Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I’m slipping in and out of drowsiness as Quin removes his clothes. This ticklish pressure . . . I need to rub. Need to feel Quin against me, in me. Need . . . I try to lift my arms around him, but . . . too heavy. I laugh again as he settles himself atop me, his hot, heavy body slowly meeting my burning skin. His engorged length pushes between my thighs, grazing, just grazing . . .
His nose combs along mine and he reaches for something beside us, dangling it before me. A dromveske. But not one I’ve seen before.
He murmurs into my mouth before his tongue follows. “See you very soon.”
We fall into the royal bath with a splash. Warm water and petals shoot up around us and spill over, splashing against the rune doors at each side. I topple Quin against the edge with me sprawled over him. We’re both as naked as we were in his bed, just skin and his flutette. And I’m still on fire. All my nerves are like wicks being lit up at his barest touch.
His fingers skimming up my back . . . sinking into my hair . . . squeezing tight . . .
My soul can feel this sensitive? This aching?
He shifts his hips and I gasp at the pulse of water and the slide of his length against my balls, my tight hole. I clench my thighs around him on a moan, and suck his lip. “Is this happening there too?”
His fingers drag over my hip, the curve of my buttock, and dip into my crack. Magic vibrates through his fingers as he seeks and hides the gentlest tip inside me. I feel the slipperiness spread. “I want to take you soul deep.”
I rut against his stomach, clutching his shoulders so tight. Soul deep and sinful. I want it. I can imagine it, on his bed, both of us asleep but shifting. The tip of his length nudging my pink oiled spot. Like it is here. I imagine our bodies fumbling together, mine slackened with that lavender, while his is wound tight and eager. He’s pushing my knees apart, his restraint fraying, trembling with the ache to drive deeper. Yet maybe some part of him is also trying to slow down, to hold back. Maybe his body is screaming, Just the tip. Just the tip—
I make a debauched sound into Quin’s deep tongue-thrusting kiss, and I shift myself onto him. His hands clench around me as I shallowly bump on his enlarged head. I swivel and make him massage my tight spot. Maybe it wouldn’t be this tight if he hadn’t punished me a whole month.
He grabs my hips and—
Intrusion. Just the tip.
His eyelids shutter, his head tips back. My hold pulses around him, stretching, aching. Everything is heightened nerves, just this much of him rubbing into me and making me see stars. It’s building more and more glorious and agonising pressure. And need . . .
I sink, sink, sink down his length on a tangled groan. His and mine.
Soul deep.
He’s inside me here, and in his bed. In this dromveske and in that body, rooted deep in me like a vow. Every thrust and every breath a tether.
I’m completely at his mercy.
And I love it.
I throb against his stomach and he bites my neck.
Water wakes and petals cling to our skin; every second is glorious and torture. There’s only mounting need, no release. With every thrust, it only grows, until I’m begging and pleading.
When Quin roars into his orgasm, I feel him thicken and pulse inside me and that . . . That has the ache spreading. My whole body is strung tight, like every part of me needs milking, release.
Quin feathers my hair back and kisses my brow. “I know, I know,” he murmurs as he scoops me out of the bath.
There are warm cloaks waiting for us and Quin throws mine around my shoulders, fingers lingering on my clasp. I’m trembling and pushing up against him.
He flings on his own cloak and tugs me gently through the first rune door.
I’m immediately met with the sounds of wet slapping and moans.
It’s Chaos-me bent over his desk, Quin fucking him from behind while all his very important letters get scattered and smudged.
It’s Quin’s memories of his night affected by my experimental capsule.
I immediately feel the scent of our sex like a tight slippery blanket around me and I’m choking in it, my hand shifting up and down my length, pleading for release. Quin wraps his arms around me from behind and I lean back against him as I watch and touch myself.
It’s so raw and real and messy. Quin’s fat cock, the bulging purple tip, the eager way it nuzzles into Chaos’s tiny hole and stretches it . . . The slick sheen of his body and Chaos’s, and the obscene way Quin watches himself disappear into him.