Chapter Fifty-Seven Stellen
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Stellen
Thyra’s moans fill my hollow spaces.
Every sensitive part of her body is finally mine to explore. The curve of her breasts, the soft skin inside her thighs, the gentle folds and firm nub between her legs.
Mine to taste. Mine to stroke. And then, when I’m certain I’m in no danger of influencing her choices, mine to sing…
Once again, I send her into oblivion, this time with my mouth on her clit, her orgasm so intense that her cries could shatter me into pieces.
With every hum, I give her pleasure, but I cage my own need, my songs ensuring I stay in control.
I have to stay in control.
She just finished her monthly courses. Her fertility will be at its highest soon. I won’t take any chances that she’ll become pregnant.
I must never father a child.
The power of song must end with me.
So I keep my pleasure at bay, humming the notes that will heighten her pleasure while stopping my body from achieving a release.
And, somehow, I don’t fucking care.
This way, she can ride me as much as she likes, as long as she likes.
For the third time, she collapses onto me, her breathing ragged, her heartbeats drumming in my ears, a rhythm I could live my life to.
I stroke her arms and her lower back, a smile on my lips. “Had enough?”
“No,” she growls, leveraging herself back up again, only for a sigh to leave her lips. “Yes.”
She sinks down onto me, fitting her head to the crook of my neck, her breasts pressed to my chest, her body somehow still joined to mine.
I’m certain I’m the one who is bound.
Within seconds, her breathing is calmer. Heavier.
“Bathing room,” I whisper to her.
Her eyes are half-closed, her response a mumble. “Stay here.”
“Pee first. Then sleep.”
“Hmm-kay.” She pushes herself upright, our bodies separating before she angles toward the side of the bed.
I immediately rise, scoop her into my arms, and carry her through the adjoining room and to the toilet room.
When she finishes, I scoop her back up again and carry her to bed, laying her down on the soft pillows and pulling a blanket over her.
I’m not sure when the Lethian armor separated completely from her, but it whispers softly on the other side of the bed. At some point, it has formed a spiral turning around a central space. Every time Thyra orgasmed, the spiral would tighten.
I can’t help side-eyeing it.
But the sighs radiating from the silver threads are softly content and I resolve to leave it be.
I wait another few minutes, sitting by the side of the bed, quietly stroking Thyra’s back in slow swirls while her breathing deepens.
When I’m sure she’s asleep, I head into the bathing room and close the door.
Taking deep breaths, I stand naked near the bath.
There’s no easy way to do this.
I tell myself to fucking get on with it.
Gritting my teeth, I drag up the melody that will release my control.
The quiet song rolls off my tongue, releasing a torrent of unquenched need.
I groan as sensation rages through my body and my ears buzz so badly, my blood could be rivers rushing through my veins, trying to drown me.
My cock is unbearably hard, but it’s my heart that hurts the most.
My fucking frozen heart.
With every hollow that Thyra filled, I must have scraped out a new emptiness.
I need her. I want her.
But I can’t love her. That is an unchangeable fact.
I killed the man who loved her. I took that from her.
And now I’m left holding my fucking cock in my hand and with no way to ease the hurt that really matters.
“Stellen?”
The buzzing in my ears was so great, I missed the door opening.
Thyra stands in the doorway, the blanket wrapped around her shoulder, her braid in disarray, her lips bruised from my crushing kisses. Because kiss her, I did.
She takes in my body and all my blatant arousal but doesn’t miss a step.
With her breathing calm and her movements languid, she closes the distance between us, allowing the blanket to fall to the floor, leaving herself naked as she kneels in front of me.
“Thyra—”
“Hush,” she whispers, her lips brushing the end of my cock, the contact making my jaw clench with a desire I no longer control. “Let me give this to you.”
She takes me in as far as she can, her mouth warm, her tongue stroking carefully. Easing and soothing…and tormenting.
My hands twitch, but I clamp down on my impulses, stopping myself from wrapping my hand around the back of her head, resisting the urge to pull her close or to dictate her rhythm.
My body has held on for hours and I expect her to have to work hard.
But… Fuck.
She slides me out of her mouth to my tip, then back in again. Her hands wrap around my hips, she moans against my cock, and the sound of her needy groan—
My world ignites.
I fight to stay standing while my body feels like it’s breaking, the release tearing through my sanity, ripping apart every logical thought in my mind and replacing it all with her.
She drinks me down, watching me from beneath her eyelashes, humming softly around me as I tremble through the aftermath, her voice giving me an anchor, bringing me back to myself.
Back to a reality that for the first time in a long time is…good.
I shiver when her mouth leaves me, but she remains touching me, planting kisses along my lower stomach, her hands still gripping my hips.
From there, she tilts her head, as if she were now the one listening to the beats of my pounding heart.
I cup her chin in my hand, then reach for her hands, pulling her back to her feet. Scooping up the blanket and drawing it over her shoulders, I tug it closed around her before I tell her, quietly, “Stay warm. I’ll get you some water.”
I didn’t plan this out and I’m lucky there’s a cup by the sink. Filling it, I bring it back to her.
In reaching for the cup, the blanket slips off her shoulders again, but she doesn’t make any move retrieve it.
She swallows the entire glass and then steps back into my arms, completely naked.
“Come back to bed.” She tips her head to see me, her eyes searching mine. “Fuck me without holding back.”
There’s a question in her voice.
It would be easy to say yes.
Slowly, wordlessly, I shake my head.
She rests her chin to my chest. “I guess you’re right. That would be reckless.”
Scooping up the blanket, I wrap it around her once more, lift her into my arms, and carry her back to the bed, where I lay her down.
For the briefest moment, I consider the door, where I would normally stand and keep watch.
Turning away from it, I lie down behind her and pull her close, spooning her.
Her breathing tells me she’s close to sleep, but I have to speak aloud the truth she already knows.
“I can’t love you, Thyra,” I whisper. “I’m not capable of that emotion.”
Her response is quiet. “I understand.”
She takes a deep breath, a sensation that pulls at me before she nudges herself closer to me, her hair tickling my face, her scent filling my chest.
“You may not be able love me,” she says, “but you will never speak a false claim of love to hurt me. You live and breathe your intentions, Stellen, and that’s all I want.”
I close my eyes.
That may be all she wants, but it’s far less than she deserves.