Page 68 of The Duke and the Disciple

“There’s not a chance I could continue.” Rahn panted, his hands squeezed against the wooden arms so tight, they were shaking.

“Am I satisfactory, Scholar?” She swirled her thumb over the head of his cock, fisting it with the other hand.

“Ah...” Rahn’s belly caved. His eyes rolled back as he nodded profusely. His thighs were clenched into rocks as he strained for control.

Aesylt slid him back into her mouth until his cock hit resistance. Her lips were still an inch or more from the base, and the thought of driving himself down her throat to finish made him gulp.

She was a natural, in a way practice could never improve upon. It was not the first time a woman had taken him into her mouth, but as he looked down at her, working him like a prodigy, he realized nothing that had come before mattered at all.

“Aesylt, I...” Rahn’s knuckles turned to peaks as he bore down. “You need to stop before I...”

“I know...” Aesylt spoke between slurps. She tried to grin, but her mouth couldn’t do more than twitch. “For the notes.”

Rahn released the chair and locked his hands into her hair, knotting it behind her head as his body lifted, his seed coursing into her mouth, every muscle in his body clenching and releasing with her enthusiastic suction.

She waited until he’d ceased moving before pulling away. Her mouth was closed, but he saw her throat moving. Her eyes glistened from how deep she’d taken him.

“How was my technique in this area?” she asked. Gone was the flirtation, and she was his favorite researcher again. It gave him no pleasure to realize it was that look he’d see in his fantasies. Brimming with curiosity and keen for his guidance.

“You... You were...” Rahn exhaled slowly, returning to himself. A delicious shiver tore through him. “Perfect.”

Aesylt beamed. She wiped her mouth and dropped back into a crawl, shuffling out from under the desk, and shot to her feet. Rahn held his breath. He heard the scrape of her chair and then, “Now let’s finish those notes.”

Chapter16

Mercy

Aesylt hadn’t expected the scholar to be so...carefreethe morning after they’d crossed such a significant boundary.

He was a man who held tight to his shame, so she feared he would regret everything they’d done in their little tower apartment, the freezing rain their only witness. Or that he’d announce a swift end of their research, and an overblown concern for her precious chastity.

But he’d actually beenplayfulas they readied for the day, ribbing her about silly things. He’d been a totally different man than the one who had been going out of his way to keep her at arm’s length for weeks. When he’d suggested they get out of the keep for an hour or so and explore the great walled city, she hadn’t known what to make of his unusual enthusiasm.

He laughedas they walked the path of stalls along Wulfsgate’s Mercantile Row, Kezza and a few other guards holding a friendly distance. The freshly fallen snow was powdery and welcoming, perfect for the children playing in the banks while their mothers and fathers finished their weekly commerce. Even as an adult, she recognized good playing snow. She couldn’t wait until Aleksy was old enough to pack onto a slab of wood and slide down the foothills with her.

“Watch this woman’s face,” Rahn whispered, leaning close. His warm breath sent a shiver down her spine, but she spotted the person he was talking about. “This isn’t the first time she’s tried to steer her husband away from the blacksmith, is it?”

Aesylt’s face erupted in a slow grin. The poor woman wasn’t even trying to hide her annoyance with her excited husband, who was perusing a display of gleaming knives like he’d not seen one before. “She should find something she enjoys. I would.”

“And what would you choose?” Rahn asked. She felt his eyes on her.

“Hmm.” She debated how to answer. She’d always loved the markets in Wulfsgate. They had a liveliness that was missing in Witchwood Cross, remote and uninviting for anyone but those already there. “I would go find the inksmith. He makes ink of all colors, not just black, and also mixes the most luxurious paints. You won’t find any like them in the rest of the Northerlands.”

“Do you paint?”

“I used to.”In the before times.

He must have heard the reticence in her voice because he didn’t push.

“And you? What would your favorite stall be, Scholar?”

Rahn tilted his head with a thoughtful look ahead. “Anywhere I can get fresh ink for my notes is?—”

She tsk-tsked her tongue. “Nope. Too easy. There’s more to you than learning, and I’d like to know what it is.”

“You fancy me a mysterious man?” He balked in surprise. “I hate to disappoint you.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully as she waited for him to explain.

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