Raphtalia’s scent was a thick, sweet musk in the rented room—clove and honey with the sharp, desperate tang of a demi-human in her first heat. Her tail twitched anxiously, her amber eyes glazed with need. “He… he didn’t even notice,” she whispered, her voice husky.

I, Dom, unbuttoned my shirt, letting her see the thick trail of hair leading down. “He’s a fool. But I notice everything.” I knelt before her, my hands sliding up her trembling thighs, pushing the simple fabric of her dress up. “Your pussy is weeping for attention. I can smell it.”

A sharp gasp left her lips as my thumbs brushed the soaked cotton of her panties. “So… sensitive,” she breathed.

“Heat makes every nerve scream,” I said, hooking my fingers into the sides of her panties and pulling them down. Her cunt was exposed—plump, pink, and glistening. Her folds were swollen, her clit a hard, needy pearl. I didn’t hesitate. I leaned in and dragged my tongue through her slit in one long, firm stroke.

She cried out, her hands flying to my hair. “Oh! That… that’s…”

“Just the start,” I growled against her flesh. I feasted on her, my tongue circling her clit, then plunging deep into her tight, virgin hole. She tasted of salt and nectar. Her hips bucked wildly, her tail lashing the air. I slid two fingers inside her, crooking them to find that spongy spot within. Her inner walls clenched and fluttered