He was going to die of unassuaged lust. It wasn’t just a terrible disease, it was a terminal one.
Wolfe gnashed his teeth together and focused on Rui’s pleasure, strumming his thumb lightly over her nubbin, keeping the wet, warm pressure on her sensitive nipple with his mouth and tongue.
Holding his rampant, tortured cock still inside while her body clenched him tight, squeezing and wringing his aching head until he saw stars behind his eyelids.
Her virtue wasn’t his to take, he kept reminding himself. After the tournament, in a few days, she would leave these lands. Perhaps she had…someone worthy at home. Perhaps all she wanted with him was adventure. To scratch an itch. To satisfy a curiosity.
With any other woman, he wouldn’t have cared. But with Rui…
The organ in the left side of his chest twisted with pain. He determinedly ignored it.
But he wasn’t saintly enough to deny himself this small piece of her.
To be the first to give her this pleasure. To feel the incredible, silky tightness of her body. To witness and experience her undoing at his hands, with his tongue, on his cock.
He wanted to roar with primal possession.
Her cataclysm went on forever, it seemed. And she was loud about it too, filling him to bursting with primitive male pride.
Hedid that to her.
He made her claw bloody streaks down his back and shoulders out of uncontrollable passion. He made her cry and keen and wail with ecstasy, her body greedily clutching him, milking him for his seed.
And when the last quakes and shivers of her climax began to subside, he gave it to her.
He pulled out and rose to his knees, braced beside her hips so that her small body lay replete and limp between his thighs.
“Look at me,” he commanded gruffly, taking his throbbing staff in hand, fisting the head viciously to keep from spilling.
Not yet.
Slowly, she peeled her eyes apart a sliver. Blue fire glowed back at him.
“See what you do to me.”
She opened her eyes wider at that, transfixed and unblinking.
He stared down at her face as she stared avidly at his cock, jutting well past the grip of one hand.
He didn’t have the patience or frankly the fortitude to put on a show. He was well beyond the ability to tease. He needed to come more than he needed air.
And so he began a brisk, hard pumping, using her juices and his own slick to ease the way of his relentless, calloused fist.
Her eyes sharpened in the most mesmerizing way. He’d never seen anything like it.
Though her pupils remained dilated, the irises turned to blue flames, glowing with an internal light, like starbursts in the black night.
She reached out to touch him.
He had the presence of mind to guide her, wrapping one small hand around the base of his stalk, ridiculously pleased that her fingers weren’t close to meeting around the girth. And leading her other hand to hold his stones.
He closed his own fist over hers to show her how to grip him tight without hurting him. Or perhaps hurt him just enough, stalling his release, prolonging this torturously building pleasure within.
She learned fast, watching him closely as she experimented with the pressure of her hand, using just the right amount of strength to pull his heavy sac down when it tried to draw up tight, when he teetered on the edge of release.
He pumped his stalk faster, twisting his fist around the throbbing head with each pass. His other hand was wrapped around hers, both of their hands squeezing his root.
He watched her watch him with wonder. He felt her feel his body pulse and burn for her. His muscles expanding, hardening to stone, His blood scorching, singing in his veins.