Page 146 of The Call of Crimson
Pulling back from her, I growl, “You’re going to come on my tongue, but not before I stretch out this tight little hole. You’re not ready for my cock yet.”
“Aurelius, please,” she moans, her voice a breathy, delicious sound that ignites my primal urge to claim her. “I’m so close.”
“And you willnotcome again until I say so. If you fail, I’ll keep you on edge for hours, denying you any release.”
A frustrated groan is all the response she manages.
“Tell me you understand,” I demand, pushing a second finger inside her tight heat.
“Fuck!” she gasps, back arching from the bed. “Fine, yes. I won’t come until you say.”
Her voice is wrecked with need—and surrender.
With a devilish grin, I return to my ministrations between her thighs, lapping at her core with slow, devastating strokes. I flatten my tongue, tracing from her opening to her clit in long, lazy circles.
Her thighs tremble from the restraint it’s taking to obey my command. I smile against her flesh, then slowly add a third finger to her ass.
“Gods,” she hisses, eyes fluttering shut.
“There’s only one being I’ll ever worship,” I chuckle softly, watching her teeter on the edge of bliss. “And she’s more demon than goddess.”
I pump my fingers in and out several more times before determining I’ve tortured her enough.
“Look at me,” I rasp, desperate to see her eyes as she shatters.
Her gaze locks on mine—bright, dazed, desperate.
“Come on my fingers, Princess.” The command is soft, but firm, and I feel her immediately shatter around my fingers.
The orgasm tears through her, her body shuddering violently as hot, liquid heat floods my hand.
I stroke her through it, coaxing every last tremor from her body.
“That’s my good little demon,” I praise, a dark, possessive thrill racing through me.
Slowly, I withdraw my fingers, smirking in pure male satisfaction as her legs tremble violently. I pepper soft kisses to the insides of her thighs before standing.
“Where are you going?” Breyla asks, brow furrowing.
“I’ll be back shortly,” I say with a wink, striding across the small room.
I shuffle through the belongings in my trunk, looking for the oil I had brought from home on the off chance this moment would arise.
When I return, jar in hand, she watches me with lust-drunk eyes.
I dig out a generous amount of the semi-solid oil, warming it in my palm until it melts into liquid as I spread it over my cock.
Her eyes track the movement of my hand up and down my shaft as I stroke myself until my skin is slick with the oil.
I catch the pink of her tongue darting out to wet her lip and the hunger flaring in her hot gaze.
The bed shifts as I kneel between her parted thighs, hitching them over my shoulders. I rub slow circles into her over-sensitive clit, and she whimpers.
“Please, no,” she mumbles, weakly attempting to close her legs to me. “Too sensitive.”
“I’m doing it for your benefit,” I explain, pushing her legs wider as I align my cock with her tight entrance.
She tenses as the head of my cock presses against her.
