“Oh…so you’re…” Layla doesn’t finish her sentence, noticeably swallowing as she trains her gaze away to the shadows.

“I’m a virgin,” I finish for her with a fleeting, teasing smile as I pass back the bottle of wine. The color brightens on Layla’s cheeks again, this time skirting down her neck to dip beneath her collar. What I wouldn’t give to taste her skin there, to discover if it’s as soft as it looks, to run my forked tongue over her bottom lip. She’s exactly the kind of woman I would have wanted to be with, if I was lucky enough to have her notice me. Someone strong, and smart, and capable. Beautiful. Soft. Human.

My reptilian instincts to breed with this human woman seem to flood my head and swirl in my blood as Layla’s legs shift under the scrutiny of my lingering gaze. I pick up an unfamiliar scent with her movement. Something sweet, but fleeting.

“I didn’t think I’d die a virgin, but here we are, I guess,” I say as I force myself to calm the pulse thrumming in my chest.

A humorless laugh floats past Layla’s lips. She makes no move to grip the gun she holstered at her side a while ago, seemingly still content to sit on the floor with me. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Have you ever been with a creature, Layla?”

There’s a brief shiver in her arms. She likes when I say her name. The sweet smell is back, stronger than before. “No,” she replies. “Only humans.”

“Have you ever wanted to?”

“I’ve never had the opportunity.”

“But have you ever wanted to, Layla?”

Layla shivers again. Her breath seems shallower and she turns her gaze toward me. Our eyes lock, fusing together as though welded. I don’t think I could break away if I tried. That sweetness descends between us, something almost floral, and with it my own pheromones rise to greet it. It dawns on me then. I’m smelling her arousal. And my own is answering to match it.

“What is that smell?” Layla whispers, her eyes dropping to my mouth as she shifts her legs again. “It’s so…rich.”

“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours,” I say, another swell of instinct drowning my surprise at my own forwardness.

An unsteady breath passes in a thin stream through Layla’s pursed lips. “It’s not that I’m opposed. It’s that I have specific tastes that I don’t know monsters would be into. So many of you seem to battle amongst yourselves for supremacy, and I like to dominate.”

Oh.

Ohhh.

My cocks definitely like the sound of that.

I clear my throat, trying to think of anything but Layla’s arousal perfuming the air. My cock in my neck pouch stirs and I duck my head a little in the hopes of keeping the movement hidden. What I can’t hide, however, is the scent of my own desire rising around us. It’s vibrant and intoxicating, like smouldering oils from rare trees and the nectar of flowers from another realm. “You think no one of my kind would like to be…dominated?”

Layla takes a long sip from the bottle of wine. “I don’t know,” she says, boldly tying her gaze to mine, her pupils blowing wide in her unblinking eyes. “Would you?”

“Ask me again what the scent is,” I reply, my voice deeper than before, husky and raw with desire.

It feels like this moment hangs on a precipice, like all the seconds of my life have led me here, to a choice that lays in the hands of this woman.

Time grinds to a halt.

Layla could break the spell growing around us. She could shake her head, blow out a deep breath, and stand. She could take out her gun and train its barrel to my forehead, reciting the law that permits her to take my life for being a monster out of its place in this world that was never meant to be ours. She could kill me and move on to the next job, the next creature, and live her human life the way she wants to.

Layla’s eyes don’t leave mine. She swallows, and when she speaks, it’s little more than a whisper caught in the gritty warmth of her rasp.

“What’s the scent, Castro?” she asks, and I know that whatever happens next, I’ll never be the same.

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4

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LAYLA

Desire.

I never knew it had a scent. Sex, yes. The slickness of arousal, yes. But the emotion of desire?

I never knew.

And I never knew what a forked tongue would feel like against my own. Not until today.

It’s thin, but long and agile. Castro’s tongue caresses mine and the two tines of its split end explore my mouth in a tickling caress. The heady scent of Castro’s desire blossoms, so thick I feel as though I could touch it. His tongue continues its explorations as his scaled hands tentatively skirt across my skin.

“Harder,” I instruct as I pull my lips from his and place his hand over my breast. He does as instructed and firms his grip on my flesh, a low, rumbling purr emanating from his chest.

“I want to taste your skin,” Castro whispers as his tongue follows the line of my jaw.

“You’re not in a position to make requests,” I reply, pushing his face away. His eyes find mine with a wary, worried expression until I lift the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. I unhook my bra and slide the straps down my shoulders as Castro’s reptilian eyes fix to my breasts. My hand wraps around the nape of his neck as I guide his mouth to my nipple. “But I feel like letting it slide. Now suck.”

Castro does as instructed, suckling on my flesh, pulling more and more of my breast into his mouth with a moan that ricochets against my ribs.

“Swirl your tongue around my nipple,” I demand as I remove my leg holster and undo the button of my jeans with my free hand, lifting my hips to shimmy them down my legs. Again, Castro is willing and enthusiastic, using his smooth, forked tongue to tease my nipple into a firm bud. When I’m ready, I guide him to my other breast to receive the same attention. He sucks and swirls as he kneads the other one and grazes my flesh with his black claws.

“Have you ever fucked someone with your tongue, Castro?” I whisper. The scent of arousal floods my nostrils. I feel Castro’s muscles tighten as he continues worshipping my breasts. My irritation flares the longer the moment of silence drags on. “Answer me.”

Castro pulls away and meets my eyes, shaking his head. “No, Layla. This is the first time I’ve ever touched a woman. And I want you to teach me what to do.”

Oh.

My. 

God.

When he said he’d never been with a Lizardwoman, I thought he’d done at least something with one. But he hasn’t. He’s a blank slate. A colourless canvas. I can shape him, mold him.

I can defile him.

“Tear my panties off with your teeth and then I’ll tell you exactly what I want you to do,” I demand.

With one bite of his needle-sharp teeth and a vicious tug, the elastic waistband snaps and the black cotton is in ribbons.

“Okay…that was pretty hot.” I say, my voice coming out as little more than a breathy wisp of sound. A shred of fabric hangs from Castro’s fangs, a feral hunger burning in his eyes. I pull the remnants of my panties from his teeth and toss them to the floor before I start guiding him to the apex of my thighs. When he’s centered between my legs, he watches with keen interest as my finger swirls over my clit. “Now used that forked tongue of yours right here, like I’m doing with my finger.”

Castro descends between my thighs and licks a long, slow drag of his tongue across my clit, sending a tingling wave of desire washing through my nerves. His tongue begins to swirl and flutter, the thin split ends flickering like a rapid vibration. It sends bursts of sensation through my sensitive bundle of nerves, and my back arches with the intense pleasure of Castro’s unusual touch. I moan and writhe, wanting to chase my release but wanting to draw the pleasure out longer.