Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
She nods—a quick, jerky motion. Then, with a resolve that surprises me, she leans forward. Her breath ghosts over the sensitive head of my cock, a warm, damp caress that makes my entire body tense. She hesitates only a second longer before parting her lips and taking me inside.
The first touch of her mouth makes my whole body tighten with pleasure. Soft…wet…impossibly hot. She only takes the crown at first, her tongue darting out tentatively to taste the bead of pre-cum that has gathered there.
The sensation is a lightning bolt straight to my spine. A low, involuntary groan rumbles in my chest, torn from me despite my best efforts. Fuck, that feels good!
Encouraged, or perhaps driven by her own burgeoning curiosity, she takes more. Her lips stretch around my girth, and she sinks down, her head bobbing awkwardly at first. She has no technique, no rhythm. It’s clumsy…unpracticed. And it is, without a doubt, the most erotic thing I’ve ever fucking experienced.
Because it’s her. Princess Irena, who has been looking down her perfect nose at me—who has issued commands and expected instant obedience, who considers my Drake form a beast of burden. That woman is now on her knees, her royal mouth stretched wide around my cock, servicing me.
The dichotomy makes me so fucking hot. The power dynamic hasn’t just shifted—it has been burned to ashes. I am frozen, utterly at her mercy, and yet I have never felt more dominant. Every hesitant suck, every flick of her untutored tongue, is a surrender. I can feel the tension in her jaw…hear the soft, wet sounds of her efforts…see the blush that spreads from her cheeks down her neck and disappears into the torn neckline of her gown as she sucks me.
Her inexperience is its own kind of torture. Her teeth scrape lightly, making me hiss, and she pulls back, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, her lips glistening.
“It’s… fine,” I force out, my voice strangled. “Use your tongue more. Flatten it.”
She obeys, leaning in again. This time, she swirls her tongue around the head, lapping at the slit, and the direct stimulation is so intense my hips jerk involuntarily against the spell’s bonds.
“Fuck!” A ragged curse escapes me.
Irena seems to take it as approval, sinking deeper, finding a rhythm. Her hands come up to cradle my balls, rolling them gently in her palm, and fuck, where did she learn that?
The answer is, she didn’t. She’s following instinct—guided by the same primal current that has her scent dripping with desire even as shame paints her cheeks pink. She’s discovering this, discovering me, and her exploration is so fucking hot, I couldn’t stop watching even if it made me go blind.
She moans around my length, the vibration traveling through my shaft and settling in my groin. The sound is one of reluctant pleasure, and it feeds the fire consuming me.
I can’t move my hands to touch her, to guide her, to fist in her hair. I can only watch, feeling everything. The slick, tight heat of her mouth…the scrape of her nails against my inner thighs…the increasing confidence of her bobs, her throat opening to take me deeper until I feel the head nudge the back of her mouth. She gags, pulls back, coughs, and then goes right back down, determined to take me.
“That’s good,” the witch purrs from the corner, and I want to roast her alive. This moment is between Irena and me—a twisted, forced intimacy that has become something else entirely. “Make him come. Drink him down. Let me see his seed on your tongue,” the witch commands.
Irena’s eyes flick up to mine, and in their silver-green depths, I see a challenge—I see defiance.
You see? I can do this. I can master even this, she seems to be saying.
She increases her pace, sucking harder, her hand pumping what she can’t take into her mouth. The combined sensations are too much. The coil of tension in my gut winds tighter and tighter, a spring compressed to its breaking point.
“Irena…” I warn, and my voice has a raw edge to it. “I’m going to fucking come!”
She doesn’t stop. If anything, she redoubles her efforts, her gaze locked on mine, demanding my surrender as surely as I am demanding hers.
The climax hits me like a Drake’s tail to the chest. It’s violent and uncontrollable—a roaring wave of release that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the woman on her knees before me.
With a shout that echoes in the small hut, I come—jet after hot jet spilling into her waiting mouth.
Irena’s eyes go wide in surprise at how much I’m giving her, but she holds firm, swallowing convulsively, her throat working around me. Some escapes, tracing a white line down her chin—a stark brand of shame and possession.