Page 118 of Prize for the King
“Good. Tell me if you think of something. Now turn around.”
He pushes the heavy duvet to the side, and I turn in his lap until my back is to him, unsure what he intends. Magnar holds me tight and lowers himself until he’s half-lying. He pulls me onto his hips, and I straddle him, his erection standing proud between my legs. The sight makes my breath catch.
“Have you ever seen a potter at work?”
XXXVI Clay
“Not only seen,” I say with a frown, not sure how it’s relevant. “I took pottery lessons when my tutors still had hopes of discovering some latent artistic talent within my boring soul.”
He snorts behind me, taking my hands and placing them on his shaft, one above the other. The marks over his wrist gleam gold. With a grunt, he stretches to the side, opening a drawer in the bedside table. He grabs a bottle of the rose oil.
“Boring soul? Your tutors were fools. You are the most intriguing person I know. Now, pet. This is your clay masterpiece. Play with it.”
I giggle at the absurdity of it, and Magnar joins in, chuckling softly. He hands me the bottle.
“I’ll enjoy it. Go on. Oil me up and shape me nicely.”
“Oh. Well. I’ll try.”
I pour a little into my hand and spread it over his length with cautious movements. I know this cock was inside me, yet I’m still intimidated by it. I run my hands up and down, marveling at how little give there is, how it throbs. It’s weighty, and when it slips out of my fingers, it slaps the inside of my thigh quite hard.
Magnar breathes deeply and moves little, making small sounds of pleasure. I almost forget he’s there and focus on my task, caressing him with slick hands. When I’m certain I don’t cause him discomfort,I grow bolder.
His testicles are pulled up tight, and I explore them, feeling the way they roll slightly in the sack of soft skin. Magnar grunts, and I realize he likes it, so I do more of that until they pull up even closer to the root of his shaft.
Next, I focus on his knob. It pulses, more engorged now than when I began touching him, and I run circles around it then press on it. He hisses, his hips flexing hard. I almost fall off, but Magnar holds me steady.
“Was it pleasant?” I breathe, lightening my touch.
“Yes.”
I play with it, drawing a few more noises from him. His breathing is faster, hands kneading my hips where he holds me.
I turn my attention to the tip. It’s dark purple and taut, the skin stretched until it shines. There’s a small, vertical slit, and I run my fingers around it, leaning closer to see. When I press down gently with the tip of my little finger, Magnar’s breath catches. He winds my hair around his fist, holding it loosely.
Next, I play with the fold of skin circling the head, pulling it this way and that, trying to touch underneath. His hips keep working with miniscule thrusts, but he doesn’t say anything to stop me, so I sate my curiosity until I’m satisfied.
Myclayutterly familiar now, I twist both hands around him as tightly as I can and move them up and down with long, gliding motions.
“Fuck!”
His hips strain off the bed, his hold on my side growing bruising. I don’t stop, fascinated. His cock thickens in my hands, darker and more rigid. Magnar makes husky, low noises with every breath, and I don’t stop. My own hips rock where I straddle him, seeking friction.
After maybe a minute of this, he makes a gritty sound, his cockbulging in my hands. Magnar pulls on my hair, tilting my head back, and I just catch sight of thick spurts of milky liquid shooting out of the tip like turbulent water from a fountain. Once, twice, thrice, the liquid shoots up, then falls, covering his length, my hands, our thighs, and even the bed.
If he hadn’t pulled my head back, it would have sprayed my face.
He throbs like a beating heart in my hand, the final trickle sliding down the side of the veiny shaft. When he slumps onto the bed with a long, hissing sigh, I stare at the mess, transfixed. There is justso much.
“Um, why didn’t you warn me this would happen?” I ask.
He laughs, still breathing hard. “That was your masterpiece, pet. I wanted you to get familiar with me on your terms.”
“Oh.”
I lay his cock carefully down on his thigh, though it rolls a little, still half-hard. I realize what just happened. Magnar gave me enormous control over him and his pleasure, and let me explore his most private part freely. It was a show of great trust—and kindness. Being so much more familiar with the intimate workings of a cock, I’ll be more self-assured in bed.
He puts his hand around my belly and pulls himself up to a sitting position, the back of my head pressing to his chest. I slide down with the movement until I sit on his cock, his release coating me.
