I slid the zipper of his trousers down, my knuckles grazing against the swollen bulge beneath. My whole body sparked at the contact, and I looked up at him, choked by how thick his arousal felt pressing against the confines. His brow rose, as if asking if there was any problem.
I refocused my gaze lower as I tugged his waistband down, my breath stuttering as the fabric slipped past his hips. The trousers pooled at his ankles, and he stepped out of them with a slow shift.
The knot inside me cinched painfully tight when I saw the outline straining against his boxers. His cock was raging to be freed, and my hands shook at the thought of wrapping them around him, of finally claiming the thing I’d fantasised about far too many times.
With one smooth tug, I peeled the last barrier away. He stepped out of it, kicking the boxers aside into the heap of his clothes with a flick of his leg.
And I...stared.
Stupefied.
Thrax’s cock was brutally intimidating. He was rock solid, every vein prominent, as though he’d been ready the second I touched him. My pussy clenched on nothing, pulsing with the thought of taking him inside me, of what it would mean for my sanity if I did.
“You want to touch,Nher?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
His hand threaded into my hair, fisting at the back of my skull. “Then get on your knees for me.”
I didn’t hesitate, never would. I’d always wanted to do this. I sank slowly to the bathroom floor, knees pressing against cold tile, heart ricocheting against my ribs. Up close, his cock was eye level, even more enormous, the sheer size of it making me swallow hard. But the pulse between my thighs swelled hotter, demanding I stay put.
I wrapped my hand around his length, finally feeling him—hard, thick, and hotter than I ever imagined—and the reality sent lightning through my veins.
“Fuck,” Thrax muttered, his fist tightening in my hair. His head tipped back, the muscles in his throat straining. When he looked back down at me, my chest fluttered, half wondering if he felt electrified because someone other than him was touching his dick in six hundred years, or becauseIwas the one touching him. My heart told me to settle for the former, but the unhinged look he was pinning me with told me otherwise. “Maybe you’re going to end my life after all.”
I liked the sound of that.
I stroked him once, slow and steady, and his grip on my hair tightened, as if he needed to anchor himself before I pulled the ground from beneath his feet, reminding me once again that I was the first person doing this to him in centuries. Precum beaded at his tip, slick and glistening, and without thinking I darted my tongue out, licking it away.
The taste of him rolled over my tongue as I looked up through my lashes, meeting his dark, hooded gaze. His cock pulsed in my grip as I took him into my mouth slowly, my lips sliding down the hard length while my hand worked the part my mouth couldn’t reach.
He groaned, head tipping back again, my name spilling out from between his clenched teeth.
Goosebumps raced down my arms, belly somersaulting as my need for him intensified.
Determined to give him more, I dragged my tongue along him from base to tip, then swallowed him deeper into my mouth. His cock nudged the back of my throat, and for a moment, I choked on air.
“Deeper, Sanora,” he rasped, one hand twitching against my head as though he wanted to force me, but stopped himself at the last second. His jaw was clenched, voice unrecognisable as he stared down at me. “I want to hear you gag on my cock. I know you can take more. You were made for me anyway, specifically designed for my sake.”
I was?
Even though those words were fuelled by our act, they tangled with my pulse, lodging in me as if they were truth.
I relaxed my jaw and took him further, gagging as his cock slid down my throat. Tears pricked my eyes as his groan shook the air, his entire body stiffening above me like he was close to coming in my mouth.
A few seconds later, I pulled back, sucking him free with a wet pop. My eyes blurred with tears as I stroked him fast, my spit mixing with the precum slicking his shaft.
I’d seen how he’d fucked his fist, the way he’d done it like it was his mission to wring the life out of himself, and I wasn’t sure I could meet up to that.
But when I looked up at him, I realised I didn’t even need to. He was trying hard not to unravel in my mouth. I wanted him to shatter. To lose every ounce of control, but this time knowing I was the one who did it.
“Guide me with my head,” I whispered, still stroking him with my hand.
Thrax’s hand fisted harder in my hair, but he hesitated. “You’re asking me the impossible. Don’t make me start something I can’t stop.”
I stared up at him, pleading.
“Don’t fuck me with those eyes,” he growled, tilting his head back, like looking at me was messing with his thinking. “I’m nothing but a man at your mercy right now. Use me however you want.”
