Page 66 of Tristan
He presses a finger into my wet hole; it’s slick with lube—I swear Elves must have the stuff tucked into every crevice they inhabit.Not that I’m complaining.The burn feels good and makes me stick my arse out greedy for more. I hope he’ll grab my cock, but I don’t ask; he’ll give me what he chooses and not a thing more.
He nibbles on my ear. “That’s it my Tristan, fuck my fingers, ride them until you come.”
I do as Corrik says and push back hungry, fucking his fingers until he slaps my arse hard, and I do come in hot spurts over the marbled wall without him ever having to touch my cock.
I don’t take time to bask in the afterglow of my orgasm, and I don’t move without his permission. “May I suck your cock, Corrik?”
“Yessss,” he says.
I get on my knees and swallow him whole, the hot spray of the shower washing over the pair of us.
“You are free,” he tells me, after we’re dried and dressed.
“Free?”
“Yes. A dragon can only be caged so long, I know this,” he says, giving me a rare smile. Corrik is actually teasing me, which means I’m rubbing off on him. “But you’ll remember our lessons during this time, yes?”
I’m not sure what he means by that. Am I to be kneeling by his side from this point forward? I don’t want to ask and look stupid, so I don’t. “Yes, Corrik. Corrik?” I decide to change the subject.
“Yes?”
“Do the Rogue Elves have a prince?”
His face clouds over. “They have a few princes, and one of them is their Warlord. Why do you ask?
“I had a strange dream last night,” I tell him, and for a brief moment I feel the ghost of the Rogue Elf’s strong lips on mine. My possessive husband would not like that. It would send him into an angry fit. “I dreamt a Rogue Elf Prince came to visit me.”
“As long as his name wasn’t Andothair Tar Jian, you’ll be fine,” he says.
Except it was. Icy cold shivers run up my arms and down my spine. If it was a dream, how would I know his name? It isn’t a name my mind could invent.I should tell Corrik.
“What happened in the dream?”
“He said he was going to take me away from you.”
I expect him to look vexed, but instead he’s touched. “At least you want me in your dreams,” he says, pleased.
But it wasn’t about him, not really. I allow him to continue thinking it. I shake my head at him, trying to cover what’s plaguing my mind: Ando. He’s real, he was in my room last night and he’s up to something. I’ll tell Corrik as soon as I find out what that might be. If I tell him now, he’ll be a nightmare to deal with and I can’t spend another day confined to this room.
Thankfully, my stomach is my savior, growling loud enough for Corrik to hear. “By Ylor, that stomach of yours,” he says.
“Is it an inconvenience, Corrik?”
“Never, love. Never. Come along, I enjoy keeping you fed.”
We are alone in the dining room this morning. “Where is everyone, Corrik?”
“I asked them not to be here when we arrived.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
His eyes point meaningfully toward a pillow at the foot of his chair.
“Kneel.”
“Corrik.”
“I could spank you instead. This room isn’t private, maybe we’ll put on a show for people after all?”
