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“Close your eyes.” Instantly, he obeyed. “I craft dreams for others, not myself.”
“Magic in the not knowing,” he whispered, remembering my words to him. He believed in hope and light and all things righteous. He wouldn’t if he’d seen my dreams.
I set the pot aside, gripped his dick, and stroked, alternating between massaging and pumping. He trembled and gasped, and it wasn’t long before his breaths came in spluttered moans. His body was a symphony, and I tweaked its every note. The gel was the perfect viscosity to allow my hand to glide, but not too slick that I couldn’t tighten my grip. I pumped, then let go, pumped, summoning racing gasps, and let go, pumped, watched him twitch and buck, and let go, bringing him to the edge before letting him fall back down again. He responded so beautifully, his body now slick with beads of sweat.
Arin clutched hard at the edge of the bed, his fingers turning white.
My Prince of Flowers was trying to resist the approaching wave, and his efforts were admirable, but I controlled him now. I leaned forward and whispered, “You come when I allow it.”
He let out a long, agonized moan. And with his eyes still squeezed closed, he panted and writhed, bucked and shuddered. Every moan and guttural growl told me all I needed to bring him to the edge again. When he was close, I let go, let him cool, and then wrapped him in my hand, encircling just his top two inches—that extra sensitive head. The gel turned creamy with pre-cum, and his cock blushed, hot and pulsing. I’d have had him in my mouth long ago if I could have been certain the gel wasn’t toxic.
“Lark—” His blue eyes fluttered open and his glare pierced my soul.
“Hm?”
“Please?”
My own dick pulsed at his whine. I could have slicked my cock, flipped him over, and hammered him into the bed, wrecking him and making him scream for more. But this moment wasn’t for me. “Please what, my prince?”
His lashes fluttered down and his blunt teeth dug into his bottom lip. “Finish me?”
There was no resisting him. I hadn’t been able to resist him since we’d met, and the years he’d hidden had only heightened my need. I’d make him come, make him scream, make it so every time he came in the future, he’d think of me.
I smothered his mouth with my left hand and pumped viciously with my right. The whole camp didn’t need to know Arin was about to spill for me. His eyes flew open, as though in panic, but when he fixed his glare on me, his golden eyebrows narrowed with murderous intent. Some part of him hated me for this, for making him beg, but I loved that too.
He held my gaze, held it like a drowning man clings to life. But then his overwhelming pleasure broke. His eyes rolled, he thrust his head back into his pillow, his back arched up off the bed, and he moaned into my hand while his cock spurted its load over his quivering abs.
Those vicious but delightful little sparks on the edge of pain wracked him.
I’d been with many men, and none had been such a delight to admire in their pleasure throes as Arin. Gods, the color of his face and chest, how his freckles darkened, his lips plumped, and his chest flushed. I wanted him under me, or in me, whatever he wished, just so long as we were as close as two souls could get.
I freed his mouth, found a cloth, and cleaned him up while he still reeled from the aftershocks. Once he was dry, I propped myself innocently on the edge of the bed, as though nothing had happened. Draven would never know. Although, there was no hiding how Arin’s nipples were as hard as tiny pebbles and his eyes were sex-drunk.
“Pleased with yourself?” His voice had gained a gravelly edge too. Delicious.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to. I merely applied the salve to the desired locations, as requested.”
He laughed a dirty chuckle, but when his gaze roamed me, stopping at my lap, he reached out, probably thinking to return the favor and pump me to climax. I steered his hand away and pressed it down onto the bed.
Concern stole all the warmth from his face. “Sorry, I… Do you not want to?”
I smiled, leaned over, and planted a soft, chaste kiss on his damp forehead. “Another time.” I straightened and stood to leave.
He snatched my hand, jolting me to a stop. “Lark, talk to me.”
How to tell him that what I needed was likely outside his experience? “It’s not you. I require a little more stimulation, that’s all. Please, don’t take offense.”
Now he was puzzledandhurt, which was what I’d been trying to avoid. He’d noticed how I hadn’t reached climax when we’d lain together in his palace bed, and now this… He’d need an explanation, but I wasn’t sure it was one he’d understand. He might even find the revelation too much, especially as the Prince of Love was new to seduction.
“We have dallied too long. I’m sure your warlord will return soon.”
He dropped his hand and pulled the sheet over his lower half. “Yes, of course.”
“You should rest.”
“And you?”
“I’m fine.”
