Chapter 34 #2
Thrax bent and scooped me up from my knees, bringing my body to his.
His hands gripped firmly under my arse, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, chest pressed to his.
His skin was fucking burning, and it did nothing to sate my need.
Desperate and needy, I ground my pussy helplessly against the hard plane of his abdomen, searching for relief, my soaked panties leaving heat and wetness smeared against his stomach with every shift.
“Needy, Sanora?” His voice taunted, vibrating through my chest where it pressed to his.
I nipped at his jaw. “You don’t particularly just go back to sleep after bringing the Soulless Man to orgasm.”
“Oh, yeah?” A low, sinful chuckle rumbled against my ear, dark and amused, before my back met the icy wall of the shower chamber. The contrast startled me, and his eyes glittered. “Then take that off.”
I obeyed, pulling my nightie over my head, baring myself while his grip never wavered beneath me.
The moment my chest came into view, his gaze caught on the scar at my shoulder.
I’d forgotten it was the first time he was seeing my upper body naked, and I waited for him to question what happened, to kill the mood by having me narrate and revisit the memory, but he just leaned forward and traced his lips reverently on it, hot breath fanning my skin.
“Sanora?” he called, adjusting my weight properly on his arms.
A hot ache pooled between my thighs, soaking deeper into the thin cotton barrier. “Huh?”
“Start fucking yourself,” he commanded against my skin. “I want to see you fuck yourself.”
My breath hitched, but I didn’t argue. My hand slid between us as his mouth traced a path from my shoulder, down my throat, lingering at my ear before trailing back to taste me again. My panties clung to me, drenched, my clit swollen and pulsing with need.
The second my finger brushed it, a violent shiver shook through me.
My body jolted, my head falling back against the wall.
I was drenched, my arousal coating my finger instantly as I circled the sensitive bud, gasping, while Thrax’s mouth latched onto my neck, sucking with such ferocity I knew tomorrow my skin would be covered in bruises that screamed his name.
A moan broke from my throat. It was heady—pleasuring myself while in his arms. He pulled back from my skin, gaze dropping between us. His eyes darkened instantly. “These damn cottons.”
Still holding me up with one arm, he reached up with the other and tugged hard at the thin fabric. It dug into my hip before snapping, tearing in his fist, and the violence of it rocked me. He dropped the ruined panties to the floor and reclaimed my weight with both hands. “Now do it properly.”
The way he looked down at me—like he owned me, like he was being wrecked by me—made my bones terribly weak.
My fingers worked feverishly against my clit, each flick making me whimper.
It wasn’t even the touch, it was the fact that his eyes were locked on my pussy—that was what was doubling the sensation and making every movement on my clit electrifying.
“Go in,” he rasped, jaw tight, chest rising like he was the one about to shatter. “Fuck yourself, Sanora.”
Damn.
I slipped my finger inside myself, my breathing coming heavier as Thrax wouldn’t take his eyes off me.
My eyelids fluttered shut, and I imagined it was his cock instead of my finger—thick, heavy, filling me in a way my body ached for.
But Thrax wasn’t the kind of man who would ever leave me feeling empty the way my finger did.
Even the thought of him inside made my walls pulse around nothing.
So I pushed in a second finger, gasping, my back arching hard against the wall as I fingered myself under the weight of his heated stare.
The obscene sound of my slick arousal mixed with the ragged moans falling from my lips, filling the chamber. My pussy grew wetter with every stroke, each drag of my fingers leaving me trembling harder.
“Thrax…” I moaned hoarsely, my eyes peeling open just enough to see the sharp tick in his jaw.
As if watching my fingers thrust in and out was wrecking him just as much as touching myself was destroying me.
I would bet my life he was rock hard again, his cock begging for another relief, yet holding himself back.
“Do you say my name when you make yourself come?” he asked, voice rough.
Heat licked up my neck as I nodded. “Yes. I imagine it’s you fucking me.”
His eyes closed, head dropping back for half a second. When his gaze returned to mine, his pupils were blown wide.
“And?” he said, demanding more.
“And beg you to make me come,” I breathed, my hand alternating between rubbing my clit and thrusting my fingers into myself, body arching helplessly in his hold, trying to mimic what I needed from him.
His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “And you come with my name on your tongue?”
“A lot of times.”
Something primal flashed in his eyes before his gaze dropped lower again to where I was making a mess of myself, where my whole palm was slick and wet, my fingers disappearing inside me again and again.
His jaw tightened, his pain very evident.
I wanted him to take over. Gods, I needed him to.
Because no matter how I tried, nothing compared to the orgasm he gave me on that stool.
Every time I’d chased after it, I always ended up empty and unsatisfied, still aching for him.
“Please,” I mewled, the plea ripping out of me unbidden as tears of pleasure pricked at my eyes. My body was on the brink, my orgasm crawling closer but slipping further away without him. “Please, Thrax.”
His nostrils flared, voice thick and pained. “Make yourself come, Nher.” His skin was hot as fire, body stiff as stone.
I shook my head violently. “Do it yourself.”
Thrax’s arm shifted, one hand leaving my arse to reach for the wall beside me.
He turned the shower on, water cascading down, touching only one side of us since we weren’t standing directly under the spray.
It sluiced over his shoulder, down the bulge of his arm and to the leg wrapped around his waist. The water was definitely not hot, not even warm, yet steam rolled off his skin, curling in the air and around us.
It took a second for my lagging brain to realise it was because of his hot temperature, and given our situation, it was a sight to behold.
“I want to see how you fuck yourself to orgasm,” he said.
My body couldn’t hold itself steady anymore. My skin pulled tight, my knees buckled, goosebumps prickling across my flesh. “I need you to do it for me. Please,” I cried, voice cracking.
“I’d really appreciate it if you stopped saying things like that.”
He was giving in.
I thrust my fingers harder, frantic and desperate, but it wasn’t enough. Not when he was right there, close enough to touch me. “Make me come, Thrax. I want you to make me come.”
His molars ground together once—the sound of his control snapping.
Then he moved.
With one hand supporting my weight, I yanked my fingers out just as his own replaced them—two at once, bigger, thicker, plunging all the way in without hesitation, without mercy.
Shock ripped down my spine.
I screamed, my body bowing against him, nails digging into his skin. The stretch had me gasping, filling me so much deeper, so much rougher, than I had anticipated.
“Yes—yes—oh, gods—”
“You’re so wet.” His voice was jagged as his fingers thrust into me again, harder and ruthless. I hadn’t even realised my eyes were shut until he spoke up again. “Open your eyes and look at me. Keep them on me while I fuck you.”
I wanted to keep them closed, to fall into the sensation, but I couldn’t disobey him, not when he was in control. I cracked them open, meeting his gaze through tears that blurred my vision, my whole body shaking in his arms.
His fingers were merciless, dragging against every sensitive part of me, filling me in every way I needed.
For someone who hadn’t touched a woman for so long, he moved like he’d been born knowing exactly how to pleasure me.
“Come for me, Nher,” he commanded, his tone dark and aching with control. “Let me hear my name when you fall apart on my fingers.”
And then it broke.
My body spasmed violently, the wet thrust of his fingers moving inside me colliding with the sound of my broken cries. My orgasm hit like a storm, like I was being struck by lightning from the inside out. My legs went limp around his waist as my body writhed and convulsed in his grip.
I screamed his name, begged him not to stop, begged for more, begged for nothing at all as my body contracted and contracted.
“That’s it,” he praised, voice deep. “That’s it, Nher. You’re doing so fucking good.”
I was sobbing from sheer pleasure when he finally pulled his fingers out—only to place them on my swollen clit, flicking and rubbing. At the same time, his mouth closed hot and wet over my nipple, sucking hard.
That pushed me even higher, and I shattered again, those cruel fingers dragging another orgasm from me before the first had even ended.
How was that even fucking possible?
It was everything. It was too much and yet I couldn’t stop. My body was his, writhing and clenching uncontrollably until my mind emptied completely, all thoughts drowned out by the relentless waves of release.
I had to beg him to stop.
With his fingers going inside me and fucking me one more time, he finally pulled them free, bringing them up to his mouth. I watched, dazed and exhausted, as he sucked them clean, his lips curling into a sinful smile around them.
My pussy clenched again, oversensitive and still throbbing, just from the sight.
How could another orgasm top the one on the stool?
I never thought anything would come close to that after I’d tried to recreate it with my own fingers.
And yet, he’d proven that the previous one was only a warm up for me.
I feared no other man would be able to set a new record, he’d definitely ruined this for everyone. Even for myself.
And he has not even fucked me yet.
“You look fucking divine when you come apart. I could see it every day and still never tire of it.”
Boneless in his arms, I blinked at him through the haze, my voice thin. “Do you want to see it every day?”
He breathed out, seriousness etched in his every line. “I’d do anything to.”
The words stabbed sweet and sharp, and that was when it hit me that I’d be gone by tomorrow evening. I’d be leaving Nimorran, leaving him.
The ache in my chest bloomed vicious and deep at that thought. I wanted to duck my head under the shower so he wouldn’t see the tear that was threatening to fall.
But Thrax saw it, and his brow furrowed, like the sadness taking root in me had infected him too. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head quickly, swallowing back the tears.
I cursed myself for ruining the moment with my stupid, fragile emotions.
The last thing he probably wanted was a mortal getting attached to him.
Mortal lives were fleeting, and me growing old and grey while he remained young and beautiful wasn’t exactly a turn on.
Instead of letting the thoughts grow inside me, I silenced them the only way I could—I kissed him. Hard, desperate, and rough, pouring every unspoken thought, every emotion into it.
He groaned against my mouth in understanding, pulling me tighter against him, one arm crushing me to his chest, the other still supporting my weight from underneath. Thrax devoured me with his kiss, pouring back his own dark, raw and unguarded emotions.
He shifted us under the full spray of the shower, water pouring over us, plastering my hair to my skin, his long strands falling wet around his face. His mouth stayed on mine, relentless, kissing me like he’d die if he stopped.
I clung to him, chest to chest, body to body, heart to heart, asking the universe why they gave me both a curse and a blessing in one man.