Chapter 23 #2
Sariah is lost in her own ravenous bubble, using my body like a life-sized pleasure tool, inching toward a glorious release that I’m merely witnessing, more than causing.
To be used like this, pleasure wrung from my body while I lay chained up and incapable to touch, to taste, to possess, is the ultimate high I didn’t know I was missing.
She’s an untamed warrior princess, a Goddess of the night and of the light, and as sweat trickles down her glorious breasts, sunlight bathing her in a fiery glow, I imagine how magnificent she would look with her belly swollen with my progeny.
It’s just an unattainable delusion; something I can never have in this existence, but as images flash before my eyes of a pregnant Sariah bouncing on my dick, my balls tighten in furious anticipation—the need to release and coat her insides with my seed, to fill her up with little Blaises and Sariahs overwhelms my senses.
She suspects nothing of my preposterous fantasies, increasing in tempo as she grabs my braids like bridles, shuddering above me as she peaks. Her prolonged shudders take me over the edge, and I come with a guttural groan against the leather gag.
Sariah slumps forward, resting her slick forehead against mine, her breathing ragged, eyes blown wide in euphoric bliss.
“My perfect boy,” she moans before placing an open-mouthed kiss on top of the belt restraining me. “Good boys get rewarded. Did you know that?”
I raise my brow in question, and she giggles, a bashful little sound, as if she didn’t fuck my brains out like a domineering enchantress.
She unshackles me with languid movements before whispering in my ear, “Fuck me like I know you want to, Blaise.”
I spit the belt and take her mouth in a punishing kiss, my fangs sinking into her lower lip until a trickle of blood flavors our combined saliva with a jasmine-nuanced iron taste.
Even her life essence carries that floral aroma.
One day I will build her an altar of night flowers and ravage her between the fragrant blooms.
I flip her onto her hands and knees, dragging her ass up, baring her pretty pussy to my hungry gaze.
“Grab the bedpost, moonlight,” I command as I push myself into her with enough force to shake the bedframe.
Her tight walls clamp around me in a furious grip, her back arching further, tiny gasps escaping her lips.
I grip her shoulders, ramming inside her like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do, her perky ass slapping against my flesh.
Her visceral cries of pleasure rattle my eardrums, and a twisted sense of pride courses through my veins, knowing that the entire castle will know who’s owning her body so thoroughly right now.
I hover over her curved spine, licking a trail between her shoulder blades and up her neck until I find that sweet spot where her pulse hammers savagely.
She’s ripe for the taking and all mine. My fangs sink into her fevered skin like a knife through melting butter, and I drink my new favorite aphrodisiac directly from the vein.
She screams my name over and over again, a libertine orison that would make even the most hardened sinners blush.
I rip my fangs out of her neck and release with a roar, her climax following shortly, her cunt squeezing every last drop out of me. We fall forward, a tangle of limbs and satin sheets, sated yet still voracious for each other.
Hours pass, turning daylight into dusk, and we’re still cocooned in a bubble of drowsy indulgence, me stroking her naked back as she glides one pointy fingernail along my torso in a pattern of lazy circles.
“Well, this has been a fun tumble, pretty boy,” Sariah says, stretching like a lethargic feline before trying to get out of bed. I grab her wrist, frowning.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“My bedroom, obviously,” she answers with an eye roll.
“Why?”
“Your fame precedes you, Blaise. You’ve left a trail of teary-eyed conquests all over Imiryion. You don’t dabble in repeats. Don’t pretend otherwise on my account.”
My brows knit further as I grab her chin and caress her cheek with my thumb.
“There’s always a first time for everything, Sariah. Unless you’re the one disinterested in exploring this further.”
She gives me a quizzical look, but before she can answer and release the painful knot growing in my chest, a knock resounds from the other side of the door.
“Go away,” I holler, but the knocking grows insistent.
“For fuck’s sake, what?”
The door opens with a squeak as Mattya and Axel enter with stoic faces.
“Sir, it’s urgent, a prison…. errr, a p-prisoner…” Mattya stumbles over his words, his face reddening as he averts his gaze. Axel snickers, giving us one lingering look before setting his gaze on the far wall.
“The warriors brought in a prisoner. An onpyr that was caught outside of the city, hiding in the forest. Wounded, but not quite dead yet.”
“Alive enough for interrogation?” Sariah asks, clutching the sheet she grabbed to cover herself.
Axel nods, avoiding looking our way.
Good. If the screaming and moaning wasn’t enough to make a public claim, this is. Whatever foolish hopes they might have had regarding my little pixie should be thoroughly squashed right now.
Sariah belongs to me.
“Taken to the dungeons, I presume?” I ask while hopping out of bed, butt-naked.
“Y-yes, sir. Awaiting your o-orders,” Mattya stammers, his eyes widening at my bare form.
“Good. We’ll take it on from here. You may go.”
Their hurried steps echo through the stone hallway as they scramble to get away as fast as possible.
“This conversation is not over, moonlight. But we have a loose end on our hands, and I’m itching for retaliation.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asks with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
I nod with a smirk. “It’s time to serve some torture.”