My Blood Is Yours (The Summoning #1)

12. Sariel

SARIEL

M y chest pinches painfully tight with emotion at the sight of my female nuzzling against me, like it’s the safest and coziest place in the world. Utterly at ease, despite our circumstances. I crane my neck to lower my mouth to the curve of her jaw.

“Soon we will be free, Elowen.”

With one arm draped over my shoulder, her other hand slides up my torso and across the broad expanse of my chest as she whispers against my neck, warm breath fanning against me. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here. Don’t worry.”

My fingers gradually withdraw from her wet heat as fear trickles like ice water down my spine. “You will do no such thing. I will not have you risk your life with such a needless endeavor. The time will come when Forsythe lets his guard down, and I will strike. I will be obedient and gain, if only, a sliver of his trust. Somehow, some way, we will be free, and you will not have to risk your life in the process.”

Elowen pulls back to take in the gravitas of my words.

“Promise me.”

Her throat works, hesitating to nod. I study her gaze as she stares up at me with wide eyes—so different from my own, yet so familiar—before capturing her mouth with mine again, to savor the feel of her against me. Despite the shackles around my wrists and ankles and the godsforsaken collar on my throat, my heart sings.

Ellowen draws back, stroking my cheek with her finger. “Stand up so I can show you how grateful I am that you came here to find me.”

My heart pounds in anticipation as I follow her orders. She grabs the sponge and soap, returning to her task of bathing the last of me—everywhere but my cock throbbing with neglect, my balls grow heavy with seed that is eager to be buried inside her.

I’m panting like a beast in heat by the time she finally passes the sponge over my engorged length and down to gingerly explore my knot. My hips give a mindless thrust, and my eyes roll in the back of my head as her soapy hands begin to work the length of me. She drops to her knees, heedless of her lovely dress getting wet, and holds my gaze as both of her fists glide over my cock from root to tip. The sound her wet, soapy hands make against me is nothing short of filthy, and I fucking live for it.

My words are a barely coherent growl. “Fucking gods, Elowen.”

That tingling energy begins to rise swiftly from the base of my spine, but I desperately try to tamp it down because I don’t want this to end. She seems to have the same desire, because her hands release me to rinse me off.

My breathing stills as I watch her delicate fingers tug at the string at the top of her dress. One drawn-out moment later, her breasts spill out. Supple flesh and pink, peaked nipples greet me, and it’s enough to bring me back to my knees, but before I can, she captures my cock in one of her hands and brings the leaking tip to one of her pert nipples.

Without even stroking me, I feel that rising energy again, and once more, I’m forced to give an internal clench to try and keep it at bay. She paints sloppy circles from my drooling cock across one nipple before moving to the other, all the while her eyes gradually dance back and forth between her work and my gaze.

“Fuck, sweetheart… Look at you. You’re perfection in the flesh. You could make a poet out of even the most illiterate male, and yet I can’t quell my desire to fucking ruin you for anyone other than me.”

Her smile is warm as she stares up at me with reverence just before her tongue slides over her lips. She hesitates for a moment, suddenly looking nervous.

“I’ve never done this before.”

A dark, possessive sort of satisfaction fills me at her words. “Good. Your mouth belongs to me. Every fucking inch of you is mine.”

Emboldened by my words, she leans forward to welcome me into her mouth by licking a thorough stripe across my crown before her lips close over me, and she sucks. The shackles at my wrists dig into my flesh as my arms strain towards her, desperate with the need to wrap her silken hair around my fist.

Instead, I’m left entirely at her mercy. Elowen’s eyes roll in the back of her head as she moans her pleasure, teasing at one of her cum-drenched nipples as she strokes her other hand down my length. The sight is my undoing.

“Fuck, love, don’t stop. I can’t hold back any longer.”

I half anticipate her to reach for the jar to collect my semen, but she doesn’t falter for a moment—something for which I am exceedingly grateful.

Her eyes lift to mine as she tries to take me deep in her throat but quickly gags against me. The sensation of her throat spasming against me in protest makes me think of what it will feel like to have her beautiful cunt milking my cock. Determined, her head bobs over the crown of me and only a few inches further, unable to take anymore, as her fist works the rest of me in tandem and strokes over my throbbing knot.

That coiling energy rises swiftly and lights up every molecule within me like fucking fireworks. That ache in my chest—the tether between us—bursts with sensation as my cock jerks, and my seed spurts. Her eyes widen in surprise at the bountiful volume of it before groaning her satisfaction and swallowing it down gulp after gulp that overflows from the corners of her mouth as she continues to suckle and stroke me for long, heart-pounding seconds until the pulsing in my length ceases.

Taking me in both hands, she hums a satisfied sigh as she pulls back and begins to lick and clean me from knot to crown, pressing sloppy kisses to every inch of me. My chest heaves with emotion and determination as reality settles back in.