Bearclaw Valley But if you’re so smart

ensnared, he let out his breath at the expression in her eyes, the way she unfurled in royal cowling for him, for him.
his caresses grew ardent, then feverish; he whispered to her just as he joined them, the sanctity and the filth of those words undetailed in mortal script.
he was undone; strong; a powerful worshipper; his voice was a cry for ameline at that last, unheedful of who might hear his joy, his pride, his delight.
they favored one another there in rapturous demand. he hunted blood for her on quaking legs thereafter, unwilling to rest until she was sated in the sun.