Page 52 of Wicked Depths

Not fear. Never fear.

But trust is another matter entirely.

I hover over her, letting my fingers trace slow, deliberate circles against her inner thigh, teasing, coaxing. My tentacles shift, winding lazily, waiting patiently. I watch her closely, reading every tiny flicker of resistance in her expression, the way her lips part but no words come, the way her magic hums beneath her skin, bracing.

She is not used to letting go. To relinquishing control.

I smirk, dragging my lips up the center of her stomach, pressing a kiss just beneath her ribs. "You’re fighting me," I murmur, my breath hot against her skin. "You don’t have to."

Her jaw tightens. "I am not—"

"You are." I press another kiss to her hip, my fingers tracing higher, slipping beneath the last barrier of fabric. "Let me."

She exhales sharply, her claws twitching against the sheets, but she doesn’t stop me.

I lift my head, meeting her gaze, holding it. "Trust me," I whisper. "Let me make you feel good."

A long silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken things. Then, finally, she releases a slow breath, her hands shifting, no longer gripping the sheets in restraint, but resting against my shoulders, steady, warm.

She exhales slowly, the tension in her body shifting, something flickering in those emerald depths—uncertainty, trust, something raw and unspoken. Then, after a long moment, she gives a single, slow nod.

A challenge. A surrender. A promise all in one.

"Good," I murmur, a wicked smile curving my lips. "Now, let me show you how good surrender can feel."

And gods above, I do.

My mouth meets her slick heat, tasting her,feastingon her.

Nyxara cries out, her hands flying to my head, gripping my hair tight.

I moan against her, letting my tongue swirl, press, stroke—tasting the heat of her, the intoxicating mix of embers and something uniquely her, something rich and dark, something that sparks against my tongue like fire meeting the tide. She is molten, scorching, and I drink her in, savoring the way she shudders beneath me.

My tentacles join in, teasing, probing, one of them slipping inside, stretching her open, coaxing another gasp from her lips.

She bucks, her thighs trembling around me, her claws raking against my scalp.

"Fuck—Vaela—!"

I hum against her, the vibration making her jolt, her entire body tightening as I consume her completely.

"You like this?" I murmur against her. "Beingtakenlike this?"

Her breath is ragged, her body quivering, pleasure winding so tight it’s about to snap.

"Tell me, Dragon Queen," I purr, my fingers joining my tentacle, stretching her open, filling her, moving in perfect rhythm.

Her walls clench around me, her whole body shaking, her back arching off the bed as she shatters.

I don’t stop.

I drag it out, drinking in the way she writhes, the way her voice breaks, the way she moans my name like a prayer and a curse all at once. My tongue strokes her through the aftershocks, my fingers still deep inside her, coaxing every last pulse of pleasure from her trembling body.

And when the spasms finally begin to slow, when her chest heaves with every desperate breath, I let my magic ebb, withdrawing my power like a tide retreating from the shore. My tentacles dissipate, curling back into me like mist vanishing beneath the sun, leaving only my hands, my mouth, and the lingering heat of my touch.

I lift my head, licking my lips, my fingers still inside her, my nails trailing one final teasing scrape along her inner thigh.

Nyxara glares at me, sated yet furious.

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