I throw back my head and wail my ecstasy.
“That’s it,” rumbles Selwyn. “Let go. I have you.”
My balls tighten. Euphoria races through me. My orgasm sets me alight. As my cock spurts, some of my magic escapes. Like a slosh from a brimming cup.
Selwyn drinks it up, but I am still so very full.
My lungs heave. My head spins. Gravity is toying with me.
Selwyn slides down the bed. His firm hands gently spread my thighs. I brace myself for his cock, but all of a sudden I’m yelling as his hot, wet tongue is lapping at my hole.
I shudder at the rapture of it. It feels so good, so, so good. This could be heaven, lying here while Selwyn licks ecstasy into my flesh.
A moan tumbles past my lips. A carnal,animalistic sound. Selwyn groans in response.
Colours spark behind my eyelids. Is it really meant to feel like this? I was taught to be quiet. Biddable. Obedient. I was told my body would spill my seed as my soul spills my magic.
Nobody ever said it felt holy.
His tongue licks around and around. Sensation blurs. Everything is golden light that makes me soar. I’m flying through the heavens. Exulting in the sheer joy of it.
Warm, wet, heat. Around and around. Teasing the puckered skin. I can feel myself softening, fluttering, opening.
I’m keening and sobbing. I’m a noisy mess, and I never, ever thought I’d be like this. I don’t think I was much better on my wedding night. How does Selwyn do this to me? How does he whisper to the deep, dark, primal part of myself and coax it into coming out to play?
Do I even care? Does it even matter? He is my husband, I am his consort. The only people who need to be pleased with what happens in our marriage bed are us. What happens between these sheets is private. Intimate and sacred. For us and us only.
If he wants me to sing for him, and I love doing so, where is the sin?
I think it might be all right to surrender to this. Or is that merely what I wish to believe?
His tongue pushes inside me, and there are no more thoughts. His firm hand is still holding me down. There isnowhere for my pleasure to go, so it pours out of my throat in a long cry of decadence and delight.
My body erupts. Another orgasm sparks through every molecule of my being. Another trickle of my magic spills out.
Selwyn doesn’t let me come down. His tongue is replaced by his fingers. He presses on a spot inside me that makes me see stars.
I whimper and writhe beneath him.
“You have been lied to, Little Lamb,” rumbles Selwyn. “You can release your magic when you choose to. Any orgasm distracts the mind enough.”
His fingers burrow deeper, and I gasp. What he is saying is simply not true. Maybe for fey, but not for humans. For a human vessel, it is the dominance of being taken that forces the magic out. It is the act of submission and surrender that allows the mage to pull the magic from the vessel. I know this to be true.
Suddenly my back arches right off the bed as another orgasm rages through me with an awe-inspiring fury. It burns bright and then splutters out. Leaving me sprawled weak-limbed and trembling. And still very full of magic.
“If you trusted me, this would work.”
He sounds sad. I should say I’m sorry. I should at least open my eyes. I should do something. But all I can do is lie here naked and aching.
Colours spark and swirl. A flash of agonising heat flows across my body. My magic is trying to burn its way free. Someone is screaming. It might be me.
“Laurie, I am going to have to take you.”
Obviously. Clearly. Finally.
Selwyn positions himself over me. Between my spread legs. There is oil everywhere. I can feel it smeared on my thighs. I can feel it trickling down my crack.
My hole is open. I think he used three fingers or more.
