Page 57 of Caged By the Lich

I move behind her, placing my hands on her hips to adjust her position. The contact sends a jolt through my body, and I have to force myself to focus. "Like this," I murmur, my voice lower than intended.

As we progress through basic defensive moves, I find myself constantly touching her - adjusting an elbow here, repositioning a foot there. Each contact lingers longer than necessary, my fingers trailing across her skin.

"Now, try to block me," I instruct, throwing a slow punch towards her midsection.

Astrid reacts quickly, her arm coming up to deflect my blow. I can't help but admire her natural grace and the fire in her eyes as she concentrates.

"Good," I nod approvingly. "But you need to be faster. Again."

We repeat the exercise, our movements becoming more fluid with each attempt. I'm acutely aware of every detail - the way her hair falls across her face, the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, the determined set of her jaw.

As we spar, I find myself getting lost in the rhythm of our dance. It's intoxicating, this push and pull between us. I'm no longer just teaching; I'm reveling in her presence, drinking in every moment.

I run Astrid through another drill, my eyes tracing the curve of her body as she moves. Her determination, the fire in her eyes, it's intoxicating. My mind drifts to our first night together, the passion, the intensity. I can almost feel her skin under my fingers, taste her lips on mine.

Fuck. I'm in too deep with this human. But I can't stop. Don't want to stop.

"Again," I command, my voice rougher than intended. Astrid nods, readying herself. She's a quick learner, her movements becoming more fluid, more confident with each repetition. It's almost too much to watch.

I've never gotten hard in a sparring ring before. But there's a first for everything.

She executes the drill flawlessly this time, her body moving with a grace that takes my breath away. Pride swells in my chest, mixed with a hunger I can barely contain.

"Excellent work, little rebel," I praise, unable to keep the warmth from my voice.

Astrid's face lights up, a genuine smile breaking through her usual defiant facade. Before I can react, she throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly in her excitement.

The sudden contact sends a jolt through my body. Her scent envelops me, her warmth seeping through my clothes. It takes every ounce of self-control not to crush her against me, to claim her lips right there.

As she pulls back, our eyes lock. The air between us charges with electricity, the tension palpable. I see the same hunger in her eyes that I feel coursing through my veins.

Unable to resist any longer, I lean in. Astrid pauses for a heartbeat, her eyes searching mine. Then, with a soft exhale, she closes the distance between us.

Our lips meet in a passionate kiss, all the pent-up desire from our training session pouring out. My hands find her waist, pulling her closer as she winds her arms around my neck. The kiss deepens, growing more intense with each passing second.

It doesn't take long until he turns into an absolute frenzy. She jerks at my tunic, and I let her rip it free before going forher clothes. My laces are undone, my pants shoved aside, and I groan as she strokes me.

Astrid's clothes hit the floor, a chaotic mess of fabric scattered around us. I can't get enough of her—the taste, the scent, the feel of her soft skin under my rough hands. She's fire and ice, pushing against me one moment, pulling me closer the next. Her nails dig into my shoulders, a sweet sting that only fuels my desire.

I grab her thighs, lifting her off the ground. She wraps her legs around my waist, locking us together. Our kiss is a battle, all tongues and teeth, a clash of wills. She fights for dominance, but I won't yield. Not here, not now.

I swat her ass, a sharp crack echoing through the room. She gasps into my mouth, her body grinding against mine in a silent plea.

"You like that, don't you, little rebel?" I murmur against her lips, my voice low and rough. "You like it when I hurt you."

She glares at me, defiance shining in her eyes. But her body tells a different story. I can feel the heat radiating from her, the slickness between her thighs. She wants this as much as I do.

And fuck do I love to use and abuse her body. I love seeing my marks all over her, knowing that everyone that looks at her will know that she is fucking mine.

I carry her to the wall, pressing her back against the cool stone. She squirms, trying to escape, but I pin her in place with my hips. My cock throbs against her, eager to claim her, but I want to draw this out. Like I always do. Like one day, I'll lose her so I need to savor it now.

I'm not convinced I won't.

I nip at her neck, my hands roaming her body, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples. She cries out, a mix of pain and pleasure that drives me wild.

"Fuck, you're perfect," I growl, grinding against her. "You were made for me, Astrid. Made to take my cock, made to scream my name."

She moans, her head falling back against the wall. Her eyes are glazed, her lips parted. She's lost in sensation, lost in us. I slide a hand between her thighs, feeling her heat, her wetness. She bucks against me, desperate for more.

---