Chapter 20 Lyx #2
She’s never known anything like this. She’s never felt this power, not even when she used her song. It makes her gluttonous, soaking up every second of his submission. “Beg like this.”
Cav whines in the back of his throat. A strand of spit slips down to his chest, sizzling when it hits the glowing skin. His hips rut like he can’t help himself, mouth forming pathetically around muffled words. Please. Fuck. Gods.
Her cunt clenches. She presses her fingertips down into the soft flesh of his tongue, drawing a moan from deep inside him. It’s hypnotic. It’s intoxicating. She wants to lap up every debased sound, every look, every motion, but she finally, finally withdraws.
Even gasping for breath, Cav keeps his tongue presented to her. She grits her teeth to keep from groaning, cupping his chin to keep his eyes on hers. And then, she spits.
It lands on his tongue and splatters across his lips. His eyes slip shut as if she’s blessed him, her saliva held reverently on his tongue. Depths, why does it make her ache? Toying with his desperation is better than any other penance he could offer.
She tightens her grip on him. “Don’t waste it. Swallow.”
Cav does exactly as he’s told, curling his tongue back into his mouth. He savors her spit for another moment before his throat bobs, and his swollen lips part to reveal the clean length of his tongue.
Lyx’s entire body sings. “You’re a mess,” she pants, like she’s the one being slapped and gagged and spit on.
All he does is smile, his tail snaking across the floor and curling up around her leg to spur her on.
Her fingers curve around his neck. He doesn’t fight back. When she increases the pressure on his throat, his head lolls permissively. Fuck, that does it. She lifts her hand, dragging him to his feet and crushing their mouths together.
The boat careens and sends them tumbling onto the bed. It’s a mass of knees clanging, teeth clacking, and chests colliding, but it doesn’t slow them. They claw at each other like they can’t get enough, hips winding to bring them closer.
She pins him beneath her. The blue light from her skin reflects off of his, and she wants to drag her tongue over him just to taste. Her fingers work at the low-slung trousers on his hips, shoving the belts and buckles aside.
With a mirthful hum, he spreads his legs. His thigh presses between hers, making her bite back a sound, but his pants don’t budge.
Frustration courses through her. She needs him. There’s no denying the ache. She wants to feel his scales scraping against her, to roam the hills and valleys of his body, to ingest all the parts of him that she has been denied.
But when she reaches for him again, he catches her wrists. “Are you being honest?”
Lyx squirms. It takes a moment to remember what he means, his warning from the first day scorching back into her mind. If you want me to give you everything, it has to be real. Show me more than the facade.
What the fuck does that even mean? She can’t think when the sight of him, dazed and pliant, vibrates through her very being. She is hungry. She wants to know every inch of him, to leave teeth marks and lap at his blood, to bite off pieces so that he is forced to stay with her always.
Her thoughts are a tempest, whirling and spattering against her skull. Her tongue burns with words she can’t make sense of, things she cannot say, so she keeps her mouth shut and prays the rest of her will put the fire out.
When she reaches for him again, he doesn’t push her away.
He pulls her closer, trapping her wrists between their chests.
Her hair spills around them. She pants against his mouth, fingers curling in his bodice.
He doesn’t let her do more than that. Doesn’t let her tug the fabric free.
Doesn’t let her touch him anywhere else.
“You’re a brat,” she snarls.
“I’ll give it to you,” he whispers. “Trust me.” It’s so soft she can barely hear it over the blood pounding in her ears. “Just tell me something real.”
It should be easy to lie. Pretend that she needs him desperately, that she’s helpless to this feeling, that he occupies all of her thoughts — but the tremor in her voice would give her away. Because it isn’t a lie. It isn’t pretend. It’s real.
For a moment, it looks like he can see it. Like he knows the truth she’s trying to hide.
Her entire body tenses. He cannot see it; she cannot abide that. Fear hones her voice into something sharp and venomous. “I’ve given you more than enough.”
Cav’s face falls. She tries not to feel the crushing feeling inside her. His fingers brush over her hands and slowly retract. “If that’s how you feel.”
Carefully, he eases out from under her and gathers his wet clothes. Lyx clenches her jaw and fights the sting burrowing in her chest. It doesn’t matter. She has nothing to give. Nothing she wants to give. Showing Cav whatever he believes she’s hiding would just remind her how alone she is.
But when Cav leaves her with a lingering look, the solitude she chose rings hollower than before.