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"My Elva," he croons.
Swallowing around the desire building, trying to keep my head clear, I fight to focus. "What else is known about them?"
"Not much," he answers, one hand sneaking around to my lower stomach and pressing me back against him. "They were powerful and feared everywhere. A single dragon could destroy a village in moments, leaving behind nothing but ash."
His hardness against my back leaves me speechless, the ache between my legs growing to unimaginable pain. I never thought desire could hurt like this. He's whispering in my ear, telling me stories of fierce and terrible beasts, yet my legs quiver with the need to surrender to his touch.
"Powerful and feared," I repeat. "Sounds familiar."
He chuckles, holding me hostage with the sound and his wandering hands. "I have a love for things that are terrifying and beautiful. I get the feeling you do, too."
I swallow, keeping my hands on the table to prevent myself from reaching for him and letting his barrage of emotions cloud my own.
"Let me touch you, Elva," he breathes, the warmth cascading against my neck. "Let me make you scream for me, fill you with pleasure so intense it finally eases the ache inside you.
"Kai," his name is a whimper. "I can't."
"And why not?" There's no malice to his question, which makes it more dangerous because right now, all I want is to tell him so he can do all the things his words and hands promise.
"I just... I can't touch."
"You have no problem letting Maren or Colm or fucking Tirriel feel your skin," he murmurs, his gloved hand wandering lower until the tips of his fingers dip inside my pants. "Why is it different for me?"
"I—" I clear my throat, trying and failing to fix my voice. "Please, I can't."
"Then tell me to stop," he suggests, giving me an out.
But I'm frozen, his wandering fingers traversing lower and lower until he cups me through my underthings. It's a gentle touch, yet so utterly, wholly possessive that I'm rendered thoughtless.
His free hand moves from my hip up to the nape of my neck, all of his fingers combing into the hair there before gripping it roughly, making me moan, and tugging my head back until we're eye to eye.
"Tell me to stop," he tries again. "But I make no guarantees that I'll listen."
"Gloves stay on," is all I can manage, but he takes my permission like it's a godsend, groaning and grinding himself against me as he grips my pussy just a bit more firmly.
"Yes, my Elva," he says, releasing his punishing grip on my hair.
So agonizingly slow, his fingers drift up out of my pants. Gently, he grips the hem of my shirt, lifting it up over my head before doing the same with the frilly underthings that keep my breasts from his wandering eyes and hands.
When they're released, he moans at the sight, using both hands to cup them. "Fuck, they're so pretty. Look at how perfectly you fit in my hands." With a gentle touch, he thumbs my nipples, making me gasp. One hand traverses down my stomach, untying my waistband and easing my pants down until they fall to my ankles. The other continues its torture on my breast, bringing me to the edge of insanity.
Finally having access to them, he tugs on one side of my panties, releasing it and letting it snap against my skin. The slight sting makes me gasp, and he relishes the sound, rolling his hardness against me. Ceasing his incredible tormenting of my breast, his hand locks around my throat, forcing me to look up at him again, only to find him gazing at me with hunger so desperate it borders on anger.
He grips my underthings firmer, eyes locked on my parted and panting lips. The sound of ripping reaches my ears the second after I feel a slight pinch against my hip, and suddenly, the cool air of the room hits between my legs. I suck in a harsh breath, the small act of delicious violence making me dizzy.
From the corner of my eye, I notice him toss the ruined thing on the table right next to the dragon book. The filthy depravity of it makes me so wet, so wholly and utterly ruined because of this man who hasn't even begun touching me yet.
His fingers taunt and tease all the way down to their destination. When he finally reaches between my legs, the leather grazing my clit, I barely hold back a cry. Gods, how I've tried to give myself this pleasure again and again since I arrived in Oksangui. But that one touch has done more to me than all the disappointing orgasms I've given myself.
"Oh, my Elva, you're soaked. Is all this for me?" he taunts. My jaw drops further open, and I'm unsure how to respond to this. No one has ever spoken to me like this in such an intimate way. Teasing and making me feel degraded and beautiful all at once.
I feebly nod, his firm grip on my neck not letting me do much more. "Of course it is." He nods with me. "And this," he grinds his cock against me again, pulling a moan from us both, "is all for you. Do you feel what you've done to me?"
I nod again, feeling powerful to have brought such a formidable man to this level of madness.
His fingers tease the sensitive flesh, drifting everywhere but where I need them. My body moves of its own volition, trying to chase his touch. With a small smirk, he finally rubs one small circle on my clit, the brief contact pulling a moan from my throat. When he repeats the motion, I moan again, unable to keep silent.
His eyebrows pinch together, his mouth slightly parted as he watches my face, a desperate longing and need in his expression. Again and again, he rubs my clit with the tips of his fingers, the pressure so perfect that I can't help the embarrassing sounds escaping me.
