Chapter Fifty-Six Thyra
Chapter Fifty-Six
Thyra
Stellen’s heated smile quickens my blood.
He bends his head to mine, his lips feathering my cheek, seeking my ear, nudging the sensitive skin in front of my earlobe, a tantalizingly short contact before he draws back again.
His hand tightens across my palm, and the smile lingers on his lips, but as he speaks, a melody fills his voice that makes my toes curl. “You wanted a bath. Let me run it for you.”
His fingertips feather my wrist as I follow him to the bathing room attached to the bedroom I chose, where he turns and nudges me backward against the wall by the door, a slow, prowling movement before my back presses to the hard surface.
Once again, his head lowers to mine, but this time, he brushes his lips across my other cheek and to my other earlobe, tantalizing touches and a whispered breath inhaled against my skin.
I arch forward, but he steps back, pulling my wrist to his lips, planting kisses across my palm. My left hand. Free of the blade’s image. Free of the blood bind. His lips progress to my forefinger, drawing the tip into his mouth before letting me go.
My heated exhale ripples the Lethian armor across my body, but I’m still wearing the training suit, confining the magical threads beneath it.
As Stellen steps to the pump at the side of the bath, he pulls his tunic up and over his head, dropping it onto the floor. His boots follow. But his focus seems now to be on the bath.
He pumps the handle, and as the water pours in, he extends his hand into the flow, a soft hum on his lips, a melody nearly drowned out by the rush of liquid, but my ears must be so attuned to his Voice that another shiver runs through me, rippling to my core.
And again, the Lethian armor pushes across my skin, this time with more force.
I find Stellen watching me beneath his lashes, his fingertips still in the water, the soft hum still on his lips.
Peeling myself off the wall, I draw the training suit down over my arms and to my waist. I step up beside the bath, a full two paces away from Stellen before I push the rest of the suit down my legs and completely off.
My Lethian armor remains, and I could certainly take it off by myself, but…
I tip my head up, a challenge in my eyes.
I’m prepared to ask for what I want, but he seems to anticipate me.
He rises to his feet, water dripping from his fingertips before a sheen of frost rushes across his hand turning the droplets to ice. With his focus on me, he closes his fist and the ice becomes powder, floating to the floor.
His gaze flows down my curves and I anticipate he’ll close the gap between us, but instead of reaching for me, he backs away, careful steps taking him to the stool in the corner of the room.
My brow creases when he takes a seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of himself, his focus intently on me, his pale eyes darkening behind the white strands of his luminous hair.
He hums a note low in the back of his throat.
The furrow in my brow vanishes because…
The tension in my stomach unfurls, a subtle but undeniable sensation.
He waits a beat, as if he were letting the sensation settle, but his silence is brief before he hums another note, still in the back of his throat.
Heat flows from my stomach to my pelvis, a stronger sensation than the first, now pooling in my core.
A moan leaves my lips as I sway on the spot, my hip nudging the side of the bath, my hand finding its edge, an anchor as the pleasure swirling from those two notes unfurls and grows, spreading up through my chest and down through my legs, radiating like echoes.
One corner of his lips rises and the heat in his eyes intensifies, the dilation of his pupils so much more obvious because of his pale irises.
He inhales, a simple, quiet, calm pulling of the air that tugs on me like a string.
My other hand finds the side of the bath, both now gripping hard as deep pleasure spirals through me, no longer from any specific point, filling every inch of me.
At his slow exhalation, he sings another note so heated that I can’t stifle my cry.
My arms straighten and I bend at the hips, my back nearly parallel with the floor as I stretch out beside the bath.
My moan sends the Lethian threads into a frenzy, their form shifting rapidly, tightening beneath my breasts, creating a corset that supports me while around my legs the threads begin to softly churn, swirling to a pulse I can’t hear, can only feel.
Dear Goddess, Stellen has sung only two notes and taken a deliberately controlled breath and I am…
Losing my sense of time and space with every passing second.
Through the haze of pleasure wrapping around my body, I’m aware of him rising from his seat.
Soft and slow, he begins to hum again, but this time, the notes don’t stop.
His song moves across and around my body from the top of my head to the soles of my feet as surely as if he were running his fingertips across every sensitive part of me.
My neck. My shoulders. Between my breasts. Over my curves. Across my hardened nipples. Down my stomach. Inside my thighs. Up and over my folds. But not yet across my clit, where I ache for his song to ease my need.
As he reaches my side, his melody grows more forceful.
Pleasure builds in my pelvis, another layer of heat untwining between my legs, sensation brushing my inner thighs, this time not only igniting pleasure, but coaxing my legs apart.
The touchless sensations draw moans to my lips, his every inhalation and exhalation now making me rock where I grip the edge of the bath.
His melody plucks at me.
Slipping between my legs again.
Finally, stroking across my clit.
My deep, needy groan brings a satisfied smile to his lips.
The Lethian threads respond, peeling away from my calves, my stomach, and my shoulders, leaving only my pelvis and breasts covered as they coil into the air beside me, forming a cloak of silver.
A single thread wraps around my left wrist, connecting me to the portion floating in the air beside me.
The beat of Stellen’s song grows gradually faster, and the sensation pressing against my clit intensifies, leaving me whimpering.
With the softest touch, Stellen runs his finger down the length of my spine starting at my shoulder blades before he pauses at the back of the corset still clinging to my torso.
Those threads don’t resist, collecting against his finger and peeling away from my breasts, gentle sliding sensations.
His hand continues down my spine, reaching my lower back, where with a swift step, he rounds behind me, gathering the threads covering my pelvis, tugging them away from me.
Leaving me completely naked but for that single thread wrapped around my left wrist.
I’m completely at Stellen’s whim. I’m in a more vulnerable position than I ever thought I’d allow myself to be. Maybe I should feel threatened, but I don’t.
I feel safer than I have for days.
Carefully, Stellen pulls my backside against him, his hands on my hips, my core pressing to his hard length with a tormenting slowness.
He’s still wearing pants. He hasn’t taken them off. But they’re barely a barrier between our bodies.
Giving in to my instincts, I straighten my arms even further and press into him, my core pushing more tightly to his cock, the pressure only heightening the heat between my legs.
A need I’m desperate to quench.
Before I can reach back and tug at his pants or voice what I want, his thumbs brush up across my backside and to my lower back.
More pleasure spikes through my body as he leans over me, his arms wrapping around my waist, sliding up across my breasts, barely brushing my hard nipples before he draws me up into a standing position, my back to his chest. One of his arms remains around my waist; the other angles across my shoulders.
A protest leaves my lips when his humming ceases. “Don’t stop.”
“Thyra.” His voice is soothing, but it only serves to send another shot of heat to my core, my wetness maddening. “I’d love to fuck you that way, but I want to see your beautiful face when you come.”
His palm slips to my breast, a slow, swirling touch, dragging a groan to my lips. “I want to kiss your lips and inhale your moans.”
Turning me to face him, he keeps his arms around me.
“You said you wanted a bath,” he says. “You should bathe before I lose my mind.”
I exhale, pushing the air from my chest, attempting to expel the ache demanding release, an ache that isn’t going anywhere, not when the melody of his voice clings to me, body and soul.
The longer he studies me, his pupils dilated, his lips infuriatingly quiet, the more determined I become to quench this fire within me.
Allowing him to support me, I step into the bath, turning so my left side remains closest to Stellen, as well as to the Lethian armor where it continues to float outside the bath.
The water’s temperature is perfect.
I cast Stellen a challenging glance as I lower myself into the liquid and then I slip my left leg upward, resting my ankle on the side of the bath nearest to him.
He looms over me, but his eyebrows arch.
Making sure he’s watching, I lift my right hand, raise my first and second fingers before I slide them into my mouth, taking my time wetting them.
His gaze darkens, but he doesn’t move. Still doesn’t sing to me.
Without taking my eyes off him, I angle my hand into the water, reaching for my pelvis.
I’m certain the water will be against me. Despite my show, it washes the spit off my fingers, and I expect it will have drawn away the wetness between my legs. Water is not a woman’s friend when it comes to sex.
I fight my flicker of surprise when I find my body slippery.
Oh, but his song is still working inside me.
Groaning with relief, I slide my fingers inside, burying them deep and keeping them still, testing the clench of my inner muscles around them.
My left hand grips the side of the bath, my fingers splaying and then closing again, and my head tips back as the ache eases.
And builds.