For a moment, she just sat there, impaled on him, letting their bodies adjust, allowing their fledgling bond to sing with the force of their union.
When she began to move, it was slow. She rolled her hips, a circular grind designed to draw out the pleasure, to torment them both.
Over her clothing, his right hand travelled upward, gliding over the silk that covered her upper body. His fingers traced the muscles where her magnificent wings joined her back.
They were folded neatly over her dress, feathers tightly closed.
His fingers slipped beneath the soft, folded feathers. He didn't touch the broad expanse of her back, but instead opted to trace his fingers over the sensitive spot on the underside where the wing met her skin.
His actions tore a shattered helpless cry from Arella's throat.
A pleasure so profound shattered her slow controlled grinding. Her hips slammed down onto him in a frantic rhythm, chasing the orgasm that was so close.
