Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Kyrith
Lambert’s cock is hard, long, and throbbing in my grip. I hide my grin against his throat as I press a kiss to his Adam’s apple. I had planned to do this in the shower, but it seems I’m going to have to improvise a little.
The little gasps and moans spilling from his lips as I stroke him beneath the water are music to my ears.
He’s needy. Whimpering. A study in rapture painted in bubbles and wisplight.
His hips follow my hand, chasing more with his typical eagerness, and I school my expression as I lean away, stopping my movements altogether.
“Lambert.”
His pupils are blown as he lifts his head. “Yes, boss?”
That word, that stupid nickname, takes on a huskier tone and a completely different meaning as I pinch his chin between my finger and thumb. “Behave and don’t move.”
Beneath the water, I settle myself more firmly over his thighs, pinning his legs to make my meaning clear.
I already know he’s doomed. Lambert can’t sit still to save his life, something he proves a second later when his hands lift from the rim of the bath again, cupping the back of my neck as he urges me closer for a kiss.
“Lambert,” I caution, against his lips. “Do you want this or not?”
“More than anything in my whole life.”
His earnestness fixes something inside me I didn’t know was broken.
“Then don’t move.”
“What are you—?”
I force myself into my ghost form, lower myself so my head is beneath the water, and take him into my mouth.
“Fuck!”
His hips jerk up, erection passing through my ghostly head, making me shiver. I can still feel them when I’m a ghost, and the sensation of something scrambling my brains is odd. I pull back, releasing my grip on my ghost form so that my weight pins him a second time.
“What did I just say? Don’t make me tie you up.”
The erection in front of me jumps. Okay, perhaps that threat might not have been as effective as I’d hoped.
A bolt of smug satisfaction rolls through me at his reaction. The contrast between my cold mouth and the heat of the bathwater worked exactly as I’d hoped. His lips part on a gasp, and I take him in my hand again, stroking leisurely.
“I wasn’t prepared,” he breathes. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
With a glare, I drag myself back into ghost form all over again and use my tongue to trace up the underside of his dick.
Focus. I want to blow his mind, but his little noises are slowly unravelling my control. The last thing we want is for him to end up with his dick lodged in my grey matter if I lose my hold on my ghost form.
I manage to bob up and down a few more times before his hips jerk again. I draw back, my head tingling as I pin him with a look.
“I wasn’t being literal when I said I wanted someone to fuck my brains out.”
It is kind of funny, though. The quirk of his lips tells me he thinks so too as he shoves out of the water, settling himself on the edge of the bath with his cock jutting out proudly from his lap. He spreads his knees to give me space to move between them, which I do.
“Better?” he asks.
Instead of answering, I lean forward and follow the ink along his shaft up to the crown, finally tasting him properly. His muscles stiffen, breath rushing out on a moan as I dip my tongue into the slit, tasting salt mixed with the gentle tang of soap and something else that’s unique to him.
Lambert Winthrop shivers beneath my caress, and I pump his length again while I study him. I may be on my knees, crowded by his larger form, but he’s unmistakably at my mercy.
Ghostly blowjobs are fun, but this is so much better. I relish the velvety feel of his cock beneath my palm, the scalding heat of him, and the water lapping gently around my waist.
“You have no idea how much I wanted to do this last time,” I murmur between kisses. “When you were in the shower. I was so close to just…”
I cut myself off, dipping down to take him as deep into my throat as I can. Magic, it’s been so long since I did this. Anxiety cuts into my thoughts for a moment before Lambert lets out another tiny whimper.
“Please, stars, Kyrith. Oh, fuck.”
That’s all the encouragement I need. Pulling back, I flutter my tongue along the shaft, swirling once over the head before diving back down.
It takes me a minute to remember how to relax my throat, to take him deeper.
His gasps turn to moans. Curses. Pleas. His hands flutter, caught between returning to the edge of the tub where they should be, and tangling in my hair.
I bob up and down over his shaft, glancing up as he drops his head back again like he physically can’t hold the weight of it anymore.
This beautiful man, this golden god, is so far gone under my touch.
He’s not the only one affected. The longer I stay physical, the more the fire beneath my skin grows. My breasts ache, begging for his touch, and I want nothing more than to find out if he’d react the same way if I were to climb into his lap and ride him until the brutal craving is satisfied.
A hundred fantasies are right here, at my fingertips.
Lambert put himself at my mercy. Gave me control.
I know if I asked him, he’d let me do any of the things on that list. Yet right now, watching him fall apart stroke by stroke is turning me on as much as if our roles were reversed.
My control is eroding faster by the second.
It only grows worse as I slide the fingers of my free hand beneath the water to find my slippery clit.
I circle it gently, once, then twice, before giving in and moving faster.
My moan reverberates along Lambert’s shaft as I drive myself higher and higher.
“Kyrith, I’m going to…” His hands fall to my hair, tugging me away, but I cling on. His fingers lose their strength as he comes, breath catching on a half-whimper.
Swallowing, I lap up the few escaped drops of his cum.
The taste is another welcome reminder of him, of life.
I slip my fingers down, intending to thrust them inside myself and hopefully ease the impatient need that’s started to consume my thoughts now that he’s come.
But he catches sight of what I’m doing and makes a sound of protest.
Without waiting for permission, he bends and drags me bodily from the water, popping me on the windowsill like a doll before falling to his knees in the bathwater and devouring my sex like a starving man.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmurs against the heated flesh of my sex. “Oh, boss. You’re drenched.”
One finger traces up and down the folds of my sex, then finally plunges inside me.
Yes. Stars, yes.
“Shut up and make me come,” I order breathily, winding my fingers into his hair and forcing his mouth against my pussy.
He says something that sounds like “Yes, ma’am,” but the words are muffled. The vibration of them travels straight into my lower abdomen, snagging at the vibrant twisting threads of arousal balled tightly there.
Dakari was skilled, but Lambert is eager.
What he lacks in finesse he makes up for in the way he moans and slurps at my sex like it’s his favourite thing in the whole world.
I can’t tell if he was paying attention to my movements earlier, or if he’s stumbled upon the perfect rhythm and angle purely by accident, but my fingers flex in his damp golden locks as he laves my clit like he’s possessed.
He pumps that single tormenting finger slowly. Filling me, then retreating. Teasing me in perfect counterpart to the frantic swipes of his tongue across my pussy.
“Don’t stop,” I order as my head falls back to hit the cool glass of the window. “Good boy. Don’t you dare stop.”
Lambert groans against my flesh at the endearment, and I grind into his face. It’s all the encouragement he needs to fervently chase me over the edge, and I cry out as sunbursts light up behind my eyelids.
His licks turn gentle, helping me to ride out the orgasm just a little longer. When it gets too much, I shove him away. He obeys, licking his lips. Those tempest eyes are still fixed on my pussy like he’s considering rebelling against my silent order, daring my displeasure for another taste.
I tug gently at his hair in warning, which earns me a puppyish grin.
I’m not surprised when he drags me over him like a blanket the moment we’re both back in the water.
His hands slip down to grab my ass, hauling me closer until we’re pressed as close together as we possibly can be.
His thumbs trace soothingly back and forth over my skin, lips pressing gentle kisses to my hair.
“Post-sex snuggles aren’t optional. I wrote them in the contract, remember?”
Sighing, I cast a silent spell to raise the temperature of the cooling water and nod. “I remember.”
It turns out that, by Lambert’s definition, snuggles last at least an hour and culminate in the Winthrop heir spread out across my sheets, gloriously naked and wrapped around me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away in the night.
Perhaps it would be sensible to do just that.
Unfortunately, I’ve somehow ended up stroking his hair, which is every bit as soft as it looks.
Whenever I stop, he makes sleepy noises of complaint.
Trouble. That’s what this man is. I suppose all the heirs are, in their own way.
The odd seizing feeling that presses behind my ribcage agrees.
Maybe that’s not wholly a bad thing.
After all, without him, I’d likely be lying here, trying my best to ignore the sense of ever-present doom that’s taken up lodging between my shoulder blades. Sleep would certainly be out of the question. But with him, all warm and soft and safe, it’s no wonder that I’m already dozing.
My last thought before I drift off is that I could very easily get used to never sleeping alone again.