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)
“Gods, baby, that’s right,” I groan, unable to help myself. “Swallow me down. Fuck.”
She keeps sucking, milking me through the last, shuddering spasms, until I am spent, sensitive, and utterly hollowed out. It’s almost like she’s trying to get every last drop.
Fuck, it feels amazing.
Finally, she pulls off with a soft, wet sound, sitting back on her heels. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her breathing ragged, her eyes huge and unreadable. The scent of her desire is stronger than ever, mixed now with the salty tang of my release.
For a long moment, there is silence, broken only by our harsh breathing. Then the witch begins to clap—a slow, mocking applause.
“Bravo, dearie! A most… educational performance. For both of you, I’d wager.” She leers at us. “A promise is a promise. You may go.”
The invisible bands holding me vanish. The sudden return of control is almost as shocking as the loss and for a moment, I almost fall over.
I surge to my feet instead, hastily tucking myself away and lacing my trousers, my movements stiff. I look down at Irena, still kneeling on the floor, looking both used and unbearably beautiful.
Wordlessly, I offer her my hand. She stares at it for a heartbeat that seems to last an eternity, then places her scratched, delicate fingers in my calloused palm. I pull her to her feet, and we don’t look back as the witch’s laughter follows us out the door and into the suddenly welcoming gloom of the forest. The air between us crackles, charged with a new, dangerous understanding.
We were forced to do what we did in the witch’s hut…but we both enjoyed it.
37
IRENA
I can’t believe I did that—can’t believe I sucked him and swallowed his seed like a common street whore.
I tell myself I felt nothing but shame as I sucked him…but if that’s true, why is my body so sensitive now? Why are my nipples so tender and why does the forbidden place between my thighs feel so hot and wet?
I try to forget what happened—what I did—but my mind insists on replaying it in detail over and over. The memory is a brand, seared into the back of my eyelids. Every time I blink, I see it.
I see the worn wood of the floorboards, gritty against my knees. I see the rough weave of his trousers, the way the fabric strained over the hard, thick outline of him. My fingers remember the clumsy fumble with the leather laces, the shocking heat that radiated from him even through the fabric. And then… freeing him.
Goddess…the sight of him, springing free, fully erect and immense. I’d stroked him in the bath when I was cleaning him, but I wasn’t so close to him then. When I opened his trousers, I had him right in my face—long and thick—hot as a bar of freshly forged iron and the head flushed a dark purple.
The sight was intimidating…primal. It shouldn’t have been beautiful, but some traitorous part of me thought it was. A piece of raw, male power, and it was my task to master it.
My face flames again, alone in the dim cave we’ve taken shelter in. Valen is across the space, tending to a small fire he lit with his own breath, his back to me. The orange glow outlines the powerful breadth of his shoulders, and just the sight sends another pulse of heat straight through me.
I can’t stop reliving the feel of him in my mouth.
The first touch of my lips was a shock—the skin so soft against such unyielding hardness. The taste of him, salty and clean and uniquely male, exploded across my tongue. I told myself I was disgusted. I was performing a vile task for our freedom. But my body… my body sang a different song.
The moment I took him in, a low, ragged groan tore from his chest. The sound went through me like a physical touch, tightening my nipples and making my stomach clench. He tried to stay silent, I could feel the effort vibrating through him, but I pulled that low, primal sound from him. Me. With my mouth.
And his smell… Gods, his smell. Up close, it wasn’t just the bonfire spice of his dragon nature. It was spicier…darker. Sweat and leather and pure, untamed Valen. It filled my senses, drowned out the odors of the witch’s foul food and became the only thing I could breathe. Every inhale as I worked over him stoked a fire low in my belly.
I remember the clumsy scrape of my teeth, his sharp hiss, and the frantic, secret thrill that shot through me at causing him that tiny spike of sensation. The way his hips jerked against the invisible bonds that held him when I finally listened to his growled instruction and used my tongue, licking a broad stripe up the underside of the thick club of flesh. The helpless, hungry sound he made when I took him deeper…when the head of his cock nudged the back of my throat.