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I reach back and run one hand through Cyran’s mane of white hair.
When I do this, he whispers praises into my ear.
“You are perfect. Beyond words, my queen.”
All this talk of queens and perfection is making my heart ache for what I know he can’t give me. It’s just sexy talk. It’s just words that elevate good sex into amazing sex.
My hand travels down over the angles of Cyran’s regal face, that chiseled, tight jaw. I can feel that he’s close: The muscles of his chest bunch hard against my back. His growling and grunting grow louder.
I reach my other hand downward, caressing my clit that’s inexplicably tight and throbbing again.
I’m overwhelmed with the dual sensations, lost in the arousal in me that builds faster and faster.
My orgasm pulses through me as Cyran spasms, releasing thick jets inside me.
My pussy tightens around him, and he roars.
“Ivy!”
“Give it to me.”
“You have all of me. You can have everything you want,” he grits out.
I’m not expecting such sweet words, and again I feel that tightness in my chest.
He’s making me want to turn around and kiss him, but I let his spasms slowly recede, enjoying the way he groans against my damp skin.
I’m trembling through my aftershocks, feeling thoroughly fucked.
As if I truly am a rag doll, Cyran lifts me off of him and lays me down gently on the bed.
I lie there, breathless, aching for a kiss. A cuddle.
We’ll have to work on his aftercare technique.
I notice his dick is still hard as he gets up from the bed, leaving me alone and trembling on the fur blanket. It bounces as he gets up and pulls on his leather kilt, and I can still see it moving under the material as he pads barefoot to the kitchen area, his bare back marked by my fingernails.
“Do you…do you want to go again?” I ask.
“I am content. It is now time for you to eat and build your strength back up.”
“You’re still hard.”
“Elves do not require a refractory period once they are settled with their mate.”
I try not to think too hard about the terms he uses. Mate and settled. He is a different species. It doesn’t mean the same thing that it means to me, a human. There aren’t emotions attached to all of this.
I’ll just have to get over it.
“Okay. Do you need some help?”
“I do not.”
Cyran has no refrigerator or anything that looks like a human kitchen. But there is a compartment that when he opens it, seems to be built inside a tunnel of snow. He pulls several items out of it and in moments, there are delicious scents coming from the cookstove in the fireplace.
I’m happy enough to watch him, but I’m feeling silly just lying here. “I’d like to help. I mean, I’m not half bad in the kitchen in my own world.”
Cyran shoots me a pleased look over his shoulder. “Very well. Join me, my talented mate.”
