Faylinn gasped for air once I pulled away completely, and my hand went to my wet dick, pumping wildly while I watched her catch her breath.
“Open again. Stick out your tongue and don’t swallow until I tell you to,” I growled, stroking my erection hard from base to tip.
Chest still heaving and eyes still watering, Faylinn obliged, sticking her tongue out once more. Pressure grew in my balls, and tingles zipped down my spine as my orgasm ripped through me.
“Fuck,” I groaned lowly as the first jets of my release landed in her waiting mouth. The next few ropes found a home on her chin and cheeks before I pressed closer, making sure she tasted the remainder of my cum.
I held my still pulsing dick long after I had finished, admiring my handiwork as it slowly slid down Faylinn’s cheeks and pooled in her mouth.
“Swallow,” I commanded. Faylinn responded instantly, her throat constricting before her lips popped open once more, showing me the evidence of what she’d done.
Immediately, I sank to my knees and pulled Faylinn tight into my chest, myhands roaming every inch of her as I caressed her skin and peppered her hair with kisses and barely audible words of appreciation.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I settled her on my lap, gently stroking her wet cheek with my thumb. Faylinn’s eyes were closed, a light smile dusting her lips.
She nodded.
“Yes, Rohak, I’m okay.”
“I wasn’t too rough? I don’t want to?—”
Faylinn’s fingers splayed across my lips, effectively silencing my argument. “Check the Bond if you’re so concerned.”
I did, letting her emotions flood me completely until all I felt was her.
“Okay,” I mumbled into her hair after I was certain there was no residual hurt.
We stayed like that for quite some time, coming down from the high of thickening the Bond. It wasn’t completed yet, but that act of intimacy alone should hold it until Faylinn returned to me.
And, when she did, I would do anything in my power to convince her to complete our Bond—to be mine fully.
Because what I felt now, with her in my arms, the Bond in our souls pulsing in contentment, was something I wanted to hold for the rest of my life. It was my new altar to worship on, and I would be damned if I let it slip away.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Bondsmith
One week later
“Bondsmith.” A knock on my door and the sound of Peytor’s voice had me dropping the book I was half-reading down to my lap, finger marking the page.
“Yes?” I called, twirling a lock of hair around my finger. I grew increasingly bored, stuck in this room. Fate had instructed me to stay in Alvor, that there was more for me to do here despite every cell in my body urging me to go to the Far North and find Itanya.
I’d been relegated to these rooms—Folami’s grief and her Bonded triad’s distrust forcing me away from the rest of the rebellion. It’d been weeks since I’d had another visitor, my only company the books and scrolls that were periodically left outside my door.
I could only imagine that either Torin or Peytor was leaving the small tokens out of pity. Torin insisted I was not a prisoner here, but the drab, dark grey stone walls and lack of windows coupled with the locked door spoke a different story.
“You have a visitor.” Peytor’s voice was muffled through the heavy oak door, so I wasn’t certain I’d heard him correctly.
“A visitor?” I parroted, probably dumbly. His soft chuckle told me he didn’t miss the incredulity in my tone.
“A visitor,” he repeated.
I glanced quickly down at my outfit, smoothing the wrinkles in the oversized cream tunic I’d found in the wardrobe. I was in the middle of brushing errantcrumbs from my equally large brown pants when the door unlocked and swung open, revealing Peytor and the face of a woman I never thought I’d see again.
My book tumbled from frozen fingers, thumping to the floor in the silent space.
Peytor half-gestured, half-pushed her into the room. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” he said with a wink before closing the door behind him.
