I do, my body trembling as he fucks me, his cock filling me completely. I’m his, completely and utterly.
Raekon pulls me up into his lap, his massive hands surprisingly gentle as he strokes my hair. His fingers tangle in the damp strands, the warmth of his touch spreading through me like a balm after the intensity of what just happened. His voice is soft, almost reverent, as he speaks.
“You’re mine, Willow. My jalshagar. My soul. And I’ll always, always be here to take care of you. No matter what.”
His words wrap around me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. Not just because he’s holding me like I’m something precious, but because of the weight of what he’s saying.
I blink up at him, my brain struggling to catch up. “Wait, what? Jalshagar? Are you serious?”
He smirks, his red eyes glinting with mischief, and I immediately realize I’ve walked right into his trap. “All right, if you insist,” he says, his voice dripping with mock solemnity. Before I can protest, he slides two thick fingers into my pussy, curling them just right to make me gasp.
“Where was I?” he continues, his tone light, like he’s discussing the weather and not whatever cosmic nonsense he’s about to drop on me. “Oh yes, as my jalshagar, your lifespan is now linked to mine. You’ll live for centuries, Willow. And you won’t age beyond maturity.”
I choke on my own saliva, my body arching into his touch even as my mind reels. “Centuries? Are you—what—how?—”
He hums, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles that make it impossible to form a coherent thought. “Mmm, and your cellular regeneration rate is much higher now. You don’t have to worry about disease, or even significant injuries. Not that I’d ever let anything hurt you.”
My head spins, and I clamp down on the ball gag still in my mouth, a muffled groan escaping me as his fingers tease me toward another orgasm.
“Indeed,” he adds, his voice dropping into that low, possessive growl that sends a wild thrill pulsing through me. “I can fuckmypussy all night long, and you’ll never get overwhelmed or experience pain.”
He pinches my nipple then, the clamp still in place sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through me, and I squeal around the gag.
“Well, perhaps some pain,” he teases, his lips quirking into a wicked grin. “But only because I know how much my little flower enjoys it.”
Before I can process that, he’s unbuckling the gag and pulling it from my mouth. His lips find mine in a kiss so tender it makes my chest ache.
“I love you, Ms. Christian,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice soft but absolute.
I swallow, my throat tight, and manage to whisper back, “And I love you, Mr. Keong.”
His smile is radiant, like I’ve just handed him the stars, and I forget how to breathe again.
Centuries,I think dazedly, my mind still catching up.He’s serious. I’m going to live for centuries.
Raekon’s fingers twist inside me, dragging me back to the present, and I gasp, my body trembling as he leans in to whisper, “Now, where were we?”
CHAPTER 17
WILLOW
The hollowpingof holographic rings materializing across Taylor's panoramic windshield makes my knuckles whiten around the steering yoke. Atlantic waves glitter two thousand feet below us through wisps of cloud, their gentle beauty doing nothing to calm the acid churn in my stomach.
"Eyes forward, little flower," Raekon rumbles from the passenger seat, claws tapping an idle rhythm against his thigh. His crimson eyes don't even glance at the altitude readout flashing amber warnings. "The third ring drifts starboard. Adjust your vector by three degrees."
I bite my lower lip and nudge the yoke. Taylor's modified Vakutan grav-plates hum as we bank smoothly through the luminous circle. Three more rings follow in quick succession - diving, climbing, a tight corkscrew that has my ponytail whipping across my cheeks.
"See?" Raekon's scaled fingers brush my knee. "Just like threading Aunt Mabel's?—"
The engines die mid-sentence.
All sound vanishes. The holograms flicker out. My stomach lurches into my throat as Taylor becomes a six-ton paperweighthurtling toward the ocean. Warning glyphs erupt across every display, bathing the cabin in apocalyptic red.
"You killed the engines!" I scream, already slamming both palms against the restart sequence. The backup power whines to life, but we're still dropping fast enough to make the loose change in the cup holder float.
Raekon doesn't move to help. His smile shows entirely too many teeth. "And?"
"Are youinsane?" My fingers dance across the dash, rerouting power through secondary conduits. The ocean fills the windshield, close enough now to count whitecaps. Some detached part of my brain notes we're at exactly 437 meters when the thrusters roar back to life.