrily, and you kept producing more, shaking and shattering in two more climaxes.

"You're so beautiful," he rumbled later. "My sweet, greedy little mate."

You didn't have the energy to do more than hum in response, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest.

And your dragon noticed. Of course, he noticed.

His massive head had lifted from where it rested against the piled furs and gold that made up his nest, those enormous, slit-pupilled eyes fixing on you with that knowing gleam. A rumbling moan had rolled through his chest, the kind of sound that made your core clench and your breath catch.

"Little mate," he'd rumbled, the bass of his voice making your toes curl. "You're restless."

You'd tried to deny it. Tried to squeeze your thighs together and pretend that you weren't absolutely aching, that your clit wasn't swollen and throbbing, that your pussy wasn't slick and needy.

But he'd just made that sexy sound again and lifted one of his enormous foreclaws until the polished, obsidian-black surface of it was within reach.

"Come here."

Now you're straddling the top of his foreclaw, your legs spread, your dripping pussy rubbing down that blessedly smooth, cool surface. His claw was the size of your entire torso, the top of it rounded and polished and it felt—

"F-fuck," you gasped, rocking your hips forward, dragging your aching clit across the smooth surface. "Fuck."

The sensation was incredible. Riding the top of his claw was one of your favorite activities. It was perfect for stimulating your aching clit. There was no roughness, no dangerous edge, just that warm, glassy surface that glided against your swollen flesh with every movement.

You rocked forward again, harder this time, and the pressure against your clit made your vision blur.

"That's it," he rumbled. "Ride it, little mate. I've been watching you squirm all morning. I know what you need."

"B-bastard," you gasped, but there was no heat in it. "You've been— ahh—you've been torturing me."

His claw shifted slightly under you, tilting, and the new angle brushed against your clit exactly right. A strangled sound punched from your throat as you rode higher and higher.

"I wasn't torturing you," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I was giving you time to work up the courage to ask. You get so shy sometimes, even after all these years."

You wanted to argue.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't get shy, that you were not some blushing virgin, that you'd taken his cock more times than you could count and loved every single inch of it. But then you rocked your hips again, grinding down against that claw, and all thoughts dissolved.

"Nnngh—"

"There she is," he drawled, and one of his enormous paws lifted (the one not currently serving as your makeshift toy), cradling your back for balance. "There's my greedy little thing. Are you close already, pet?"

You couldn't answer. Your mouth was hanging open, sounds falling out of it that you couldn't control; moans and little high-pitched gasps that didn't sound anything like language. Your hips were moving frantically now, chasing that pressure, that friction, that perfect drag against your swollen clit.

"Nnng—! Yes—I—"

"So soon?" His head lowered, that massive snout coming closer until you could feel his breath washing over your skin. "I haven't even said anything dirty yet."

"Please—"

"Please, what?"

Your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping wet, your slick smeared across the surface of his claw as you rocked against it.

"Please," you gasped. "Please, I need— I need you to—speak to me... I need that dirty mouth..."

"Such a good little thing," he rumbled. "Riding my claw, creamy little pussy making a mess. I love watching you like this. You're so beautiful when you're desperate."

The paw at your back curled more firmly against your back, keeping you in place as he moved his foreclaw again, angling it, pressing the rounded top against your clit and the swollen, slick folds of your cunt.

"There—yes—"

"Ride my claw, pet," he commanded. "Use it. Rub that pussy raw. I want to feel you come all over my claw."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Hips snapping forward, you ground and rocked, every movement sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your pussy was so wet that you could hear it, the wet sounds of your slick smearing against his claw.

"That's it," he growled. "Like that, little mate. You're almost there."

"Nnng—!"

"Poor baby... You want to come, don't you?" His voice was a dark murmur. "I can see it in the way you're moving. That frantic rhythm. You're so close it's hurting you. That clit must be throbbing so hard."

"Please," you sobbed. "Please, please, let me—"

"You want to come all over my claw, pretty little thing?"

"Yes—"

"Then do it. Gush all over me."

Your orgasm ripped through you. Your whole body seized, your back arching, your head bending, keening cries tearing out of your throat. Your clit pulsed and your pussy gushed, a rush of heat spilling out, coating his claw in your release.

"Fuuuuck—!"

This time, he took control, shifting your body on his claw, like a ragdoll, rubbing your swollen clit and pussy all over his claw. Waves of pleasure crashed through you; you couldn't stop; your orgasm kept rolling, kept pulsing, until you were a trembling, crying mess.

"Good girl." His voice was a deep, possessive growl. "Squirting all over me. Marking me."

You couldn't answer. Your body was buzzing, your throat was raw and your pussy was still pulsing with the aftershocks of your release. But you managed a weak sound of agreement, and that was enough.

Carefully, he scooped you up and cradled you in his scaled chest. Through hazy eyes, you could see your cum coating his claw, your dragon's massive, forked tongue dragging across the slick. The sight was so sexy that your sore pussy gave another weak pulse.

"Mmm," he hummed. "Sweet cunt juice. So sweet, little mate. I never get tired of tasting you. Now let me taste it straight from the source."

His head lowered, and his forked tongue flicked out, smearing across your spread thighs and between your pussy lips. He lapped you up hungrily, and you kept producing more, shaking and shattering in two more climaxes.

"You're so beautiful," he rumbled later. "My sweet, greedy little mate."

You didn't have the energy to do more than hum in response, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his chest.