Page 103 of Griffin Food

I pitch to the side—well vested with this sharing business already, certainly enough to know our rutting has taken Atlas to the edge—and toss the covers over my crotch. Nope, not looking.

Then Atlas flips her onto her hands and knees and fills her in a single thrust just as his wings snap into being, fanning out around them and over the nest.

Her back arches, and her cry sets my balls tightening.

“Gods!” My climax is spontaneous.

Unavoidable.

It robs me of every thought.

Her small hand reaching for me brings me back to myself. She clasps tightly. “Rafe!”

“I am here. I am with you.”

Atlas

She is wet and slick, well opened from her coupling with first Lark and then Rafe. I penetrate her, and a deep, previously unfulfilled longing is finally met.

The days of waiting since we first found her have come to an end.

She is beneath me, in the nest, where she always belonged.

The wild noises pouring from her lips with every thrust tell me she likes well the corkscrew ridges along my shaft. Not a knot, but a locking of a different kind. The barbs have yet to extend, but they will when the time is right. The sensation of her yielding flesh shaping itself to those ridges is the highest form of torturous pleasure.

This is feeding.

This is how we were always meant to meet.

Giving her pleasure so that she might nourish me.

Aldric’s jubilant cry— “Our mate!” —tears something free inside me.

Violet

It feels like the top of my head is going to blow off. Every time he penetrates me, it manifests as a womb-deep contraction, a twisting sensation that has me seeing stars. I pitch into a kind of fever. The sounds that leave my lips are the grunts of an animal—not a princess, not a woman.

He reduces me to nothing but sensation.

I am coming. I do not think I have stopped coming from the very first thrust.

“You are well claimed, mate,” he says.

I believe him.

I believe I experience a revelation as he turns my insides out, pounding deeply into me with sharp, savage thrusts. He is not entirely human. He is a griffin. And even in human form, his cock is assuredly not that of a normal man.

The strokes pick up in pace. His wings throw a shadow across the nest, casting an otherworldly quality over what we do here.

I was always meant to be here.

Always meant to be his.

The wheel is still turning, carrying me, but I am no longer an imaginary omega waiting for her lover to arrive at the balcony.

I am here. Living. Breathing.

I am endless and finite all at once.