“Arassa vel k’han,” I murmur into her scalp, Reaper words rasping against her skin.
She shivers. “What does that mean?”
I nuzzle her ear. “Nothing you need to know. Yet.”
She hums, low and smug. The sound goes straight to my cock again.
Control, I remind myself. She's not ready. I’m not ready.
But fuck, I want her again already.
Instead, I pull us both up. She whines, but I silence it with a kiss. Quick. Rough. Possessive.
“Come.”
“I thought I already did,” she mutters, but she follows.
I pull her by the waist to the low dais again, guiding her to sit on my lap. Her bound arms arch behind her back, pushing her breasts up and forward in a way that makes my cock throb against her belly. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed. She looks ruined. Radiant. Ravaged.
And I’ve barely begun.
“You’re going to ride me,” I growl.
Her breath catches. “I’m still?—”
“Sore?” I brush my thumb between her thighs. She’s swollen. Slick. Her pussy clenches instinctively against the touch. “You’re also wet. Soaked for me.”
She doesn’t deny it.
I guide her up, holding her hips. She wriggles, unsure with her hands still bound. I ease her into position, the head of my cock nudging against her entrance. My spurs—sharp, sensitive extensions at the crown—flare slightly. They press against her folds, and her whole body jolts.
“Fuck,” she gasps.
Her cunt is velvet and heat and aching tightness. She sinks down an inch and already she’s panting.
“Slow,” I warn. “You’ll take all of me, little flame.”
She braces, bites her lip—and sinks lower.
My spurs flex and drag along her inner walls, sparking sharp waves of pleasure through both of us. Her moan is half a sob, her body shaking.
“Oh gods, Kallus?—”
“You feel it now,” I grunt, holding her steady. “You feel what I am. What no soft noble boy could ever give you.”
She doesn’t answer. She can’t. Her head falls back, her spine arching as she finally takes me to the hilt.
Her pussy grips me like a vice, pulsing around the full length of my cock, the bone spurs stimulating her from within, pushing her further than she’s ever been.
“Look at you,” I rasp. “Fucking made for me.”
Her eyes flutter open, wide and glassy. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
I grab her hips and guide her into a rhythm. She rides me with abandon, her tits bouncing with each rise and fall, sweat trickling down her neck. Her breath comes in sharp gasps, every sound a hymn to pleasure.
My cock drags through her with every motion, the ridges of my spurs teasing her most sensitive places. She cries out, loud and broken.
“I feel everything,” she pants. “Kallus—I’ve never—it’s too much?—”
