The Cambion's Hoard

I didn’t know why I was hesitating. Thatcher’s reward wasn’t just for him. I wanted it too. Weeks of quick touches, kisses, hugs, and brief pets weren’t enough. Giving into this would help with the whiplash of emotions we were feeling. I wanted to go slow and build our relationship, but I don’t think mate bonds worked. I felt like if I didn’t succumb, I would explode. At the same time, I wanted Thatcher to cave first.

One quick breath later and I opened my bedroom door. Thatcher was lying on my bed, and I wanted to die. Golden scales climbed up his body. He’d partially shifted for this, not that I could complain. He was stunning, covered in gold.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I really hate smelling like the club.” I locked the door.

“Don’t be sorry. I like the way you smell after a shower.” He propped himself up, and his scales caught the light.

I let my towel fall to the floor, and Thatcher’s eyes narrowed. It was the first time he’d seen me naked. Seeing me in a swimsuit or lingerie was different. Sure, Biggs and Henson made it a habit to walk in on me in the bathroom but not Thatcher. He said it had to be the right moment. I hoped this was it.

When the other two had seen me, I’d never felt self-conscious. But Thatcher’s gaze felt heavy, like I could feel where his eyes lingered. Was he finally acknowledging the weight and realizing he would be stuck with an obese mate? Did he see all the flaws I was afraid he’d notice? I crossed my legs and ran my toes across the carpet. My nerves were getting the best of me.

“Rose.” Thatcher’s voice was breathy.

I looked up at him, and I knew my worry was wrong. He was looking at me with such adoration and lust I blushed. I had been wrong to think he wouldn’t like my body. Thatcher beckoned me to the bed. I straddled his chest again, careful not to touch him. I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Do I get my reward now?” He wasn’t looking at my face as he licked his lips.

“Yes.”

Thatcher’s grin lit up his eyes. He laid down and grabbed my waist. “I’m going to need you to sit on my face then.”

That gave me pause. “Sit on you?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah, I want to be suffocated by thick thighs and plump, wet pussy.”

“Oh god.” It came out as a moan.

He pulled gently on my waist, and I moved up the bed. Thatcher moved back down, so he was directly beneath me. He wrapped his arms around my legs and pulled gently on my thighs.

I grabbed the back of the bed to steady and lower myself. Part of me was embarrassed to be sitting on a man’s face. The other part of me wanted to feel his tongue sliding into me. Stopping just above him felt more intimate than it probably was.

Chills ran through my body when heated air touched my skin.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” Thatcher’s words and tone made every muscle in my core tighten.

Thatcher pulled me down the rest of the way. He inhaled deeply. I could feel the pull of his intake. His chuckle rumbled through my body. I was about to ask if he was ok, but his tongue slicking against me killed my words.

I tried to raise up, but he held my thighs tightly. Thatcher had a healthy appetite, and he went straight for dessert.