“Up.”
“Huh?”
“Knees on the edge. Elbows on the windowsill.”
My brain is mush. I don’t understand.
He guides me, until I’m bent over the tub’s edge, knees braced on the porcelain rim, arms stretched forward until my forearms press against the cold glass.The window where he was.
“Perfect,” Andrik growls from behind me. Still kneeling in the water. “Now spread for me.”
My thighs tremble as I widen my stance. The position leaves me completely open.
“Thalûn, help me,” he breathes, the words ghosting across my skin. “Look at you—still dripping for me.”
His hands roughly grip my hips.
“Do you know what I see right now, Saelûn?” His voice drips with sin. “Your perfect pussy—Swollen. Soaked. Kaemorin.”
I moan against the chilled window.
“And you’re going to stay just like this—” His fingertips skim over my inner thighs. “With your hands on the window where he stood. So you remember—” He leans closer, breath hot between my thighs. “—that I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this.”
His tongue, flat and broad, drags through me in one long, devastating stroke.
My fingers scramble against the windowsill, searching for purchase, finding none.
“Andrik.”
“Don’t you dare move,” he rasps. “Keep your hands right there. I want you to feel it. The glass. The cold. Remember who was on the other side.”
He punctuates the words with another slow lick.
“But it's my tongue inside you now. My mouth worshipping this pussy the way only I can.”
His impossibly long, thick tongue pushes inside me. The cold is shocking, soothing the ache his heat left behind. It’s nothing like his fingers—thicker, textured, curling in ways that shouldn't be possible.
I cry out, one hand shooting behind me to hold onto his antler.
“Just like that, Andri. Don't stop. Please don't stop.”
He groans against me, the vibration makes my eyes roll back.
“That's it, baby,’” he rumbles, the words muffled. “Feel how deep I can go. How well I fit inside you.”
His hands grip my thighs harder, spreading me wider.
“And when you come this time, ” he sucks my clit into his mouth. “It’ll be my name you scream, not his.”
He devours me. There’s no other word for it. No gentleness or hesitation. Just his mouth, relentless and hungry, claiming every inch of me like he’s been starving for it.
“Fuck, you taste—” He groans against me. “So fucking sweet, thal’morin.”
His tongue circles my clit. My hips try to move, but his grip is iron.
“Stay still! Let me do this. Let me erase him.”
One of his hands releases my thigh. Two of his thick fingers press against my entrance.
