Page 62 of Wicked Depths

"Say it," she demands, her lips dragging over my jaw, her tongue flicking against my pulse.

I swallow, the pleasure too much, too sharp, too perfect.

"I—" My breath stutters, another cry falling from my lips as she moves again, dragging me to the edge, pulling me under.

"You. Are. Mine," she repeats, her voice like molten steel, burning into my very bones.

I break.

I shatter beneath her, my climax ripping through me, my body shaking, every muscle tightening as I fall, as I drown, as I give in.

"Nyxara—" I gasp, barely a whisper, barely a plea.

Her smirk presses against my skin, wicked and knowing. "That’s it."

But she’s not done.

Before I can recover, before my body even stops trembling, she moves. Reaching for something beside us—a seashell, smooth, large, glistening with the faint sheen of magic.

My eyes widen, my breath catching as she drags the shell along the inside of my thigh, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat of my oversensitive skin.

"Let’s see how much you can take, siren," she purrs, pressing the shell against my entrance, teasing, waiting.

I whimper, my hips bucking toward her, needing more, needing everything.

Nyxara chuckles darkly. "Desperate already?"

"Nyxara," I pant, hands clawing at her back, at her hips, anywhere I can reach. "Please—"

"Please?" she muses, dragging the shell just barely inside me, stretching me, filling me. "I thought sirens didn’t beg?"

I growl, trying to move, to take more, but she pins my hips down, watching me squirm, watching me suffer under her touch. She thrusts the shell deeper, and I cry out, my body arching, pleasure slamming through me all over again, raw and unrelenting.

But I am not the only one desperate.

My tentacles curl around her thighs, wrapping her in soft, strong coils, holding her still as I push my magic into her, as I press one slick, glowing tendril inside her.

She gasps, her eyes widening, her grip on my hips tightening.

"You—"

I smirk, arching into her. "Let’s see how muchyoucan take, Dragon Queen."

She snarls, but it breaks into a moan as I thrust inside her, matching her rhythm, matching her hunger, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

We move together, a clash of fire and sea, of dominance and surrender, of something that is neither and both at once.

Her claws dig into my thighs, her breath hot against my lips, our bodies slick and writhing, our moans tangled, desperate.

"Look at you," I breathe, my lips brushing against hers, teasing. "Taking me so well."

She growls, biting my lip, sucking it between her teeth before dragging her tongue over the sting.

I roll my hips, my tentacle pressing deeper inside her, stroking that perfect spot, making her shudder and break for me. One of the suction cups latches onto her clit, pulsing, sucking, and sending sharp, electric jolts of pleasure through her as my tentacle slides in and out of her, stretching her to the fullest.

"Come for me, Dragon Queen," I whisper, licking into her mouth, stealing the breath from her lungs. "Show me how good I feel inside you."

We shatter together, her body tightening around my tentacle, her claws digging into my skin, her moan raw, desperate, wild. My tentacles hold her close as I come apart with her, pleasure washing over us in violent, crashing waves, our magic tangling, twining, binding.

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