mating effect

Esteria's POV

His lips were soft and gentle, yet his kiss was filled with an intense passion that made my heart race uncontrollably. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, as if he wanted to savor each moment, each sensation. He pulled me closer, his warmth enveloping me in a cocoon of desire as I felt the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my chest. His towering frame pressed against mine, making me feel both small and completely consumed by his presence. I could feel the hard planes of his muscles as they flexed against me, a reminder of the raw strength he possessed, a strength that thrilled and terrified me all at once.

When he broke the kiss, I was left breathless, a soft whimper escaping my lips before I could stop it. My mind was a whirl of emotions, a mix of anticipation and fear of what was to come. He didn't give me time to gather my thoughts; his lips found their way to my neck, and I shivered as he kissed a trail down to the mating mark. His tongue teased my bare skin, his breath hot against my flesh. A jolt of pleasure shot through my body, igniting something primal within me, and I bit my lower lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. I couldn't let him know how much I was craving more, even though my hardened nipples and the wetness between my thighs betrayed me, showing him just how much I desired him.

His tongue left my neck, trailing down to my collarbone, and his hands found their way to my breasts. He cupped them with a firm yet tender grip, his fingers expertly twisting and pinching my hardened nipples. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down my spine, and I felt a third wave of pre-cum building within me, the wetness between my thighs growing even more intense.

I couldn't focus on anything other than him. His touch, his breath, the way his body moved against mine—it was all too much, too consuming. My mind was a haze of desire, my body trembling with the need for release. In one swift motion, he shredded my clothes, the fabric falling away like fragile paper, leaving my breasts exposed to his hungry gaze. My face flushed red with embarrassment, and I instinctively covered myself with my hands, trying to shield myself from his piercing eyes.

A smirk played on his lips as he leaned close, his voice thick and hoarse as he whispered in my ear, "You better move those hands, or I'll make you." His words were a seductive command, laced with a dark promise that sent a shiver of both fear and excitement through me, making my nipples harden even more. There was no mistaking the authority in his voice, the way he expected to be obeyed, and the thought sent a thrill through me that I couldn't deny.

Reluctantly, I moved my hands away, exposing myself to him, my breath hitching as his eyes darkened with desire. His hands moved down to my most intimate place, his fingers deftly sliding beneath my panties. The fabric was soaked, evidence of my arousal, and I felt a wave of shame wash over me. But there was no time for shame, no time for anything other than the overwhelming need that consumed me. Before he could touch me, I tried to cover myself again, instinctively wanting to protect the last shred of modesty I had left, but he grabbed my wrists, his grip firm, his eyes gleaming with a predatory look that made my heart skip a beat.

"Got you," he murmured, his sardonic laugh echoing in the room, filling the silence with a sound that was both comforting and terrifying. I couldn't help but love the way he touched me—the way his hands caressed my breasts, the way he twisted my nipples, the hot breath that brushed against my neck. It was all-consuming, and I was powerless to resist. My body responded to him with a fervor that surprised even me, every touch, every caress sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

His mouth found my nipple, his tongue licking and biting at the sensitive flesh while his hands played with the other one. The pleasure was almost unbearable, and I struggled to keep the moans inside, my body trembling with the effort. I could feel the wetness between my thighs growing, a sticky heat that only intensified with every movement, every touch. I was losing control, my body betraying me as it responded to him, wanting more, needing more.

When he was finally done with my breasts, his hand slid down to my wet flower, his fingers brushing against the sensitive flesh with a teasing touch that made me gasp. He dipped one finger inside, and I couldn't hold back the moan that escaped my lips, the sound filling the room and making my face flush an even deeper shade of red. I was now redder than the color itself, a deep crimson that spoke of my embarrassment and my desire, all rolled into one.

He continued, sliding his finger in and out of me with a deliberate, torturous rhythm that left me breathless, my body arching into his touch, craving more. I bit my lip again, trying to keep quiet, but the pleasure was too much. Each thrust of his finger sent waves of ecstasy through me, building to a crescendo that I couldn't ignore. My hands clutched at the sheets beneath me, trying to anchor myself, to keep some semblance of control, but it was slipping away, lost in the sea of pleasure that threatened to drown me.

"Scream all you want, darling," he said, his voice a dark, soothing promise that sent shivers down my spine. "No one can hear you. I've sent them all away. It's just you and me now." His words were a balm to my fears, a reassurance that I wasn't alone, that I could give in to the pleasure without holding back. He gently removed my hands from my mouth, his touch tender, his eyes filled with a desire that matched my own. "Scream and moan for me, darling," he urged, his voice low and commanding, a tone that left no room for disobedience.

He slid a second finger into me, and my body responded with a gush of love juices, flowing freely with each thrust. The pleasure was intense, almost unreal as he added a third finger, stretching me further and pushing me closer to the edge. My body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation, every touch, every thrust sending me spiraling further into the abyss of pleasure. I couldn't hold back anymore, my moans filling the room, echoing off the walls as I gave in to the sensations washing over me.

"I'd love to taste your juices, darling," he said, licking his lips as he stared at my wet flower like a man starved. Without hesitation, he lowered his head and began licking me, his tongue exploring every inch, every fold with a precision that left me breathless. His tongue flicked against my most sensitive spot, a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove me wild, my hands clutching at his hair, pulling him closer as I writhed beneath him.

I couldn't stop the moans, the pleasure was too much, too consuming. His tongue flicked against my most sensitive spot, and I felt my body shudder with each stroke, the pleasure building to an unbearable level. I was teetering on the edge, my body trembling with the need for release, the need to give in to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed me.

Then, as if sensing my impending climax, he pulled back, his lips leaving my wet flower, leaving me gasping for breath, my body aching with unfulfilled need. He stood, his movements slow, deliberate as he began to undress, his clothes falling away to reveal his chiseled body, every muscle defined, every inch of him a testament to his strength and power. His eyes never left mine, the hunger in his gaze making my heart race, making my body tremble with anticipation.

He took his time undressing me as well, his hands gentle as he removed the last remnants of my clothing, leaving me bare before him. His gaze roamed over my body, taking in every curve, every detail, his desire evident in the way his breath hitched, in the way his hands trembled slightly as they touched me.