Sold to the Night Lord - Chapter 77: Chapter 77

The sight of his mouth on me and his eyes focused on my reactions is maddening.
“Touch your breasts,” he commands.
When I don’t obey immediately, he pulls away from the apex of my thighs.
I instinctively bring my hands to my breasts and begin massaging them with closed eyes, as if that could shield me from dying of embarrassment.
“The nipples,” he says. “Pinch them.”
I don’t dare disobey.
I do as told, while his tongue delves deeper into me, opening me wide.
His licks are slow at first, avoiding my clit and dragging me into desperation.
Then he cups my ass in his hands, lifts my body for better access, and slowly circles my clit.
The combination of his tongue and my hands on my nipples ignites a flame in my lower belly that only grows.
Without warning, one of his fingers slides inside me, and I hear the sound of my wetness with each stroke.
The pressure is there—not painful.
He sucks harder on my swollen clit while moving his finger, doing everything he can to hit the spot that will make me unravel.
He adds another, increasing the pressure.
“You like it,” he says, his mouth still on me.
“I can feel you strangling my fingers, Elara.”
The heat spreading through my veins is searing, and the hunger is almost sickening.
I want more—I want to come undone and then have him show me how he’ll ruin me.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he speeds up, and so does my breathing.
My toes curl as the wave of climax comes crashing down.
His name climbs my throat and comes out in a moan as I tug at his hair.
He doesn’t stop—he keeps licking and torturing me with his fingers until my breathing returns to normal and my body collapses against the mattress.
Only then does he pull away, and I see the shine of my orgasm on his lips.
He licks them, never taking his eyes off me, and does the same with the rest on his fingers, tasting it like it’s his favorite meal.
“As sweet as your blood.”
He looms between my legs, brushing his nose against the skin of my thighs.
I watch his nostrils flare, and his eyes close as he breathes in the scent of my arousal that now fills the room.
When he opens them again, what I see is indescribable.
I’ve never seen such raw hunger.
“Do you want to keep going?” he asks.
“Would you let me go if I said no?”
I try to close my trembling legs, but he blocks me with his body, my sex left at eye level.
“I understand why you’d think that, given my actions—but your virginity is one thing I would never take without your consent.
If I’ve given you pleasure with my tongue, it’s because I told you what I intended to do—at no point did I feel you didn’t want it.
Am I wrong?”
I slowly shake my head, knowing it would be hypocritical to pretend this happened against my will.
“Good.
Then, what do you want now, Elara?”
The word is already on my lips, and even though I try to hold it back, it comes out.
“Everything.”
“It’ll hurt.”
“If it hurts, it means I’m alive, doesn’t it?”
His fingers move to the buttons of his black shirt and begin unfastening them with precision.
Just watching his hands gives me a twist in my stomach, thinking of what they just did to me.
When he reaches the last button, he lets the shirt slide off his shoulders and fall to the floor.
I lose my breath at the sight of his hard, defined torso.
The impulse is stronger than me, and I end up on my knees, moving closer to him to brush my fingertips over his skin.
He holds his breath as my fingers trace the lines of his chest, never looking away from his eyes, drinking in every reaction.
I gently caress the muscles of his stomach until I stop at the waistband of his pants.
I can’t hide the slight tremble in my fingers.
“He doesn’t bite,” he whispers against my ear and kisses the sensitive skin behind it.
His hand joins mine, and I watch as he loosens his pants so I can continue to indulge my curiosity.
My fingers linger on his abdomen, feeling it rise and fall with each breath, and then I help pull his pants down.
Cassian finishes the job and stands completely naked before me.
He cradles my cheek, lifts my face toward his, and brushes his lips against mine tentatively while my hand lowers and explores further.
I touch something warm and hard.
I hesitate over what I should do, until I slowly wrap my hand around the shaft of his erection.
His gaze ignites as my hand moves along his length—careful and unflinching.
Air escapes through his teeth in a hiss as my hand works its small magic on him.
I relax my wrist and move with just the right pressure, up and down his taut skin.
Something moistens my palm, and it’s during that brief moment of hesitation that he takes advantage—pushing me back onto the bed and laying over me completely.
He digs his fingers into my cheeks.
“So it seems you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be,” he purrs.
“Do those filthy books on your nightstand have anything to do with it, Elara?”
I turn my face away to avoid looking at him as a new wave of shame washes over me.
Apparently, he doesn’t know the meaning of privacy and feels entitled to rummage through my things.
“What have those books taught you, little beast?”
His erection presses against my stomach.
“Nothing I want to show you,” I reply.
“Oh, I assure you the day will come when you do.”
Supporting his weight on his forearms, he leans down until his tongue can lick the spot where my pulse throbs.
“It’s a promise.”
His knee nudges between my thighs, and he positions himself between my legs.
The weight of reality crashes over me, tensing my body, and he notices.
He runs a soft caress along my face, brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and takes the opportunity to touch me there so slowly that, under different circumstances, I might fall asleep beneath his touch.
His shaft rubs against my entrance, sliding over it several times, as if giving me the chance to flee.
One of my hands rests on his shoulder while the other tangles in his hair to bring his face closer to mine.
“Don’t add this to the list of things you hate me for, please,” he says before kissing me.
His kiss is gentle, slow, and sensual.
He tries to calm me with the movement of his lips and the taste of his tongue, even as I feel him beginning to slide inside me.
I dig my nails into his shoulder at the sensation of being filled.
He pauses and meets my gaze.
My hand relaxes and slides from his shoulder down his back, where I feel the raised, rough scars scattered across it.
I don’t know why touching them hurts, why knowing they’re real unsettles me beyond words—or why I want to cry for a younger Cassian I never knew.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and I hesitate before nodding.
“This is going to hurt.”
And yes, it hurts.
My flesh strains to accommodate his size, and I feel a sharp pain.
I bite his shoulder as he pulls back and thrusts again.
I can feel the effort my body makes to adjust to him.
It’s a sensation of being completely filled, mixed with a burning pain and, deep beneath it, a slight tingle of pleasure.
He lowers his face until he can lick my cheek, where a tear had slid without me knowing.
He does the same on the other side, indulging his twisted side with the taste of pain.
“There’s not a single part of you I don’t want to taste.”
He thrusts, and I feel it like a brand searing into every nerve ending.
If my nails or teeth hurt him, he says nothing.