Unsure, I slide down, rocking back and forth, letting him stretch me, light up my every pleasure center.
“Oh, Cinder,” he moans. My name becomes a prayer.
Liquid slides between us. I want to look, see if it's my desire or if I'm making him bleed.
“Don't you dare fucking stop,” he warns.
That intensity again. Unexpected, bone-rattling.
I've brought a prince of bloodsucking fairies to the brink. It almost makes me believe I might matter. That I'm special. That this connection could be real, lasting.
Come on, Cinder. This is just another Tuesday for him. Take it for what it is.
Gripping his torso, I ride away the intrusive thoughts. Pleasure riots through me, assaulting my senses until I'mgasping, clawing, rocking myself on his massive cock, testing all the sensations.
Then I come.
I come so hard, head dropping, baring my neck. Eyes shut tight.
Later, I might realize I only feel safe enough to do this because of the marshmallows.
Who does that, by the way?
He's made himself completely vulnerable, put himself at my mercy with no real expectation. I know what he wants, but somehow, I know if I decided to leave, he wouldn't stop me. If I wanted to stop, he wouldn't force me to continue.
Not that I can think of stopping. Not when I'm connecting to things inside myself I've never had the luxury to explore before. I ride my way from orgasm to overly sensitized fullness, rolling right into building tension again.
Each drag of his piercings against my sensitive flesh is exquisite torment, pushing me higher, harder. The physical ache expands beyond the space between my legs, permeating my entire being. My hips slam down, wet sounds echoing.
I can't get him deep enough, close enough. It's both utter satisfaction and unchained desire for all of Kaison—his blood, his bones, his soul.
I want to paint it. Sketch his eyes, replicate that intensity when his mask falls away and the real him shines through. So I can look anytime, shiver under his scrutiny.
“So hot,” Kaison grits out, “like fire around my ice.”
His hips surge up to meet mine, his control slipping with every thrust.
“Let go,” I whisper, “give it to me.”
A snarl rips from his throat and he slams up into me, the force of it stealing my breath. His release is a cool flood in my womb, and I nearly lose my mind.
Pleasure spirals tighter, sharper, until I'm balanced on a knife's edge, ready to shatter.
“Come for me,” he demands, his gaze searing into mine.
I come apart with a scream, my nails raking down his chest as I shake and shudder around him. I vaguely register my name, a broken prayer on his lips.
In the aftermath, I collapse, my heart racing, running so hot I fear I might combust. His cool body calms me, though. He drops a kiss on the top of my head before he relaxes under me.
I should say something lighthearted.
This was fun.
It was an interesting experience.
Thanks for the safety bang.
But something has shifted, some fundamental piece of me slotting into place. I can’t let any of those insipid nothings escape my mouth. So after a time, I get up, untie him, and then disappear into the attached bathroom, locking the door behind me.
