Page 68 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

“I know,” I reply, my voice low. “But I’ll make it good for you. I swear it.”

I push forward slowly, giving her time to adjust. The barbs catch slightly, and she gasps, her nails digging deeper into my shoulders. But as I sink deeper, her body begins to relax, her inner walls fluttering around me.

Her breath comes in short, sharp bursts, her hips lifting to meet mine as if she can’t help herself.

When I’m fully sheathed inside her, I pause, giving her a moment to acclimate to the sensation. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted as she breathes through the intensity. “Xirath,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “It’s… a lot.”

“I know,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But you’re taking me so well. So perfectly.”

Her eyes flutter open, and there’s a spark of defiance in them that makes my blood boil. “Don’t go easy on me,” she says, her voice firm despite the way her body trembles beneath me. “I can handle it.”

I growl, my control slipping as I pull back and thrust into her again, this time with more force. Her moan is louder this time, her back arching as the barbs inside her stimulate her in ways she’s never experienced. I set a rhythm, each thrust shorter but more intense, the barbs anchoring me inside her as her body clenches around me.

Her hands roam my body, exploring the space between my hemipenes, her touch sending jolts of pleasure through me. I groan, my hips stuttering as her fingers find the sensitive spot between my lengths. “You’re so… inventive,” I rasp, my voice strained as her touch threatens to undo me.

She smirks, her confidence growing as she realizes the power she holds over me. “You’re not the only one who can be creative,” she teases, her fingers pressing harder, her other hand sliding down to stroke my upper hemipenis.

The dual stimulation is overwhelming, my body trembling as pleasure builds within me. I can feel her tightening around me, her own climax approaching as her moans grow louder, more desperate. “Xirath,” she cries, her voice breaking as she reaches the precipice.

Her orgasm triggers my own, my lower hemipenis pulsing as I spill inside her, my upper length throbbing in her hand. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, the dual release leaving me breathless, my body shuddering with the intensity of it.

When it’s over, I collapse beside her, pulling her into my arms. Her body is still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I press a kiss to her forehead, my own heart racing as I hold her close.

“Seren,” I murmur, my voice low and possessive. “And I’ll never let you go.”

She doesn’t argue. Instead, she curls into me, her body fitting perfectly against mine.

I am wrecked.

I have taken many lovers. None of them have ever felt like this.

None of them have ever unmade me.

This is not possession.

This is devotion wrapped in ruin, a promise neither of us dares to speak.

The world outside these walls does not exist.

Only her.

Only this.

30

SEREN

The warmth is the first thing I notice.

Not from the fire in the hearth, nor the silken sheets tangled around my limbs. This heat is something deeper, something that lingers in the spaces between my skin and my bones, as if he is still there, pressing into every inch of me.

The room is too quiet.

No voices, no movement beyond the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his breath beside me. He hasn’t left.

A part of me expected him to be gone when I woke. A part of me wanted him to be.

That same part, the part that has always fought, always resisted, always run does not pull away.

---