Chapter 40 #2
His tongue lashed the sensitive bud, flicking, circling, then sealing his lips tight around it and sucking like he meant to drink me dry. His hands were still clamped around my thighs, holding me wide open, refusing to let me close or flinch away as he explored me with maddening patience.
Back arched, my thighs shook violently against his grip, my pussy clenching uncontrollably against his tongue as waves tore through me.
But Thrax didn’t slow down.
He groaned against me, the sound rumbling through my clit so hard I cried out, my whole body twitching. His moan, the feel of his need bleeding into my flesh sent me crashing into orgasm.
His mouth was ruthless as he licked and lapped through every contraction, dragging out my climax until tears streamed down my face and my throat was raw from screaming his name.
Thrax held me there, forcing me to ride the storm, groaning like my release was his own pleasure.
When the sensation became unbearable, I collapsed back, my body shaking in his grip.
And still, he didn’t stop, not until I whimpered and dragged him up by his hair, unable to take more.
My face was wet with tears, flushed with heat, and when I looked at him—his lips glistening, his eyes wild—I nearly came all over again.
The wind howled outside, a promise of the rain to come.
Thrax ran his palm over my skin, cupping both of my breasts in his large hand and giving a slow, possessive squeeze.
I was resting on my elbows, head thrown back as he rolled my peaked nipple between his fingers.
I let my legs drop from the counter, too weak to keep them there.
I wrapped those legs around his waist, locking them behind him as a long moan ripped from me, just before he took one nipple into his mouth—sucking, hot and expert—while he played with the other between two fingers.
Stars burst behind my lids, need pooling hard between my legs as his magic mouth alternated with my breasts.
Lightning lanced across the sky, the world going white for a heartbeat before a cracking thunder followed, shaking the windows.
Then a question slid out of me. “Why did you stop having sex six hundred years ago?”
Thrax released my nipple and hauled me forward into a seated position, one arm curling around my waist as the other pushed my hair from my face, another thunderclap splitting the night.
His voice was low as he responded. “It stopped gratifying me. I used to seek sex out when I needed a little escape from my head or to expel anger and frustration. But after so many times, doing it century after century, over and over again, I just stopped enjoying it. It was causing me frustration instead of taking it away.”
I thought as much—having sex for eight centuries would lose its touch. “So you’ve been doing it with your hands ever since?”
He nodded, dipping his head to kiss me, but I stopped him with a fingertip on his chin.
“What about now?” I asked. “If you had sex now, would it still not feel gratifying?”
He lifted his eyes, dark and searching, and spun the question back. “If I had sex with you, would it be gratifying?” I stared into his dark eyes, confirming. “The answer is no.”
My chest sank. “Oh.”
Thrax tightened his grip on my jaw until I had to look back at him.
“If I had sex with you, Sanora, gratifying is a small word for what it’d feel like.
It’d be deadly. It’s a destruction I admit I’m too cowardly to face despite how bad I want to be inside you, wrecking you,” He took my hand and pressed it to the outline of him through his pants, proof of everything he meant.
Arousal pooled in my core at the evidence of his need for me, desperate to bring it out.
“Coming to the thought of fucking you is the only time I get anything close to an actual release. And I think about claiming you every goddamn day it’s painful. ”
“I think about fucking you, too. Every hour.” I slid my hand into his sweatpants and wrapped my fingers around the hard length pressed against his boxers. “Even now.”
His fingers dug into my jaw, the hold rough and fierce as I began to stroke him. He was hot, already slick with precum.
“There will be no turning back for both of us,” he warned. “Know that you’re different, Sanora.”
“How so?” I asked.
“If I fuck you, it won’t be ‘just sex.’ It won’t be a passing thing for you. I told you I’m quite possessive and seeing anyone near you after me will be cataclysmic. They will bleed, they will cry, and then they will be silent. Forever.”
The rain started in earnest, hard now, thunder punctuating the world like a drumbeat in agreement.
Thrax needed not to worry about another man touching me.
I didn’t know how my heart would survive after leaving here and leaving him behind, how I was going to keep on living after he’d just showered me with words and actions I didn’t know I needed.
I loved our little bubble, and I wanted to be in it forever. With him.
But that was very impossible.
“How am I supposed to go back to mere mortals after an immortal has ruined me, both physically and emotionally?” I asked, voice small.
A chuckle rumbled up his chest and swallowed me as he claimed my mouth. My hand moved faster along his shaft, greedy and eager, loving as his satisfactory groan spilled into my mouth.
“Upstairs,” he said thickly, lifting me from the counter without breaking the kiss. I looped my arms around his neck, kissing him harder because I suddenly couldn’t get enough of this man.
He carried us to the bedroom, dropped me on the bed, then stepped back. Lightning flashed, washing the room white; rain hammered the panes and a thunderclap rattled my ribs, jotting my heart.
Those monsters are only made during intense rainfall.
Were they outside now?
Thrax switched on the lights, pulling his shirt off and his sweatpants down his legs. He stood over the bed and spoke like a man issuing a law. “Spread your legs.” He fisted himself where he stood, showing me exactly what I wanted.
Lying back on my elbow, I finally understood the look he always gave me when I was naked.
Because, same.
He was glorious and scary in equal measure. He looked like he was going to do beyond ruining me, and suddenly, the sheer size of him terrified me as I watched him stroke his dick.
“I haven’t fucked anyone in six hundred years, Sanora. You might as well listen while I’m being nice,” he warned.
He had a talent for saying the exact things that both scared and turned me on.
Thunder hit again and the house seemed to lean under it. I glanced at the window, past the rain falling, wondering if those creatures—
A sharp gasp tore out of me when hands grabbed my ankles and yanked them wide before I could see him coming. I recoiled as Thrax dropped to his knees, planting himself between my thighs.
One hand went back to stroke his cock; the other touched down beside my head, anchoring him as he leaned forward.
His face was a map of what I could only assume was anger.
“I’m more dangerous than those things out there,” he snarled, voice low and raw.
“The only monster you should be afraid of tonight is me. I’m the one here to ruin you.
If you think of anything else, I swear—I'll make you wish you hadn’t.
” Those words pushed fear into me, locking it there as I stared into his bottomless and unhinged gaze. “Now tell me.”
I swallowed around the lump rising in my throat. “Tell you what?”
“Tell me you want me to ruin you.”
Gods.
He positioned his cock at my entrance, sliding it over my clit and coating himself in my arousal.
His shaft was slick, heavy and hungry, the hot thickness of him dragging a line of need across the most vulnerable part of me.
The head of him stroked my swollen bud in expert circles, making me tremble under the contact, breath hitching, every nerve in my cunt humming with a single, blunt instruction: take me.
Even knowing there was no escaping the fact that he would split me open, I still moved my hips as if prepared to take him as I responded. “I want you to ruin me. I want you to ruin me, Thrax.”
“That’s it,” he growled close to my lips, low and pleased and dangerously feral, eyes squeezing shut for the barest second like those words unravelled something inside him.
I touched his skin, and it was burning under my fingertip. I noticed his temperature always got a notch higher whenever he was aroused.
He stroked my clit with his cock, up, down, up, down, left, right. And I was bowing off the bed, eager to have him sink into me as much as I could feel an orgasm approaching.
With each flick of his crown, more wetness pooled, and I was certain I was forming a puddle down there.
Each stroke sent stabs of electric need through me, his movement was slick and fast, flicking the head of his cock precisely on the sensitive bud until my eyes closed, and I was climaxing all over again, having nothing to grip but his shoulder as my heels dug into the bed.
And then, amidst my orgasm, he started sliding in.
His entry was like a violation that made the world narrow to the single, impossible width of him.
I felt every inch, slow and ordained, as if he were rewriting the shape of me from the inside out.
The sweetness of orgasm and the fire of being filled braided into a sensation that had no name but absolute surrender.
Slowly.
My mouth hung open, no sound coming out as he pushed himself in inch by inch.
Pain and pleasure braided together, my walls stretching beyond what felt possible, muscles trembling to accommodate him.
He filled me so completely I thought I might lose myself.
I stayed rigid, brows knotted, not breaking eye contact because I had to see him as he took me.
“Oh, fuck,” I let out when he was halfway in, panic and need tangled. I felt too full, and I might die if I took more. “I can’t anymore.”