Page 71 of Nidev and Lyric

The savage pleasure in his gaze made her entire body quake. “That’s it,” he groaned, his mouth dragging over her throat. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Your voice, begging for me. Nothing sounds sweeter.”

His fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing against her clit with devastating precision. Her head fell back against his chest, her eyes rolling shut as the pleasure coiled tighter, hotter, impossible to contain.

“Nidev… I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled. “And you will. But not until I say so.”

She sobbed, her hands gripping his wrists, her body writhing against him. The feeling of being completely under his control, of him owning her pleasure so utterly, made her mind blank and her heart race.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please, Nidev. I’ll do anything.”

His laugh was dark and triumphant. “You already are.”

His mouth found her shoulder, his teeth sinking into her skin hard enough to make her entire body jerk. And that was all it took.

Her release crashed over her like a tidal wave, her scream echoing through the room, her body seizing against his unrelenting hands. And still, he didn’t stop. His fingers kept moving, coaxing every last tremor from her body until she was a shaking, broken mess in his arms.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. “You sound so perfect when you fall apart for me.”

He finally removed his fingers from her, his hands sliding up her body until they settled on her breasts, squeezing just enough to make her gasp.

****

Lyric’s breath still came in shallow, desperate gasps, her entire body trembling from everything he’d done to her. But the way Nidev held her now, his chest pressed against her back, hishands splayed over her thighs, told her he wasn’t anywhere near finished.

“Time for your next lesson. Touch.” His voice was a low, sinful rumble against her ear. “You want to know what it’s called?”

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding, her body throbbing with a desperate need for whatever he would give her.

He gave a low, guttural groan, his mouth grazing her ear. “It’s called… Touch Your King.”

Her pulse tripped over itself, her gaze snapping to the mirror. The darkness in his eyes, the sheer, merciless hunger blazing from his expression made her entire body clench.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his voice rough and frayed. “Face me.”

Lyric twisted in his lap, her legs straddling his thighs, her hands braced on his chest to steady herself. The sheer heat of him beneath her palms made her breath catch, her gaze drifting down over the golden skin and hard muscle of his chest.

“Look at me,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips with bruising intensity. “And touch me the way I touched you. No hesitation. No mercy.”

Her hands trembled against his skin, the weight of his demand making her entire body throb with heat. But the way his eyes burned into hers, the way his chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow breaths—it gave her courage.

She flattened her palms against his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his tattoos, feeling the way his muscles flexed and rippled beneath her touch. His gaze flickered, a low groan rumbling from his throat as she grew bolder.

“Yes,” he rasped, his fingers digging into her hips. “Just like that. Don’t hold back, Doo-nie. Show me what you can do.”

Her breath hitched, her pulse skittering through her veins. Her hands slid lower, her fingers gliding over the hardplanes of his stomach, the ridges of muscle twitching under her touch. His body was heat and power, every inch of him strung tight with tension.

And it was all because of her.

Her courage flared, her hands trailing even lower until her fingers brushed against the hardness of him, hot and thick and straining for her. His entire body jerked beneath her, a savage groan tearing from his throat.

“Fuck, Lyric,” he choked, his head falling back, his eyes slamming shut before forcing them open again to meet hers. “Look at me while you do it. I want you to see what you do to me.”

Her breath shook as she curled her fingers around him, her touch tentative at first, but growing bolder with every shudder of his body. She moved her hand over him, her strokes slow and firm, her eyes locked on his as his expression twisted with raw, merciless hunger.

“That’s it,” he growled, his hips thrusting into her hand, his control splintering. “Touch your king. Worship me the way I worship you.”

Her entire body clenched at his words, her arousal spiking. She tightened her grip, her hand moving faster, her strokes more demanding. His chest heaved, his muscles straining, his teeth clenched as if he was fighting not to lose himself completely.

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