Текст книги "Alien god"

Автор книги: Ursa Dox

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

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CHAPTER FORTY-TWO Wylfrael

As I stroked the towel along Torrance’s shoulder, I wondered if my bride had fallen asleep. Her eyes were closed, the look on her face a slack and dreamy one. But when the towel grazed her neck, she made a pleasant mmm sound that went straight to my cock and tipped her head back so I could have better access to her neck.

“Are you going to sleep here tonight?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“Well, it is my bed,” I said.

She made another soft sound which made me think she wasn’t too displeased by this. That she maybe even wanted me to sleep beside her.

Well, good. I refuse to spend half my night staring at her from a crystal chair across the room and the other half staring at her standing beside the bed. If I’m going to gawk at her all night, I’m going to do it from the comfort of my own bed, lying right next to her.

I was already getting a head start on the gawking. My eyes roamed her bare body, from her flushed, glowing face, to the valley between her breasts that I slipped the towel down. She made yet another sweet, painfully erotic sound, and when my towel reached her navel, then travelled lower, towards damp and glistening curls, she moaned and spread her legs.

It was as if I’d never come at all. My cock thickened and surged, aching for heat. For her. Tension crackled down my spine.

There was no tension in Torrance at all. She was languid, luxurious, completely relaxed and spread on the furs, her lips parted, eyelashes resting on her reddened cheeks.

I abandoned the towel, wanting her wet beneath me, and heaved myself up onto the bed. I loomed over her on my hands and knees, one palm sinking into the fur, my other hand pressing fingers to her chin, turning her face towards me.

“I remember your terms, Torrance,” I breathed against her lips, “Now you must remember mine. I get to kiss you, anytime, anywhere.”

She surprised me by angling her chin upwards, seeking my mouth with her own. Her eyes remained closed – I knew this because mine stayed open. I couldn’t stop looking at her.

Her tongue was tentative and sweet, sliding slowly against mine. I allowed her this exploration just for a moment. Soon, the flames inside me would surge, and I would have to kiss her the way I wanted to – claiming her with my mouth because I couldn’t claim her with my cock.

But stone of the sky, how I wanted to. I eased myself down until I was flush against her, my shaft hot and stiff against her belly, her breasts crushed to my chest. She wrapped her arms around my neck, drawing me even closer, and her legs spread wider, a silent invitation. Agonized and aching, I wondered if this was my bride’s way of punishing me for everything I’d done. If, with lovely malevolence, she’d contrived to make me want her beyond sanity, beyond reason, only to deny me entrance.

The thought was a brief one. I could not hold onto it, could not think of much of anything now besides how deliciously soft and warm she was against me, how incredible she smelled, how I wanted to taste her everywhere.

Before the kiss deepened to a point where I would not be able to tear myself away, I broke it off, nipping down her jaw, her neck. I groaned in lurid fascination when the brush of my mouth made her nipple tighten, a succulent bud desperate to be sucked. I could not deny her, and I sucked the dusky bud into my mouth. Torrance gasped and writhed, her fingers burying in my hair.

She was so sensitive. Sensitive everywhere. So attuned to my every movement, my every touch. The press of my hand brought redness to her skin. The merest whisper of my lips made her lashes flutter, her breath catch. This hot, wet suction made her nipple hard and pointed in my mouth, made her hips roll against me in a dizzyingly sensual wave.

I no longer believed she was trying to punish me. In fact, as I sucked her breast, bringing her close to the point of climax from that alone, I thought it far more likely that if I pressed my dripping cock between her legs now, she’d welcome it. She would do it silently, without acknowledgement, pretending the entire time it wasn’t really happening, too proud to say she’d let me in even when she came, clenching, around me. Her thighs were spread so wide, her hips undulating desperately, as if I were already inside her. My cock leapt, a thrill running from my tail to my testicles, at the way she begged me with her body.

But I would not do it until she begged me with her words. Until she put aside her pride, or her purity, or whatever it was that kept her mouth stubbornly closed even while her legs were open.

I suckled one breast, then the other, then kissed wetly down her abdomen, pausing to run my tongue in a lascivious circle around her navel. Cursed stars, I was so aroused that even this tiny, shallow divot became erotic, a hole for me to fondle, for me to fill. I moaned and darted my tongue inside, and Torrance’s muscles tightened.

I would have happily stayed there all night, like a worshipful and inexperienced fool, if the scent of her arousal were not so tantalizing, dragging me lower with invisible claws, making me grunt and groan as my nose brushed her dampened curls. I gripped her inner thighs, my own breath burning inside me as I spread her wide.

I feasted on her first with my eyes, admiring the delicacy of the silken skin, from her sensitive little nub nestled at the top to the glistening entrance that did everything except speak with actual words to beckon me inwards. Before my eyes, Torrance contracted, her cunt constricting, a hot muscular pulse that I wanted to feel, not just see.

She said no penetration with my cock, I reminded myself, a wickedness unfolding inside me. Well, then I’d simply penetrate her with my tongue instead. Remind her how good it was to have a part of her betrothed inside her.

Hands like stone, fighting to keep them gentle, fighting not to bruise her, I dove inward. A long moan tore from Torrance’s throat as I kissed along her seam. Her taste and scent nearly made me come undone, nearly made me ejaculate right there on the fur. I locked everything down, ignoring the roiling and inevitable wave, growing higher and higher in my groin, and focused solely on my bride.

I sucked her nub, the way I’d sucked her breast, until she quaked. She was so close, my wanton little bride, but I didn’t want her to come like this. I wanted her to come while I was inside her. I slid down and dipped my tongue inside.

My eyes fell closed as I gave into the sensation of rutting her with my tongue. Just like last time, she was incredibly wet. Not all species had females who self-lubricated like this. Oftentimes it was the male who became lubricated, if penetration was part of reproduction at all, anyway. I’d had dalliances with females in the past who required separate lubrication. It had never bothered me, but I realized now just how much I loved this feminine wetness. This delicious slick that told me how much Torrance wanted me. There was no hiding her reaction, no way to conceal this slippery honey that spilled for me and only me.

I swirled my tongue, swiping and curling, until her inner walls began to shake. I could tell from her breathing, from the desperate sounds she made, that she was right on the brink of orgasm. I slid one of my hands upwards, splaying it along her pelvis, nudging my thumb against her nub while my drenched tongue stroked inside her.

Sionnach save me, I loved the view from down here. Loved seeing my own hand in a hot, possessive stamp across her pelvis. Loved seeing the arch of her spine, the trembling of her breasts, her head thrown back. The only downside was that I could not see her face from here, and I vowed that the next time I devoured her, she’d be propped up on the pillows so I could watch her face when she fell apart.

There was no time to change her positioning now. She was already falling, her fingers digging against my scalp, her hips gyrating wildly against my face. Flickering pressure descended on my tongue, milking, and once again I very nearly lost control, nearly spilled everything I had.

I wrenched myself away from her sweetness, rising up on my knees and nudging my head against the flowing moisture between her legs.

She stopped breathing, eyes wide, watching me, no doubt wondering if I were already about to break our agreement.

But I didn’t. I dragged my aching head up and down against her, drenching myself in her fluids. Then, my movements harsh and urgent, I grasped both her ankles and pinned them together against my right shoulder.

Her ankles were so slender I could hold them both with one hand. My other gripped the front of her left thigh as I shoved my cock between her legs the way I had in the water.

Torrance went completely boneless, sinking into the furs, her apprehension about me breaking our agreement oozing out of her. Her thighs trembled like the legs of a newborn sontanna in my grip, and I knew if I let go they’d immediately fall and splay the way her weakened arms were now thrown out to the sides.

Skies above, this was much better. Seeing all of her like this. Seeing her flushed, damp, beautiful little face, so sedated by the pleasure I’d given her, her eyes almost closed, but not quite, still searching for me even through her haze.

I slammed between her legs, my pace brutal and merciless. I made a feral, guttural sound as I watched the head of my cock slide in and out of her thighs, the soaked tip dragging through her curls. My balls slapped her rump with each jolt and thrust, and her breasts jiggled so enticingly that I couldn’t stop watching them.

And Torrance, it seemed, could not stop watching my cock. Her fevered gaze was pinned there, as if hypnotized by the driving movement of my shaft.

“Touch me,” I growled. I whipped my hand off her thigh and grasped her trembling arm by the wrist, guiding her hand to my tip. She sucked in a hot breath, and prickles of desire turned to huge, poisonous thorns inside me, piercing, drawing blood, when her hand formed a shaky circle for my cock to drive into.

There was absolutely no tension in her grip – she was too weakened by pleasure for that. But I was so far gone it didn’t even matter. Her feeble, loose fist settled, like a skimming net, around my tip, each of her delicate fingers a silken thread that bound me. Trapped me.

I did not even try to escape. I drove right into that trap, wanting more of it around me, wanting her to bind me so tightly that it hurt. Caught and cornered, giving myself completely over to her fumbling grip, I came, seed exploding out of me with the force of an avalanche, a natural disaster of the body.

My groaning breath fractured as I emptied myself onto her abdomen and chest, spewing all the way up to her throat, pale blue fluid coating her skin like a claim. A map on her skin, just like mine, but this one painting the path of desire, not stars.

I pumped a few more times as my stiffness faded. I released Torrance’s hand, but she did not let go. She slicked her fingers over my head, chin dropped to her chest as she watched in what looked like fascination, rubbing her own moisture and mine over my sensitive head.

“Do you like your husband’s cock, little bride?” I rasped, the question coming out much more ragged than I’d intended.

She took a shaky breath, then withdrew her hand, as if only now becoming aware of what she’d been doing.

“We aren’t married yet,” she whispered.

I did not reply. Did not tell her that I already felt like her husband, that she was already mine in the most irrevocable way. I did not tell her that she’d come to dominate my body and my mind. That I’d thought of nothing but her while away from the castle, and that I did not just watch her sometimes upon my late returns, but that I watched her for most of the night, every night.

I did not tell her that when I’d seen Brekken’s teeth snap near her hand I’d nearly lost myself in fear. The kind of fear I hadn’t even known myself capable of. The kind of fear that should have been reserved only for mated gods, for mortals, for those who had something to lose.

But it seemed now that I did have something to lose. And when Torrance reminded me that we were not yet married, reminded me that this was all just a bargain, a sham, it felt like I’d already lost it.

I released her ankles, and her legs dropped heavily to the sides, splaying open on the furs. Exposed like this on my bed, panting and spread and coated in my seed, she was so perfect it made me hurt, so perfect I wanted to roar.

I did not roar. At least, not out loud. Though the inside of my head was not a quiet place when I lowered myself off the bed. I grasped the towel I’d abandoned and tossed it onto her stomach, covering her and the stain I’d left upon her. Torrance lay still for a long moment, her breathing slowing, before she began to clean herself up. I clenched a sigh between my teeth, wanting to clean her up myself, but that was what a husband would do, and she’d already reminded me in very clear terms that that was not what I was.

Not yet, little bride.

Soon, we would marry.

And she would be mine for the rest of her ephemeral life.

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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE Torrance

Agreeing to Wylfrael’s rule about kissing me whenever and wherever he wanted came back to bite me in the ass in a major way.  I was pretty sure my fiancé had some kind of kissing fetish. He kissed me in hallways, in stairways, in the kitchen, as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom in the morning. He kissed me in front of the others, making Shoshen turn away, tail fluffing up in embarrassment, while Aiko and Ashken smiled and Brekken jumped and barked in excitement, mates mates mates. Wylfrael also kissed me when we were alone, with no eyes on us. He kissed me every night in bed, which always deepened into something far beyond kissing.

And not even just in the bed, either. His mouth on mine seemed to strip me of all defences, all common sense, until I was letting him go down on me in the open in the middle of the castle, spreading my legs on stairs and in crystal tunnels, where anyone could have walked by and seen us. Torrance from before wouldn’t have recognized me now.

Sometimes, the kisses were teasing, taunting, often used as a tool to shut me up when I started arguing or asking questions my groom didn’t want to answer. Other times, the kisses were harder, more searching, like he was trying to pull something out of me or get me to admit to something. Like he was trying oh so hard to prove something, to me, to himself, without even knowing exactly what it was.

He tried to kiss me out of questions the day before our wedding when I once again asked him what he would do when I died. We were having a sleigh ride, the gorgeously carved silver crystal structure on skis pulled behind the sontanna, whom I now knew was named Barra.

When Wylfrael frowned and started kissing me in response to my question, I steeled myself, forced myself not to get swept up in him, and said the word I hadn’t had to use even once since we’d started our new agreement. Or, maybe I hadn’t really wanted to use it.

“Stop,” I said into his mouth.

The word jarred him, probably because he hadn’t heard it in so long. He paused, listening, his lips still against mine, as if waiting to see if he’d heard wrong. When I said it again, he pulled away, leaning back against the crystal bench, his arm along the back of the seat, his fingertips draped downward and winding in my hair.

“I want you to actually answer my question,” I told him firmly. “What are you going to do when I die?”

His mouth flattened. It would have been a grim, cold expression if not for the crackling heat of his gaze.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, tight irritation creeping into his voice. I hadn’t heard him sound that way in a while. He’d been lighter lately. More relaxed. Maybe even happier. I’d seen glimpses of who Ashken had described to me that night in the library. I’d begun to see who Wylfrael had been before he’d almost died, before he’d met me. I’d witnessed moments of grace, of generosity, of kindness coming through, when he spoke to the staff or the animals. Despite the tension of that first interaction with Brekken, he’d obviously grown to love that fucking dog. He got down on the floor and wrestled with him and went hunting with him, and I noticed he often saved a scrap or two of his dinner to pass to the hound when Aiko refused to give him any meat from the kitchen.

I tried not to notice too much – notice this side of him – because I liked it too much. But it became impossible not to notice when those moments of kindness were focused on me. Bringing me sweetened milk before I asked for it, or bristling with a frantic, frenetic sort of care whenever I stubbed my toe or got a headache. As Aiko finished working on various outfits for me, he carted them into our bedroom, finding places for everything, shoving his own clothing aside to fill his armoire when mine overflowed. And when he held up clothing or fabrics for me to try on now, it no longer felt like an exertion of power but rather an actual desire to clothe me, to take care of me, to see what I’d look like wrapped up in something he’d chosen just for me.

“We have to talk about it,” I said. “I will die eventually and we need to plan for that.” I was a practical sort of person. I’d agreed to marry him because it made sense to do so and would get me what I needed – my friends, my freedom. I’d also grown up without a mother and had recently dealt with the death of my father. I knew that these things – the big things, life, marriage, death – needed to be discussed and planned for properly.

“I mean, there are logistical considerations, right?” I asked. “How are you going to stay on the council? When I die, you’re supposed to die, too.”

A muscle ticked in Wylfrael’s jaw. The sleigh rocked gently beneath us, Barra serene and silent as she pulled us slowly through snow-laden forest.

Finally, Wylfrael answered, though every word was short and clipped.

“Most mated gods stay on the council until their deaths, but they do not have to. I only need to be there long enough to find out where the humans are and where Skalla is, and to use the council’s power to bind my cousin if he is still berserk. Once that is accomplished, and I learn more about what the council has been doing while I’ve been away, I can end my term and return here.”

My eyes widened. He’d never mentioned this before. That he could come back permanently. He’d hinted lately that he didn’t have to be at Heofonraed all the time like he’d previously implied. That he could come visit me here with my friends. That particular conclusion had come about without any more conversation, both of us settling on it in silence. My friends and I would eventually stay here together on Sionnach and not some other viable world. I told myself that it just made sense for us to do that, and that I also wanted to stay with Aiko and the others. I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with living in Wylfrael’s world, being close to him when he came back to visit.

“OK, so you’ll come back here, then?”

“I will come back here to live out the rest of your life with you.”

The biting certainty of his words shook me. The rest of my life. It was a vow. Like a marriage vow.

Trying to distract myself from how much that statement had knocked me off balance, I refocused on my original question. The one he seemed to be avoiding.

“Right, but what will you do after that?”

Lightning flashed through his eyes, a thunderous bolt of pain crashing down his features. He wrenched his gaze from my face and dragged his hand through his hair, mussing it and loosening the blue tie at the back. He looked ruffled. And, other than during particularly intense moments when we had our relations, he never looked ruffled.

He glared moodily out at the landscape. We were still trekking through the forest, the mountains on our right, snow-capped peaks piercing up into a cloudy sky.

His fingers dug deeper into my hair, catching around my throat and pulling me closer to him even as he looked away.

“I’d mourn you. For a very, very long time.”

I stared at him in profile. I hadn’t been asking about emotional things. I wanted to know the logistics of what would happen when I was gone and he was supposed to be dead. The Sionnachans knew enough about the mate bond to know he was supposed to die when I did. I’d merely wanted to know his plans.

He’d mourn me.

That was surprising enough. But even more surprising was his comment about a very, very long time. We looked at time completely differently, he and I. A lifetime for me was a mere moment for him.

A very, very long time to a stone sky god was eternity for a human.

Absurdly, tears pricked at my eyes. Not because I was thinking about my own death, but because I was thinking about Wylfrael grieving without me there to, to...

To what? Comfort him? Love him?

Before I could pursue that terrifying line of thinking, Wylfrael spoke again, granting me salvation via distraction.

“When you are gone, I will disappear. I will go into exile and hide on some forgotten world. I will have to do that eventually anyway, so I do not hurt anyone when I go mate-mad. I don’t have berserker blood like Skalla, which means in madness I likely won’t be strong enough to open any sky doors, and my star map may be gone by that time, anyway.”

“Hold on. Mate-mad? What does that mean?” He’d mentioned it when talking about his cousin. The Lord Skallagrim who’d nearly killed him. But I didn’t have an exact definition of the term and hadn’t known that he was susceptible to it, too.

Wylfrael still didn’t look at me, gazing with a dark expression at the beautiful snow and trees.

“If a stone sky god does not find his mate and claim her with his knot, he will eventually lose his mind.”

“That’s going to happen to you?”

Dread and panic combined in my stomach, a nauseating turmoil. So not only would he grieve me, he’d eventually go into exile and go insane, all alone?

Not long ago, I wouldn’t have cared. I even might have thought that Wylfrael deserved such a fate. But not now. Now...

Now, it broke my fucking heart.

“Wylf! Can you look at me, please?” My last word was a choking sob. At the change in my voice, he whipped his head towards me and caught my jaw in the cage of his fingers.

“Torrance-”

“Don’t do this!”

His eyes flared.

“Don’t do what?”

“Marry me!”

We stared at each other, him perfectly still, me shuddering with shaking breaths. Ours had never been a happy story, but now it was turning into a tragedy, right before my eyes. Marrying me, choosing me instead of his real mate, would doom him. I swallowed, tears flowing freely, realizing I’d just offered him everything. I’d offered to annihilate our deal. I’d give up my friends, give up my own freedom, to save him. So that he could live happily with someone else long after I was gone.

And what was that if not an act of selfless, stupid, downright fucking idiotic, love?

No!

I wasn’t sure what I was saying no to. What Wylfrael had told me about his future, or the idea that beyond all sanity, all hope, all sense of self-preservation, some part of me had gone beyond just merely caring for him.

Barely able to get the words out through the tears, I begged him. Begged him to end this. To find his real mate, no matter how long it took. To save himself an eternity of madness and pain and exile. Forget appearances, forget the deal, forget Skalla and the council and me.

All he said in reply was a softly-spoken, “I cannot.”

“Why not? Why won’t you tell me why you’re doing this?” I didn’t buy his claims about how finding his real mate would take too long. Not anymore, not now that I knew the stakes. Why would joining the council and finding Skalla sooner rather than later take precedence over saving his own sanity?

“Why won’t you find her? Why won’t you wait for her?”

But Wylfrael just repeated his phrase from before, the softness in his voice disappearing, hardening, warning me not to press further. “I cannot.”

I pulled myself out of his hold, wiping the fur of my cloak furiously along my cheeks.

“Can we stop? I want to get out,” I said. I was talking about stopping the sleigh ride and getting out from where we’d been sitting, but obviously, Wylfrael interpreted what I’d said differently.

“You cannot leave,” he snapped. “Our wedding is tomorrow. After that, we will attend the gathering of the gods as husband and wife, and then I will join the council. You are mine, Torrance.”

But you’re not mine.

I couldn’t say the words, because Wylfrael crashed his mouth to me. I thought about stopping him again, but I didn’t. Pain twined with pleasure, and I opened my mouth with a stifled moan, wanting to feel him, feel how real and solid and safe he was with me. I didn’t stop him, didn’t fight him, when he hauled me into his lap, my legs spread over his tense thighs. His mouth devoured mine, tongue claiming, groans rising up in his throat as his hands dug beneath my long wool skirt and tore away my new silk undergarments. I couldn’t even be angry that he’d ruined Aiko’s sewing, my need for him was so great. The need for him to touch me.

Despite the cold, Wylfrael never wore gloves. His hands were desperate and bare against my trembling thighs, stroking upward, breaking off the kiss with a vicious growl when he found me already slick for him. He sucked my neck, his tongue hot as he tasted my pulse and he slid a thick finger inside.

My arousal was so instantaneous and overwhelming it almost scared me. It was like a huge wave inside me, a tsunami in the dead of night, pure black, without the reflection of stars, rising and ready to crash. Ready to wipe out everything. I arched and whimpered and begged. Begged for more, and Wylfrael nudged another finger inside.

The stretch was a perfect burn. But I wanted more. In some terrible, clawing way, I wanted him to hurt me.

But I’d already learned by now that he wouldn’t. He kissed along my throat, letting me adjust to the breadth of his two fingers before he started moving them. I bucked helplessly and threw my head back when he added a third finger after a few moments.

Wylfrael’s other hand ripped away from my hip, rising to undo the cloak’s tie at the base of my throat. He eased it open, not enough for it to slide off my shoulders but enough to allow him rough, greedy access to my breasts. He touched me through my dress until my nipples ached and I was close to coming, until I couldn’t stop myself from tearing open the laces, exposing myself to his heat and the biting air. His mouth was ardent fire on my sensitized peaks, a shocking contrast to the winter all around us.

The sleigh hit a slight bump, sending me falling forward, my breasts crushing against his face. Wylfrael kept me there, burying his face in my chest, one hand still pumping inside me, the other splayed across my upper back. His lips and breath were harsh and needy, biting over to my right breast as I fumbled clumsily with the ties at the front of his trousers. Snarling, he pulled his hands away from me to do it himself, and I cried out at the shocking emptiness he left behind.

His shaft arched forward, thick and hard and already glistening blue at the tip, stars running down, illuminating swelling and veins. Wylfrael didn’t touch himself, instead reaching for me, but I moved too quickly for him to get his fingers inside again. Hiking up my skirts, my shattered heart on fire in my chest and in my throat, I pressed my heated core to his tip.

“Torrance.” My name was gruff with both need and warning. A reminder of terms and stipulations and everything I’d used to distance myself from him. But I didn’t want distance anymore. Not now, not when it felt like I was losing him, like I was the reason he’d be lost in the first place.

Wylfrael’s hands slammed down onto the curving crystal bench beneath us. Tendons and arteries jumped in his forearms, and cracks appeared like webbing under the silver surface.

He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t break my rule.

So, I broke it myself. What did it matter, now? After I’d already broken my heart?

I didn’t nod. I didn’t speak. I just sank lower and lower, sliding hot and wet until his tip was completely inside. Even after the preparation of his fingers, the stretch was agonizing, but it didn’t hurt enough for me to stop. I rocked, taking more and more of him inside until pleasure began to bite at the heels of pain. I chased the feeling, gritting my teeth and holding my breath as I drove myself downward, filling myself with him.

A vicious cracking sound filled the air, and I opened my eyes. A huge chunk of crystal had come away from the bench under Wylfrael’s grip. He swore and hurled it out of the moving sleigh before turning his burning attention back to me.

“Torrance,” he choked out, sounding like I’d never heard him sound before, sounding fucking broken, “if you want to stop, it has to be now.”

He wasn’t the only one who could use kisses to shut someone up. Legs trembling, pussy pulsing around him, already ready to come, I shoved my mouth onto his. It wasn’t an elegant kiss. It was messy and hungry and inevitable. As inevitable as Wylfrael’s hands rising to my hips, holding me in place as he unleashed himself upon me, slamming upward with incredible force that stole my breath from my lungs.

There was no holding back, no tenderness in his movements. Thank God, because that isn’t what I wanted anyway. I didn’t want his control. I wanted abandon. Oblivion.

Wylf’s mouth closed around the front of my throat, sucking hard, fangs grazing my skin, so close to biting down it made ecstatic fear turn bright and erotic inside me. I quaked everywhere – my arms as I looped them around his neck, my legs, and inside my core. He was so big, filled me so full, that my pussy couldn’t fully contract around him. He barely pulled out with each thrust, as if he couldn’t bear not to be inside me, which meant the pressure never let up, not even for a second. I wanted to come, to clench, but couldn’t, my muscles too overwhelmed by him, until I was sobbing with the need for release. Wylfrael kissed up to my tear-stained cheeks, trying to soothe me even as his cock strained deeper, the stars on his shaft creating tiny vibrations that echoed everywhere.