Page 19 of Cursed Shadows 2

You’re mine, Daxeel. I’ve got you now.

Back against the wardrobe, his hand fisted in my hair, I’m pinned as he thrusts into me. He never fully draws out of my mouth, and there’s always enough of him down my throat that I force my breaths to ease through my nose—but even then, I’m gasping around his thick shaft as he fucks my mouth.

I have no control over how much he forces into me, no control over his harsh juts. Just how he wants it. Him, dominating me.

Towering over me, the cerulean of his eyes gleams in the shadows of the bedchamber. Those inky strands of hair fall into his face, the tips brushing his brow—but my gaze flickers most of all to the tension in his mouth, like he’s fighting back a snarl of desperation.

Above me, his hand shoves, hard, against the wardrobe—and his nails shred into the door the same moment that a throaty sound catches in his chest, and so I know he’s close.

Daxeel has been close since he first plunged into me, he only fights it off to save face. This is a battle he will lose.

The unforgiving force of his thrusts as he fucks my mouth chokes my throat, it’s enough to press the back of my head against the wardrobe with a sprouting ache.

But I keep one hand wrapped around his shaft, the other grabbing at his chest, as though I need more of him, as though I can fist my fingers around a chunk of his flesh and drag him deeper into me.

And then he fucking does it.

Thinks I didn’t hear him. Thinks I didn’t hear the breathy moan that escaped him, the weakened sound that was all too similar to my name.

‘Nari…’

A mere breath—but one that sounded so close to my name.

My response is instant.

My hand falls away from his shaft. His thrust plunges deeper into me; a savage sound ripples through him.

I tighten my throat around him, flatten my tongue against the undershaft—and I suck. I suck like I’m enjoying a nectarquill and guzzling coffee at the same time.

See how long you can fight it off now.

Less than second.

That one suck from my mouth down to my tightening throat, and he’s thrown over the edge.

Daxeel doesn’t finish with just a cry. The excruciation of his pleasure hits him so hard that he’s struck with a shout that goes on and on into a strained groan that just… keeps going.

I devour the sound, the fucking music of it all, a melody for me and me alone.

Sing for me.

With the shocks that jolt his strained body, he shoves deeper into me, trapping me between the wardrobe and his cock that pulsates all the way down my throat.

I roll and flick my tongue along the underside of his shaft, feeling it shiver at my touch.

I swallow everything he pumps into me. There would be no way to not swallow it, not with his cock literally pinning me in place.

So when he suddenly tugs out of me with a hoarse grunt, and that final trickle of seed wets my lips and my face before he drops to his knees, I suck in the deepest breath my lungs have ever fought for.

I slump.

Fingertips pressed against the floor, supporting me, I heave my breaths until the ache in my lungs starts to soothe.

In front of me, Daxeel has his head bowed, but from behinddark tendrils of inky hair, he lifts his dangerous gaze to mine.

If his eyes are oceans, then I would like to drown in him.

His snarl is glazed by the need still simmering in his eyes, a weary one that keeps him on his knees in front of me. But it curls his mouth into something hateful as he spits the words out at me like an accusation, “Where the fuck did you learn that?”

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