Page 142 of Griffin Food

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Lash goes my tail, the soft, fluffy tip spanking against the top of her mons.

“Ah, Gods!” Pleasure explodes through me.

I’m feeding, power surging from her to me and leaking beyond.

My heart thuds double-time. I am nothing but a ball of writhing sensations as I grind against her softness, barbs fully extended, and dump load after load of cum.

She squirms. Her nails rake over my abdomen, and I welcome her marks. More power arcs between us, a powder keg built on her second denied release.

Fuck. It’s going to be spectacular when she goes.

“If Atlas doesn’t strangle you, I’m going to go ahead and beat you bloody too,” Darrion mutters.

Violet’s eyes are wide, spitting murder at me, too.

Good. I believe I’ve pissed everybody off and left our Queen nicely primed.

Still grinning, I pull out of my mate.

Darrion

One can always trust Fenix to ride roughshod over a sacred ritual.

There is no need to ask if I am next. The only other person who hasn’t claimed Violet, save for Rafe—and who we have just discovered is far from immune to proceedings—is Lark. Given he is half my height again and twice as wide, it does not require genius-level intellect to work out that he is going last.

Also, he keeps drooling, and the deep, rattling growl that emerges from his chest is the stuff of nightmares.

“He is noble, if beastly,” Darkan announces.

Wonderful, my griffin admires Lark, drooling and all.

But I am not a heathen like Fenix, nor am I semi-feral, as I detect Lark is about to be. I am a civilized male of breeding, one descended from a noble line. Over the ages, many of my ancestors have bonded with griffins. The greatest moment of my life was when Darkan roused from his long sleep and accepted me in a sacred bond that would transcend my life.

Only as I lean over the sweet woman who today becomes our Queen, and as I take her lips in a kiss and with it her essence—her nourishment—I realize there can be more than one great moment in a person’s life. That today and here is every bit as potent as the day Darkan’s soul bonded with mine.

Darkan rumbles his approval, his presence manifesting in the gentle waft of my wings and the lash of my tail behind me.

Her fingers are in my hair, clinging to me. Her legs are wrapped around me. Her wet pussy smears against my belly. My cock is rigid, engorged with arousal. Keeping it outside her while I torment myself with a kiss requires all my will.

As for my tail, it has a mind of its own and appears obsessed with stroking the soft flesh of her side, her hip, under her breast, and seeking the faint red patches we noticed, and which were left by Fenix’s rougher lashing.

“The tail is all me,” Darkan announces. “How she trembles and shudders with the lightest brush.”

I try to block out his commentary lest I fucking come, for she is indeed blissed out on the touch.

Fenix’s amusement pokes at the bond as though he senses how holding back costs me. In this moment of self-awareness, I almost envy his lack of restraint.

But that is not me.

I slide my palm around her throat, a gentle collaring, pin her to the dais, and I lift my lips from hers. She makes a hot little mewing sound of protest, followed by a hiss of fury, chest heaving as she glares at me.

Yes, our Pride Queen is nicely primed.