Chapter 22 Punishment #2
Fabric ripped as Cyrus tore open her tunic, baring her breasts to him. She let out a hoarse cry as his hand cupped her breast. His other hand clamped over her mouth, cutting her off.
“Shh,” he hissed in her ear. “You don’t want the witches to yell at us again, do you?”
She made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “I can’t promise to be quiet about this, Cyrus.”
He smirked. “Perhaps not. But we can certainly try.” His hands grabbed her ass, and he hitched her upward. She wrapped her legs around his middle, feeling his hardness rubbing between her legs. Goddess, the friction of him against her core was enough to undo her completely.
Holding her against him, Cyrus turned, then carefully lay her against the blankets on the floor. More fabric ripped, and a cool breeze nipped at her bare thighs as Cyrus tugged open her trousers. “Let me worship you, my queen.”
His fingers danced along her inner thigh, and she bit down on her lip to keep from moaning. With his other hand, Cyrus ran his thumb down her cheek, then tugged at her bottom lip, prying her mouth open. “Bite me if you need to,” he said, his voice low and sultry. “Bite as hard as you need.”
Fire coursed through her veins at the seductive heat in his words. Obediently, she caught his thumb in her mouth, letting her tongue circle his fingertip.
A grumbling noise of satisfaction poured from his mouth. “Gods, that tongue of yours…”
She captured his thumb between her teeth, then dragged them up and down.
He hissed out a sharp breath, his eyes darkening with lust. “If that’s how you want to play…” He inserted a finger between her legs.
Her hips bucked, and she uttered a strangled sound. He pressed his thumb deeper into her mouth.
Another finger curled inside her. She ground against him, demanding more.
Those two fingers pumped in and out, the motion slow and torturous.
Her blood boiled, the tension coiling tightly inside her.
So much pain and anguish roiled and churned, fit to burst. Goddess did she want to release it all. To unleash everything.
Cyrus’s fingers pushed deeper. Moisture pooled within her, the heat almost unbearable. His thumb pressed against her tongue, and she bit down again to keep from shouting his name.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Take as much of me as you need, Prue.”
I need all of you, she wanted to say. Give me all of you.
But she was too overcome with the violent sensations firing through her.
His fingers moved faster, the rhythm pounding through her with relentless force.
Her hips rolled as she rode his fingers, driving him deeper, harder, further.
Her thoughts spiraled, her mind emptying of everything except one singular thought: more.
Cyrus seemed to read her mind. His fingers curled, brushing against her inner walls, and she almost went mad with need.
She moaned against his thumb, her teeth digging into his flesh.
But he didn’t seem to notice. He was panting and grunting as if it were his cock inside her and not just his fingers.
Sweat trickled down her brow, pooling along her throat.
Cyrus leaned over and licked her neck, lapping up those beads of sweat as it if were the nectar of the gods.
“Give in to me, Prue,” he rasped. His tongue glided down her collarbone until he reached her breasts. He took her nipple between his lips and sucked hard.
She cried out, barely containing her scream. When he clamped his teeth around her nipple, she unraveled completely. Release barreled through her. An explosion of pleasure washed over her, dousing her in fire until the flames consumed her entirely.
“Cyrus—Cyrus—” Her voice was strangled and muffled by his fingers.
She tasted his blood on her tongue and knew she’d bitten too hard.
But Goddess, the fire still rolled over her, unending and eternal.
She kept riding his hand, and he plunged his fingers even deeper as she continued to drown in that wave of pleasure.
It crashed over her, dragging her under, and she gladly let it.
She wanted to be fully engulfed in this feeling, in the way his touch set her aflame.
All the tension and emotions that had wound up inside her burst free in a violent explosion.
Cyrus coaxed it out of her, drawing every drop of rage and regret, sorrow and grief…
He pulled it from her, letting it seep out of her.
Gradually, she relaxed, her body limp against the blanket. She wasn’t entirely sure they’d managed to be quiet enough, but thankfully, the other witches in the tunnel either didn’t notice or didn’t care enough to complain.
To be honest, Prue didn’t care either way. In that heated moment, she would have screamed until her throat was raw, not caring who heard.
When Cyrus withdrew both hands, he collapsed next to her, panting almost as hard as she was. She offered an exhausted laugh.
“Did my pleasure weaken you, my king?” she teased.
He rolled on his side, his eyes sleepy but full of pride. “’Tis hard work, worshipping my queen.”
She propped her head up on her elbow. “And what about you? Surely you are in need of service as well.” She reached for his trousers, which strained from the hardness of his cock. Oh yes, he was certainly ready.
But he caught her wrist and shook his head. “No. Not—Not right now, Prue. Just let me serve you. For now, it’s only you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Do you need me to punish you some more?”
He snorted. “As arousing as that was, I think I’m all right.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he repeated, “For now.”
She sobered and nodded, understanding his state of mind a bit better now. He needed a purpose. He needed to serve her without getting anything in return. Her punishment had been therapeutic for him, as had his ministrations of her body.
If he could give her what she needed, she could do the same.
“Do you want to be alone?” she asked.
He shook his head, drawing one arm around her and pulling her into his chest. “No. I just need to enjoy the warmth of my wife lying next to me while I rest. That’s all.”
She closed her eyes, burying her face in his chest and inhaling his delicious scent. “I can do that.”