“I’m not him,” I say quietly.
Lyria huffs softly beside me, the sound carrying just enough edge to cut through anything heavier.
“No shit.”
A small breath leaves me, lighter than anything that came before it, and I allow it without resistance.
“And you’re not what he made you either,” she adds.
I nod once.
“No,” I say.
And this time, there is nothing in me that questions it.
Our eyes meet, and the conversation stills. I tuck a curly strand of golden red behind her ear, baring her pale neck. When I move in, she eagerly raises her lips to meet my own. This kiss isn’t just about claiming her. It means so much more. It’s an affirmation of a bond that transcends class, race, and time itself.
I slide my arms around her, left hand landing in the small of her back. My fingers brush the slope of her exquisitely shaped bottom. A surge of desire arcs through me, quickening my blood and whetting my appetite for more--much more.
When I press her to me tighter, she molds herself into me like she’s custom made to fit. I can smell her potent arousal, my nostrils flaring as I soak it in. The aerial tea is an impetus for me to kiss harder, longer. Deeper.
I pull away, but only so I can take her hand and lead her to my quarters. No one, servant or dark elf, dares to look twice at us. Good. Because I may not be like Maltos but that does not mean I will suffer their judgement.
Once inside my chambers, I lead her to the bed and hook my finger into the thin strap of her silken dress. Slowly, I peel away the fabric, baring her magnificent skin. My cock stiffens at the sight of her creamy, red-specked bosom, the pink nipples growing stiff themselves.
I pull her in and latch onto one with my mouth. She gasps, holding my head to her chest, fingers running through my hair. I test her reactions, suckling harder, then softer, using my tongue to manipulate her trapped, slick flesh. The firmness hardens to a peak as my hands slide around to squeeze her bottom.
“That feels good,” she gasps between heavy pants. I can feel her heartbeat against my face as I envelope more of her breast into my mouth.
I splay her nether cheeks wide, sliding a finger through her warm and wonderful pussy from behind. It comes away wet, and my cock practically demands that I impale her.
But I do not. There are many ways to demonstrate self control. I will use my self control to make her feel like the most important woman in Protheka--because to me, she is.
I guide her until she sits on the down-stuffed mattress. She looks at me, eyes glassy with desire, chest heaving with pants as she sits upon the silk. I slide out of my own garments efficiently, but not harried or hastily.
“What are you doing?” she whispers as I kneel on the floor before her and put my hands on her thighs.
“I told you, one day I would spend an entire evening exploring every inch of you, body and soul,” I reply, desire rasping my voice. “That night--”
I suddenly push her thighs widely apart, and she lets out a desperate gasp.
“Is tonight!”
I bend my head until my lips brush the skin on her inner thigh. She shivers, fingers tenderly stroking my hair. I leave a trail of fiery kisses on her ready flesh, moving inexorably closer to her pussy. She whimpers in anticipation…
But I divert to her other thigh instead. She gasps, and tries to push m y head back toward where she wants it. But I am in control here.
“Verr, hurry, I’m on fire!”
“Then burn, my little delicacy,” I murmur into her pliant skin. “I won’t let the flames consume you so quickly.”
I bite her, just hard enough for her to feel it. She cries out, and her clitoris swells even more. I slowly work my way up,teasing her all the way, until my mouth hovers over her wide open, dripping wet cunny.
“I must taste you,” I growl, before burying my face in her pussy. She groans, falling onto her back on the bed, becoming my willing instrument.
I suck one of her nether lips into my mouth, savoring the sweet juices, exulting in the way her body rears and squirms. I give equal attention to the other side, my fingers prying her wide open. She has no secrets from me, just as I have none from her.
I worm my fingers inside of her pussy as my tongue strokes her swollen clit. Her hands tighten in my hair, her cries grow more guttural. When I envelop the entirety of her clitoris in my mouth and suckle, she drags in a ragged breath that comes out a split second later as the most puissant scream. A scream born not of pain or fear, but sheer, utter pleasure.
