Chapter 30 Ezekial #3
When her gaze returns, the scarlet of her iris almost glows. I have to remind myself she’s just had an orgasm, or else I’d be coaxing her immediately into another.
“You weren’t joking about the control thing, huh?” Her soft smile squashes all my doubts and re-emboldens all my advances.
I lean forwards, kissing her again, slower this time. Tasting her, memorising the soft curve of her lips, how her tongue sweeps over mine. Every soft, needy sound she utters.
I’ll never get enough.
“Stay?” I breathe, lips-to-lips.
Her soft exhale is all I need to hear, but when I pull back, the regretful look in her eyes really hammers it home.
I don’t want her to leave, but she’s just been so vulnerable with me, trusted me. Submitted. So I don’t push.
I peer down at her body, the perfect body I’ve just had grinding against my cock, now covered in my release and—fuck.
A core memory? Definitely.
“Let me help,” I murmur, trying to keep the rasp and insatiable desire out of my tone.
I grab the nearest bit of fabric, a tea towel I’ve no doubt is Julien’s. I turn on the kitchen tap beside us, let the water run warm before placing it under.
Jasmine watches me the entire time.
Her gaze is like a spark prickling my skin everywhere she looks. My hands, my arms, my face, my shoulders… She seems to look at my shoulders a lot. And I may tense when I feel her gaze wandering there.
When I ring it out, and move back to her, I gently wipe her stomach, and the comfortable silence begins to… alter.
With every slow stroke, the air thickens, heats.
I try to ignore it, to pretend I don’t feel the shift, don’t hear her breath catch and deepen.
Or how, when I wipe lower, a soft whine spills from her lips. How her eyes are fixed on my hand, watching me. How when I discard the towel, and my fingers trail her stomach instead, she never moves. Never speaks.
So I sweep lower, until my fingers skim right above her opening, just before her clit. Her hand raises—
“Stop,” I murmur, and her eyes snap up from my fingers to me. She places her hand back down.
“That’s it.” I reward her with a soft brush of my thumb over her clit. “You need more? Does this greedy pussy need more?”
I keep touching her there, only there, waiting for her answer.
She bites her lip, another feral image to lock away, then nods.
“So fucking good for me,” I groan, growl, sliding two fingers into her soaking heat and lowering my mouth.
When I run the tip of my tongue over her slit, the sound I produce is that of a beast.
“Fuck, Zeek—”
Julien said her blood tasted divine, that he couldn’t describe it with words. Not even my mother tongue, as ancient as it is, has the vocabulary to capture it.
And now, I understand.
“Wider,” I growl in her mind.
And she obeys. Seems this brat could be tamed.
Which meant maybe I could persuade her to stay… Coercion is one of my many talents.
I lick, brush, thrust, feeding like a desperate, starving beast. Waiting to feel her on the brink, waiting until she’s producing those deadly, delicious sounds.
Her fingers are entangled in my hair, tightening. She’s almost there, pulsing around my fingers, clit throbbing against my tongue—
“You’ll stay,” I demand.
She’s so close, that all she does is whimper. I’m not even sure she hears me, and I smirk against her heat.
“Say it back to me.” I slow my pace, push my fingers in and out, then slowly back in, adding one long sweep of my tongue.
Then stop.
She jolts, releasing a strangled groan at my lack of movement, and when I peer up, I’m met by her glorious glare.
“Stay the night,” an order dressed in a purr.
My fingers sink deeper, retreat. Thrust, withdraw, never looking away, watching her eyelids flutter as she loses herself.
“Ana mea, this is heaven for me.” Another hard, gradual lick, and she’s shuddering beneath my hands. “I will stay here, like this, all night. You will stay like this—all night.” She whimpers at the thought of never having that release.
“Shhhh, I’ve got you.” I increase the speed of my thrusts, and she falls back into a haze of need. “If you want to come,” I murmur, “you’ll stay.”
She whimpers again, but I need more.
“I need words.” My fingers move slower, deeper, reaching that ache I know she feels. “Say you’ll stay, and I’ll make this poor, swollen pussy come—”
“Yes,” she blurts in a soft sigh.
Fuck, yes.
“That’s it, you’re learning,” I soothe, smiling at my patronising tone and how it riles her, how she tries to glare until I suck on her clit and she chokes, fingers tugging my hair.
“But I need more than a ‘yes’.”
Her glare returns, hardened, but I’m entranced by the heaving of her breasts as she tries so hard to fight off the building orgasm.
“I-I… fuck!” Her head falls back. She can’t keep it up, her thighs trembling.
I’m about to give her mercy. I’m too desperate to feel and see her come on my tongue—
“I’ll stay… my lord.”
I groan, deep and heavy, the low vibration humming through her body. I close my eyes, cock twitching as I relive that phrase over and over. The soft rasp of her voice edged in a desperate whine, with her hot, wet pussy soaking my face, fucking hell—
“P-please.” And now she begs?
“You’ve done so well, been so good for me.” She’s already shuddering, gripping my fingers so tightly, two more thrusts and one rough lick over her clit, and it hits.
She’s coming on my tongue, my face, my fingers, and I praise her all the way.
“There you go, atta girl.” Slow, steady pumps. “Keep going, that’s it. Fuck, you look so good when you come for me. So fucking pretty.”
I watch, transfixed, as she comes down from the high I gave her. Already knowing I won’t let her gather her scattered thoughts. I won’t let her take back her words. Won’t let her deny me—deny this.
Now I’ve tasted the heat of her skin, breathed in the tremor of her moans against my mouth, I’ll never let her go.
Everything I suffered has led to her, and she is worth everything—worth the nimur in me, the ash, the grief, the fire that forged me.
She doesn’t get to leave.