Page 145 of Griffin Food

My snout lowers to her chest, drool spilling as I drag my tongue over the soft curve of her flesh. She only moans, arching up against the platform, pushing into me for more.

My cock is enormous in this form, an impossible, brilliant pink that defies reason. It leaks freely as I slide it through the slick folds of her cunt, brushing the hot nub of her clit.

“For the love of the Goddess, fuck her already,” Atlas grunts.

I lower my head further, sliding along her collarbone until I can nuzzle the side of her throat. She tilts her head, giving me better access.

My hands slide to her waist, where I grip and lift her slightly. My great bulk curves over her as I guide my cock between her slick folds, pushing slowly until I rest against her entrance.

High above, the griffins hum their approval for what is to come.

Violet

I hang out of time, ready for Lark to take me, staring down between us to where his pink flesh is poised to enter me. The twin swellings at either side of the base are already prominent and aroused. Although the tip of his cock is tapered, the rest of him is huge.

And then there is the knot to consider.

By rights, I should be terrified. And yet I open for him—I ache for him.

His claws prick my skin at my hip. My breasts quiver with anticipation. And then, with a low purr that is half a growl, he pushes into me. My spine arches, belly and core clenching under the great strain. Taken to capacity and beyond. And I’m just pulsing there, lingering on the verge of spasmodic bliss.

His purr shifts to a deep, rolling growl as he tightens his grip slightly and bears down with the knot.

“Goddess, please.”

I could be telling him to wait, to give me a moment… Or maybe hurrying him along. He bears down with relentless determination, and then the great swelling pops right in.

The sensation is sublime, and lands like a psychic blow that lights up the raw pleasure centers of my brain so hard and fast that my head spins. Atlas's relentless will bears down on me with equal and opposite force. A scream is torn from my lips, one that turns into a stuttered sob at the denied release.

The griffins’ hum is so loud it drowns out every other sound.

And then Lark tugs his cock and knot out again, and I get the second riptide of pleasure. Barely has he withdrawn when he slams back in again, knot and all.

It’s too much. It’s too intense, like I’m breaking down into cosmic dust. My body is on fire. Heat courses through my veins. Pinpricks of light form across my skin. The very follicles of my hair tingle as do the tips of my fingers and toes.

Lark pounds into me with relentless, animal ferocity. And I’m so open now, slick, that even the girthy nature of his knot slips inside with growing ease.

My breasts sway with every brutal coupling.

Hanging on the point of madness, I feel a presence absent and yet familiar reaching for me.

The missing piece, my anchor.

His phantom hands glide over me—my breasts, down my belly, fingers brushing against my clit. They leave a wet trail as they roam back up my body. The brush of lips. His breath mingling with mine.

Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, trickling down to dampen the hairline at my temples.

“Please, please, please, please, please,” I chant.

The knot is growing bigger, swelling even more. Of necessity, Lark slows his thrusts. Each penetration now becomes an act of will.

“Just a little more,” Atlas entreats. “Just a little more for us.”

Sweat bathes my body, trailing between my breasts, along my throat, down the length of my spine.

I’m rising unerringly, bound for an even higher summit.

With the next thrust, the knot swells to an impossible size. For a terrifying moment, I fear it will not fit.