Chapter Thirty #2
I smiled crookedly. “Would you have done that? Would you have gone on your knees for me if I’d kept the hair?”
I’d expected him to laugh. Or even deflect like he usually did. But he didn’t.
He just stared into my eyes, his hair falling into his unblinking gaze. The air shifted, and my smile faltered as realisation hit me.
He was going to do it.
Slowly, Thrax sank down, my hand still clasped firmly in his grip. He didn’t look away—not once—as his large frame bent, lowering in front of me until one knee touched the floor.
Everything stilled. My spine straightened instinctively, pulse hammering in my throat as if my body couldn’t keep up with what was happening.
This man—one I’d once read in books— was on his knees for me. His height no longer loomed above me; instead, he looked up at me, devotion etched into every line of his face, as though I was his gravity.
Gods.
I stared down at him, stunned, my tongue heavy and useless as if it had forgotten how to form words.
His thumb brushed the back of my hand, the touch deceptively tender, grounding me when my chest was anything but steady. “You’ll always have me on my knees,” he murmured. “Don’t forget that.”
The spiralling thoughts choked me, his earlier confession rushing in and tangling harder in my throat.
“You...” I swallowed, forcing out the words even though they scraped me raw.
“If you’re playing with me... this isn’t funny.
You know what this feels like to me? Love bombing.
That’s what it’s called now. And I’m falling for it. ”
“Good.”
He said and released my hand, only to replace it with his palms settling on my bare thighs where my sleep shirt had ridden up.
The burn of his skin on mine seared through me, and my stomach clenched when his gaze stayed pinned to mine as he pried my legs apart slowly, as if he was testing the strength of my resistance.
My pulse thundered in my chest.
And I let him.
I let my thighs part under his hands, surrendering piece by piece until I was open in front of him.
“You want me to show you what you do to me, yeah?” His voice dropped lower, the words threading straight through me as his fingers began a teasing trail up the inside of my thigh.
Heat crawled higher inside me. Slowly, I nodded, leaning back against the counter, placing my elbows up on the counter hold me still. My chest rose and fell unevenly as his eyes dropped, his focus turning molten when it landed between my spread thighs.
Blush crept hot across my neck, and I swallowed hard, throat aching as his hands slid up to my hips, tightening in possession.
Then he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric of my panties, tugging with infuriating slowness until I lifted just enough for him to strip them down my thighs and off my legs.
The cold air kissed me briefly before he returned, spreading me wide again with a patience that bordered on cruel.
The erratic pounding of my heartbeat roared in my ears, blood rushing so fast I thought I might faint. My face burned with colour as his eyes devoured me.
“What?” I whispered breathlessly, the urge to snap my legs shut overwhelming even as I held them open for him.
His gaze flicked up, pinning me, then back down as his palm pressed higher, prying me apart even further until I felt exposed in a way I’d never known.
“I never thought I’d say this but…” His head descended, so close I felt the whisper of his breath against my skin.
His voice finished ragged, breaking into a groan that struck me deep. “I get to bury myself.”
The meaning hit me at the same moment his lips came in contact with my thigh. He began to trail a path of heat along my skin, his eyes closed as if memorising the taste of me.
Shivers shot up my spine as he kissed me from my knee inward, dragging over and over until I was breathing heavily. His hands slid beneath my thighs, lifting me to the edge of the stool, caging me with ease, and leaving me no choice but to yield.
Then he buried his face between my legs.
The first stroke of his tongue ripped a gasp from me, my back arching as sparks of electricity shot through my body.
“Don’t move,” he breathed against me, his mouth hovering so close I felt the vibration of his voice deep inside me.
I nodded desperately, my body taut with need for that stroke again, every nerve screaming for more. His tongue swiped slowly, purposefully, along the soft flesh, circling but never giving me what I craved. My breath broke into shallow pants, veins alight like wildfire.
Then his lips closed around my clit.
A tiny wrecked sound escaped me, head tipping back, vision scattering as shivers cascaded like a storm. He sucked, flicked, released, then took me again, tormenting the pulsing bud until I thought I might die from it.
My thighs quaked around his head, my fantasies collapsing into reality as wet heat pooled shamelessly for him. He devoured me greedily, as though he was taking his last fill of me before his torturous life came to an end.
This might just be the first and the last.
I dared to look down, my vision blurring at the sight of him on his knees, face buried between my legs as he consumed me with a reverence so obscene it almost tipped me over the edge.
The Soulless Man was eating me out.
My professors would dig their own graves and bury themselves if they knew the man they portrayed as ‘evil’ in class was between my legs.
Thrax’s tongue worked ruthlessly, alternating between drawing me in and flicking everywhere at once until my legs trembled violently. I nearly moaned his name as the ache to touch him drove my fingers into his hair, tugging with feral desperation as I drowned under the fire he ignited inside me.
He shivered at my pull, a deep groan vibrating against my core, and the sound unravelled me. My moan shook out of me, my eyes clamping shut as heat swarmed every inch of my body.
I was gone. I was utterly gone. Every atom in me bent, shifted, reshaped to answer the relentless calling of his tongue. It was good. Too good.
“Oh shit,” I gasped when his tongue plunged into me, hot and thick, fucking me with filthy determination. Tears stung my eyes as I clutched him tighter, incoherent sounds spilling while his groans rumbled inside me like a second heartbeat.
He never stopped. Not once. He didn’t even break for air—just kept pressing, licking, sucking, like he wouldn’t stop until he wrung my soul out through my skin.
And gods, he was close to succeeding.
I writhed helplessly, grinding against him, desperate for the exact pressure I needed. But when I tried to move, his teeth scraped my clit in warning. I froze, then a violent shudder wracked me.
Yes. Oh, yes, yes. Gods, like that.
Still, frustration cracked me open, making me push at his head, begging for control and more, but he was immovable.
My nails dug into the counter to anchor myself, as if he wasn’t the only thing tethering me to the earth.
But he was torturing me, keeping me on the edge of my desire and dangling it over my face instead of pushing me right into it.
“Please,” I writhed, on the verge of losing my mind as he tongue-fucked me, hips jerking helplessly against his hard grip. A tear fell out of my eye. “Please, Thrax—”
He growled, low and feral, swearing into me before plunging his mouth down harder, devouring me whole.
Then he pulled back.
The sudden loss almost made me cry out, cold air hitting me where his face had been.
I forced my eyes open, chest heaving. His pupils were blown wide, lust etched over his face like war paint. His lips were slick, smeared with me, and he dragged his tongue across them slowly before rising.
Up. Up. Until he towered above me, his body swallowing mine, and I leaned back against the counter to keep from collapsing under the sheer view of him.
“Say it again,” he demanded.
“Say what?” My voice shook, delirium thick in my blood.
He touched my bottom lip with his thumb, dragging it slowly, eyes locked on the movement. “My name.”
I blinked, heat flashing through me as I realised I hadn’t even known I’d said it aloud. I darted my tongue out to wet my lips—and his thumb—his brows furrowing at the contact as though even that tiny brush unhinged him.
“Thrax,” I whispered.
There was no reaction on his face, just a tightening grip on my jaw before he yanked me up into a bruising kiss, his moan spilling against my mouth, showing me what he could not convey in words. His hand slid down, unerringly, until he found my clit.
He rubbed me with the same intensity as the kiss, my back arching violently as sparks detonated in my body. I clung to him, my legs quivering, voice breaking into shattered moans that he swallowed.
Then his finger thrust inside me.
My body spasmed so hard my teeth sank into his lip, blood flooding my tongue.
He pulled back, his finger buried to the knuckle, holding still while his other hand clamped down on my hip, keeping me from grinding against him. My chest heaved, satisfaction breaming as I saw the crimson bead on his mouth.
He smiled and licked it away slowly, wickedly so, his hand coming to cup my breast through my shirt while his finger began to move again.
One long, thick finger—stretching me more than my fantasies had dared—worked inside me, coaxing slick sounds from my body. My eyes fluttered, my moan a broken mess as he pinched my nipple, rolling it at the exact moment he forced in another finger.
Oh, fuck.
I gasped, the fullness shocking me and pulling my breath from my chest. His eyes held mine while his fingers plunged deeper, faster, his pace growing merciless as my body clamped around them.
“Oh gods—I’m going to—” The words fractured into moans, my head tipping back, orgasm rushing like a tidal wave.
“Yes. Fuck, yes,” I cried. “Please, don’t stop.
” I continued pleading nonsense, my walls tightening around his fingers as they fucked me brutally, nails clawing at his shirt as I held unto him.
Thrax’s other hand left my nipple, sliding up to my neck. He wrapped it around my throat, bringing my head close to his.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” he commanded, voice dripping with need that made me headier.
I forced my teary eyes open, breath hitching at the look on his face. My brows were pulled together in raging pleasure, hands still gripping his shirt like I needed saving.
“How many times have you thought of this?” he rasped, each word a strike of lightning in my chest.
“A lot,” I whispered hoarsely.
His brows knitted as if the thought alone let loose something he’d always kept chained down. “Fuck, Sanora.”
Fuck.
The curse from his mouth snapped something inside me. Pleasure detonated, my orgasm slamming through me, vicious and unstoppable. My toes curled painfully, my cries swallowed by his mouth as he kissed me through it, groaning into me as though he could taste the climax on my tongue.
His fingers didn’t stop, they fucked harder and faster, holding me down as I writhed, cried and shattered under him.
When the storm in me slowly ebbed, I was panting and trembling, my body still clenching weakly around his fingers. I was so sensitive that I couldn’t stop shuddering until he slipped his fingers out, the loss leaving me raw as wetness ran down my thighs.
I was breathless, dazed, unable to process anything but the way he now kissed my nose like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he picked my panties and crouched, gently threading them back up my legs, covering me with steady hands as though he hadn’t just ruined me.
“That should be enough to get you off the edge you’ve been on lately,” he murmured, sealing it with a kiss to my jaw before striding into the kitchen.
I blinked after him, still spasming every few seconds. “Like you didn’t put me there when you let me watch you jack yourself off.”
He laughed under his breath, soft and utterly at odds with the throbbing ache he’d left inside me.
“You should be hungry,” he said.
I should be...I should be what? Hungry?
I stared at him wide-eyed, my body wrecked and my mind shattered into pieces—while he moved casually through the kitchen like he hadn’t just eaten me alive and left me fighting for air.
Like he didn’t have a bulge straining against his trousers.