Chapter Fifty-Six Thyra #2
A smile plucks at Stellen’s lips as he kneels beside the bath.
I wait for his lips to part and his song to resume.
His fingertips play across the back of my left hand, tracing back and forth…back and forth…and I’m so mesmerized that I’m not sure when he starts singing again.
Only that my relief is overwhelming.
A low note reaches my ears, driving deep into my consciousness.
I don’t need to move my hand.
Moans wrench from my body, needy and gasping, intensifying the pleasure. But somehow, despite the rush of unbearable pleasure…
Release evades me.
Dear Goddess, I need release.
He lifts my free hand to his mouth, drawing my forefinger between his lips, running his tongue across its length, humming against my skin.
Wave after wave of need washes through me, bringing me to an edge I can’t seem to cross over, until I’m crying for release. “I want all of you.”
His sudden silence wrenches at me.
But his smile…far from cold.
He reaches into the bath, pulling me out with astounding ease. Water rushes off me, but I don’t feel the cold.
My fingers slip from inside me, my palms quickly finding his back as he pulls me into his arms, compelling my legs to wrap around his hips as he carries me the short distance into the bedroom.
My Lethian armor stays close, gliding seamlessly behind us, a gorgeous trail of silver glimmering at the edge of my vision, but Stellen is my focus.
Every breath he takes drags at me, my body trembling as he places me down on the edge of the bed, his hands never completely leaving me, one palm continuing to touch me as he pulls off his pants and lets them fall to the floor.
I don’t have time to look down before he gathers me up against him again, pulling me high, bringing my legs around his waist and keeping me plastered to his chest while he maneuvers himself up and onto the bed.
There, he kneels, keeping both of us upright, my legs around his waist, the tips of my toes pointed and touching down on the bed behind him, my pelvis pressed to his stomach while my hands rest on his shoulders, my eyeline directly opposite his.
He’s holding me up off him.
For a breathtaking moment, he keeps me there, his deep breaths telling me he’s reaching for control.
“I won’t hurt you,” he says, a quiet murmur, another shot of heat making me tremble with need, even though he’s telling me…
He could hurt me, and I’m not sure how.
His voice stronger, he continues. “If you want to stop at any time, we will stop.”
He doesn’t move and it’s clear he’s waiting for me to answer.
My heart is pounding and my breathing is erratic. I struggle to find my voice through the desire consuming me.
I lean in to him, tracing my fingertips across his jaw and around the outline of his lips.
He closes his eyes at my touch but quickly opens them again, focusing on me. “Thyra, do you understand?”
“I understand,” I say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, inhaling the iciness of his skin, a movement that drags my hard nipples across his chest.
With a groan that nearly sends me into madness, he lets me sink downward, adjusting himself with one hand so I very slowly slide onto his cock.
A controlled descent.
First the tip of him, then the top of his shaft.
I gasp.
Dear Goddess, he’s cold.
Not dangerously so. Rather, a shiver of intense pleasure rushes through my body.
My muscles are relaxed and my core is flush with wetness, my body adjusting around him as he lowers me another inch.
Another rush of shivery sensation floods me.
His arms clamp around me, holding me as if that were as far as he’d put me.
I whimper an objection, the ache deep within my core remaining untouched. “I need more.”
“Then take what you need,” he says, a ragged command, but as soon as he speaks, he closes his lips and the stillness of his chest tells me he’s holding his breath.
Despite the exquisite iciness touching my core, a rush of warmth fills my chest.
It would be easy for him to sing to me and manipulate me into accepting all of him, even if it hurt me.
He utters not a single manipulation of sound that could sway me to accept him into my body if I don’t want to.
With a soft moan, I take control, dipping my weight ever so gradually, regulating my slide onto him.
Lower and lower until he finally fills me.
A groan of relief drags from my chest as his cock presses to my deepest pleasure points and tantalizing shots of icy sensation destroy my inhibitions.
Gripping his shoulders, I rise and lower myself again, a long, slow movement taking him out of me and then in again.
I fight the urge to plunge faster, the extended glide of his cold length into my core sending my senses into a spin.
His palms flex against my back, his breathing erratic.
He hasn’t hummed. Hasn’t sung. His voice is now ragged. “Thyra, you could drag me down, tear me to pieces, and I wouldn’t care.”
He isn’t using his Voice. He spoke barely above a broken murmur, and his words are so unbearably raw that my heart could crack.
“Kiss me,” I say, intensely aware that he has rarely claimed my mouth and although I’m not certain why, I’m sure it has something to do with how conscious he is of my emotions. How intently he listens to my moods.
He surges up beneath me, driving himself deeper into me as his mouth crashes against mine, a hungry kiss, a clash of ice and heat that takes my breath away and pushes every logical thought from my head.
I let go of my control, trusting my body and his, riding every plunge and withdrawal as the coil of need intensifies within me, tightening and tightening until I’m crying for release.
His head drops to my breasts, his arm at my back supporting me as I arch while he takes my nipple into his mouth, drawing his tongue across the hard nub.
My body shatters with pleasure. A release that pulls screams from my lips and sends my senses, my mind, my entire being spiraling upward and outward, beyond myself. Then back again, like a coil of fate has wound around us, binding us together.
His mouth moves on my breast, his tongue teasing me, his groan vibrating against my sensitive skin as he lays me back onto the bed.
His body slides smoothly out from mine. His hands stroke my arms, pushing them up above my head, his kisses trailing to my neck, to my earlobe, where he whispers, “Do you want more?”
“I couldn’t possibly want—”
He inhales against my throat; his hand finds my other breast, working my nipple, light touches, hard touches, and everything in between.
Pleasure coils once again deep in my core.
“Yes,” I gasp, a near-desperate need overtaking my senses. “I want more.”