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She picks up the locket between her thumb and forefinger.
“You’re so fucking good at this,” she says.
Satisfaction rumbles within my chest like a triumphant beast. I pump my cock harder, in unison with her quickening movements. All four heads turn purple, each streaming so much precum that droplets spatter over her tender flesh.
Her breathing quickens, and her words melt into pleasured moans.
“Good girl. Yank that locket and pull it off your neck.”
Alienor’s hand falls from the object in question. I’m about to protest when she grabs my cock and squeezes it with all her strength.
My breath hitches. There’s only so much a man can resist under such extreme circumstances.
She pumps my shaft as every muscle in my body seizes and becomes powerless under her touch. Even my withered heart stops beating in anticipation of what she’ll do next.
“Oh,” she says with a breathy moan, her thumb swiping over each of my heads.
Heat shoots up my shaft, and the muscles them around tighten before loosening with a huge gust of spunk.
“Alienor!”
As I spurt jet after jet of warm fluid, my mind goes blank, and I even forget my name. My spirit soars from my body, making a wingless orbit around the moon.
As my cock stops spurting, I exhale a satisfied sigh. “You moan so prettily in your sleep, Alienor.”
She stiffens, her hand dropping to one side.
Then her eyes snap open.
Alienor blinks once, twice, thrice.
And then she shrieks.
ChapterTwenty-Six
ALIENOR
A scream tears from my throat—not just at the shock of finding myself in bed with the Boogie Man.
He looms above me, his sharp green eyes penetrating mine like daggers. Moonlight streams through the window, coloring the ends of his black hair a sinister shade of indigo.
His unearthly beauty is unsettling compared to the natural features of King Henry.
Panic strikes at my chest like sheet lightning, turning my nerves to ash. The magic protecting the cottage has kept him out until now. How on earth did it fail?
“Alienor,” he says in a voice as cold as death.
I flinch, only for him to stretch a hand toward my face. His fingers are as dark as the leathery pelt on his legs, each ending in obsidian claws.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. If he so much as touches me—
I tumble to the edge of the mattress, my bare skin grazing his wing’s leathery membrane. The bone at its end twitches as though trying to catch me before I fall to the floor, but I throw myself off the bed and land on my ass.
This is it.
The moment he finally gets his revenge.
He’s going to slice me the way he trashed my bedroom.
