Page 80 of What Fury Brings
She traced a finger up the seam of him, and the word he exhaled was “Good.”
Because it did feel good. It felt like nothing he’d ever felt before.
“Good,” she echoed.
And then her finger dipped inside. He exhaled so sharply. Not because it hurt. She couldn’t have been deeper than a single knuckle, but his surprise was impossible to mask.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I thought you knew your body better than I did.” Her tone was self-important. He didn’t care for it.
“I think—”
Her finger slid in a little deeper, meeting the resistance of his internal muscles, but with the slick oil on her hand, she barely had to apply more pressure to break past it. The sensation was… not exactly comfortable.
He said in as calm a tone as possible, “Why is your finger in my ass?”
“You’re about to answer that question yourself.”
Just as he meant to demand she leave his ass alone, she curled her finger.
A burst of pleasure spread through him, cracking like a lightning bolt through his body. The sound he made was unintelligible, even to his own ears.
“There you go,” she said, and she made the motion again.
Gods, what was that? What sorcery was she performing back there? Was it magic oil? She placed her free hand on his hip to hold him steady, and then she found a slow rhythm.
“Fucking hell,” he panted, rocking backward on his toes to meet the thrusting of that finger.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Prince?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he mewled.
Her finger stopped.
“Yes, Olerra,” he corrected, and she continued once more.
He closed his eyes, and there was something about not seeing, only feeling, that made everything so much more erotic.
She kissed his back, nipping and licking where she could reach, never letting up with her finger. She was so careful with him. She would hit that spot that made stars dance across his vision, and then she would retreat, hitting another area inside him. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he did, too.
She was getting him as close to the edge as possible without letting him tip over.
“Please,” he said. “Olerra,” he tacked on belatedly.
“Would you like another finger?” she asked.
He swallowed, sweat trickling down his chest. He barely had to think over the question. “Yes, Olerra.”
Another finger joined the first, and the sensation was uncomfortable at first, until the doubled pressure hit that fucking spot again.
“Look at you,” she said. “All these beautiful muscles and pearly white skin. Oh, I wish you could see. I’m going to order a mirror brought into this room so the next time you’re a good boy you can see yourself riding my fingers.”
Gods but her words were filthy. They excited him to no end. The thought ofnext timewas a sweet promise he intended to hold her to.
The pressure built and built, his cock beading with moisture. Just when he was close to something, she shifted her fingers.
“For gods’ sakes, Olerra!” he cried.
