Page 4 of Stolen Hours

“I think that’s all I can give,” he whimpers. “So tight, precious. Like a vise.”

“Your fault. You’re so big.”

His talons dig into my ass cheeks, and he sits back. I want him back with me, but I bite my lip and wait, eyes unfocused with orgasmic aftershock.

“Your little hole is all pink and stretched around me.” He grunts and pushes in more. I whimper. “Sore?”

“It will be after. Don’t stop.” I don’t want him to stop. I just... I want to be his plaything. I let sensations wash over me as he goes in a little deeper, and my muscles fight back, wanting him out. We both moan at the sensation of my walls gripping and wrestling with his cock. His talons move back to my slippery pussy, his thumb on my clit while he lodges four inches of massive gargoylecock in my ass.

I don’t know what kind of orgasm this is, but I’m having one. One that’s deep and confusing, based more on fullness and satisfying stretch than the hard, sharp, clear pleasure of his fingers on my clit.

And I have both. I have both. I’m so lucky...

“Can I come inside of you?” Genesis asks for permission.

“You get to do whatever you want,” I remind him.

“I want to come inside you, fill every hole on our honeymoon.”

“God, yes. Yes! It’s... It’s happening.” My voice is low and shaky as the strange, delicious spiral of pleasure keeps building until it bursts—and he bursts with it, thick cream pulsing into me.

“Melinda,” he whispers, easing out slowly.

My face is flaming as his eyes latch onto my gaping back door, so stretched that his offering can’t help but flow out.

“I’m a mess.”

“You are incredibly sexy and gorgeous and full of me.” His voice becomes a growl, and his face presses to mine. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“Mmm, me, too.”

“And I can’t wait until it’s my turn,” he whispers, “to beyourplaything.”

We’re still cuddling when my phone chirps. Ten minutes until it’s my turn. “I’ll be back. You stay there.”

WE TAKE TIME TO WASHoff and clean up, and I straighten out the bed when Melinda stays in the bathroom for longer than I do.

I don’t know what more Melinda could possibly give me, not after sharing every bit of herself with me. She’s a treasure.

“You know how you told me gargoyle females use their tails, too?” she calls softly as she steps from the cabin’s bathroom, covered in a honeymoon robe, white and lacy.

“I don’t worry about that. I didn’t marry a gargoyle female; I married you,” I point out.

Melinda comes closer to the bed, and her robe falls open.

My mouth follows suit.

My wife, my petite, pretty little wife in her white lace, is sporting a thick black toy over her curls and a harness that’s made of black stretchy-looking straps.

She looks like something out of an X-rated film, not that I’ve been looking.

“What did you... Where did you...?” I trail off. Can’t make more words, but my cock is speaking for me, rising up like an amorous periscope while Melinda sheds her robe completely and strokes the thick, rubbery cock she’s wearing.

It’s hot and confusing, and I know exactly why she’s wearing it, and that touches me and excites me at the same time. She wants to give me what she cannot naturally provide, tailless as she is.

“You’re all mine for this hour, Genesis,” she whispers, running her hands over my chest.

“Uh-huh,” I choke out.