Read Online The Last of the Monsters by Lila Dubois - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lila Dubois
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hall.
He’d never been in Akta’s bedroom before, despite all the time he’d spent in her house. She opened the door, leading him into a world that was both foreign and strangely familiar. The walls were cream, the exposed beams a deep brown. She had a huge wooden bed with a brightly colored duvet. On top of that strong, almost masculine base were feminine bits and pieces. There was a freestanding mirror in one corner with a painted frame, a beautiful carved wood bench at the foot of the bed with a pile of discarded shoes sitting under it. A delicate vanity with a little stool Henry was sure wouldn’t hold his weight was across from the bed. There were trays and stacks of little pots and tubes, which he knew after his time on set were makeup, but outside the makeup trailer they seemed mysterious, as if she were a sorceress.
There were candles everywhere—fat ones sitting on little round mirrors, slender ones in glass and metal candelabras, and tiny ones in fixtures on the walls. The room smelled like roses, spice and soft cotton.
He’d never been in a more feminine space. In human form, he was tall and muscled, but not nearly as bulky as Luke or Runako, yet this room made him feel as large and awkward as if he were in his true body, trying to navigate a space not meant for him.
Akta closed the door behind them, then let go of his hand.
Henry folded his arms, then unfolded them. He tucked his hands in his pockets and examined the carpet.
Akta took a lighter from a drawer and went around the bedroom, lighting the candles. When she was done, she flicked off the lights and the room was filled with a warm glow.
“You don’t have to do this.” Henry gestured to the candles.
“Do what? Make it romantic?”
Henry had to check the urge to bolt when she said “romantic”. He couldn’t do this. Despite his virgin status, he was pretty sure he could handle sex—romance was a whole different proposition.
“Yes.”
Akta pulled her hair over her shoulder, stroking her fingers through the long strands. He’d seen her do it a hundred times, but this time it make his cock throb, made him itch to touch her.
“If you don’t want romance, what do you want?”
“I…” Henry closed his mouth. There was only one thing he was sure he wanted. “I want you. That’s it. I want you.”
Akta looked at him from under her lashes. He knew he should go to her, he should touch her, strip off his clothes then peel her out of hers, but he was stuck. It was as if his human form had stopped responding to his commands.
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, neither moving, then Akta shrugged out of her sweater.
Beneath the shapeless thing she wore a tank top and a pair of long, silky PJs. The pants were riding low on her hips, leaving a strip of brown skin visible. Her nipples were hard, the peaks outlined by the thin cotton.
Akta took his hands and placed them on her ribs, just under her breasts. Henry’s mouth was dry. Her skin was warm through the cotton. When she pulled off her shirt, sliding it from between her body and his hands, he was left holding her naked upper body. She tugged her hair free of the tank, then tossed it aside.
Her breasts were small but perfect, the lower swells were pale, the nipples tight and dark.
“You can touch them.”
Henry swallowed, then licked his lips.
Her hands cradled his, guiding them up until his palms covered her breasts. The tight buds of her nipples pressed against his hands. Akta made a little sound of pleasure, her fingers stroking his forearms.
“Now you,” she whispered, reaching for the hem of his shirt. Henry released her only long enough to help her rid him of his shirt. When they were both naked from the waist up, he reached for her breasts again. This time he cupped the bottom, caging her nipples between the edges of his index fingers and thumbs. Watching her carefully, he pinched her nipples.
Akta gasped, her nails digging into his forearms.
Henry pulled
He’d never been in Akta’s bedroom before, despite all the time he’d spent in her house. She opened the door, leading him into a world that was both foreign and strangely familiar. The walls were cream, the exposed beams a deep brown. She had a huge wooden bed with a brightly colored duvet. On top of that strong, almost masculine base were feminine bits and pieces. There was a freestanding mirror in one corner with a painted frame, a beautiful carved wood bench at the foot of the bed with a pile of discarded shoes sitting under it. A delicate vanity with a little stool Henry was sure wouldn’t hold his weight was across from the bed. There were trays and stacks of little pots and tubes, which he knew after his time on set were makeup, but outside the makeup trailer they seemed mysterious, as if she were a sorceress.
There were candles everywhere—fat ones sitting on little round mirrors, slender ones in glass and metal candelabras, and tiny ones in fixtures on the walls. The room smelled like roses, spice and soft cotton.
He’d never been in a more feminine space. In human form, he was tall and muscled, but not nearly as bulky as Luke or Runako, yet this room made him feel as large and awkward as if he were in his true body, trying to navigate a space not meant for him.
Akta closed the door behind them, then let go of his hand.
Henry folded his arms, then unfolded them. He tucked his hands in his pockets and examined the carpet.
Akta took a lighter from a drawer and went around the bedroom, lighting the candles. When she was done, she flicked off the lights and the room was filled with a warm glow.
“You don’t have to do this.” Henry gestured to the candles.
“Do what? Make it romantic?”
Henry had to check the urge to bolt when she said “romantic”. He couldn’t do this. Despite his virgin status, he was pretty sure he could handle sex—romance was a whole different proposition.
“Yes.”
Akta pulled her hair over her shoulder, stroking her fingers through the long strands. He’d seen her do it a hundred times, but this time it make his cock throb, made him itch to touch her.
“If you don’t want romance, what do you want?”
“I…” Henry closed his mouth. There was only one thing he was sure he wanted. “I want you. That’s it. I want you.”
Akta looked at him from under her lashes. He knew he should go to her, he should touch her, strip off his clothes then peel her out of hers, but he was stuck. It was as if his human form had stopped responding to his commands.
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, neither moving, then Akta shrugged out of her sweater.
Beneath the shapeless thing she wore a tank top and a pair of long, silky PJs. The pants were riding low on her hips, leaving a strip of brown skin visible. Her nipples were hard, the peaks outlined by the thin cotton.
Akta took his hands and placed them on her ribs, just under her breasts. Henry’s mouth was dry. Her skin was warm through the cotton. When she pulled off her shirt, sliding it from between her body and his hands, he was left holding her naked upper body. She tugged her hair free of the tank, then tossed it aside.
Her breasts were small but perfect, the lower swells were pale, the nipples tight and dark.
“You can touch them.”
Henry swallowed, then licked his lips.
Her hands cradled his, guiding them up until his palms covered her breasts. The tight buds of her nipples pressed against his hands. Akta made a little sound of pleasure, her fingers stroking his forearms.
“Now you,” she whispered, reaching for the hem of his shirt. Henry released her only long enough to help her rid him of his shirt. When they were both naked from the waist up, he reached for her breasts again. This time he cupped the bottom, caging her nipples between the edges of his index fingers and thumbs. Watching her carefully, he pinched her nipples.
Akta gasped, her nails digging into his forearms.
Henry pulled
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