Page 166 of Griffin Food

His taste is in my mouth—his scent is in my lungs.

I use both hands to stroke his length, wet from my leaking saliva. It is messy. Glorious. And I already know that he is close.

“Look at her kneeling for you,” Atlas says. “Is she not the most beautiful creature you have ever seen?”

“Absolutely stunning,” Fenix huffs out. “Gods—can’t hold back—going to come. Godsdamnit, I want this to last.”

But I want his seed more than my next breath. And care not if he wants this to last. Am I not his Queen? Is it not my right to take my dues? I want him to lose control for me. To empty into me, just as Atlas said. Deep into my belly.

I take him yet deeper now, my head bobbing, my fingers making a sticky noise as I move up and down, stroking him.

“Fuck!”

Hot cum explodes across my tongue and hits the back of my throat. I suck it all down like the greedy omega I am. His hips jerk. The chair creaks again. His tail curls around my throat like he seeks to feel me swallowing him down.

Lost to my needs, I suck and slurp, then lick him clean until I have savored every drop. My lips pop off, and I rock back on my heels with a dreamy sigh.

“Atlas,” Fenix says, his voice low and raw. “Tell me I can kiss her.”

“You may,” Atlas says.

Fenix leans forward, his fingers sinking into my hair, and then he kisses the hell out of me. His tongue is in my mouth, and I cling to him, and he clings to me.

I’m on his lap. His arms are around me. And I’m lost. Lost in him.

How I have missed this. The feeling of closeness, of togetherness, of two beating hearts.

“Good girl,” Atlas says. “I’m so proud of you.”

The spell shifts, taking the edge off our fiery passion, gentling it to a lighter kiss that eventually, slowly, breaks.

Breathing heavily, my eyes remain on Fenix’s.

“I love you,” he says. “Never forget that.”

Atlas’s hand goes to the back of my neck again, light and undemanding, approving. I look to him for direction.

“It is time,” he says. “Time we let Fenix go.”

I trust Atlas. I trust all of my mates. But in this, I sense that Atlas has a plan.

I nod.

He picks me from Fenix’s lap and carries me over to his chair behind his desk, where he sits me on his lap. “Send word to Darrion that he is needed in my study,” he says, not taking his eyes off me, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, encouraging me to tuck my head against the crook of his shoulder.

I close my eyes. My body is buzzing, and beneath my pretty silk dress that Darrion takes pride in selecting and dressing me in each morning, I’m utterly drenched.

Darrion, who is to be next…

I hear the jangle of Fenix closing his belt. A low creak as he rises from the chair. The scuffing of boots on the floor. The faint scrape of claws against wood as Lark moves aside, and another drawn-out creak of the study door opens and closes.

My eyes remain firmly shut.

Heat is coursing through me.

And I am ready.

Ready for whatever is next.