Page 96 of Worthy Promises
Happy to oblige, Worth closed his eyes as two fingers traced his pucker. The sensation was far more intense than he recalled from their incredible lovemaking in the past. Whatever the fuck was in that potion was working.
Worth concentrated on breathing as his heart rocketed in his chest and Oliver pumped his digits in and out of him. Oliver toyed with his balls and caressed his dick with enough strength to avoid tickling him. Grabbing his own thighs, Worth held on for dear life as his fangs dropped. Both man and dragon were ready.
But Oliver was far too conscientious of a lover to be rushed through the important step of stretching him. Worth squeezed his eyes shut and vacillated between moaning at the lovely attention Oliver was giving him and thinking of prime numbers to keep from adding to the pool of pre-come on his belly.
Three. Five. Seven. Eleven. Thirtee—fuck!
Three fingers worked their way into Worth’s center, and he rejoiced at moving that much closer to having another gorgeous part of Oliver inside him. Amidst the passion and fervor overwhelming him, Oliver cut through it with sweetness as he dropped tiny, precious kisses on Worth’s overheated body. His lips landed on Worth’s knees and thighs, and it helped Worth concentrate on making the night special for them both.
But when Oliver finally pulled his digits away and lined himself up between Worth’s legs, the light shone brightly on his gleaming fangs. Their eyes met, and Worth wanted to smile, but he couldn’t manage it. Every cell in his being was focused on the cockhead spreading his hole open.
Worth sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. Forcing himself to relax was the only way Oliver could get his dick into Worth’s greedy channel. That was everything he wanted.
It took what felt like hours for Oliver to bottom out, and Worth swallowed thickly as his mate slapped his hands onto the mattress. After Oliver gave Worth enough time to adjust to his invasion, Oliver slid out of him and rammed home again a second later. Within three strokes, he was fucking Worth with perfect hard intensity.
“I love you,” Oliver rasped around his fangs.
Worth wanted to repeat the words back to him, but he couldn’t find his tongue. Or maybe it was his brain that had shut off. It didn’t matter. Worth’s body was on fire, and he desperately needed something…anything. His dragon roared, reminding him of the night’s purpose as Oliver steadily fucked him.
The long strokes were welcome, but Worth called Oliver’s name as the owl shifter switched to short, brisk movements that tested his ability to keep any control of himself. Oliver changed position, and Worth instinctively bared his neck. When Oliver’s fangs pierced his skin, his balls emptied, and Oliver’s seed filled him. But that wasn’t what Worth noticed most.
It was the two threads of their souls twisting together and completing an almost perfect circle that brought tears to his eyes as he painted their bellies with come. His dragon whimpered and roared. Worth uncurled his fingers from where they weredug into his thigh muscles and grabbed a chunk of Oliver’s short blond locks.
Oliver’s tongue closed the tiny wound he’d made, then he eagerly thrust his throat toward Worth. After licking him, Worth let his fangs bite into the tender skin. Once again, his mind was filled with their soulbinding. Except it was no longer imperfect. A weak second orgasm flowed through him, but he was far too sated for anything more spectacular.
Worth pulled his teeth free and laved the spot with his tongue a second time. Once he was sure the wound was healed completely, Worth wrapped his arms around Oliver. Oliver’s lips brushed his earlobe.
“I waited my whole life for you, Worthington,” Oliver whispered.
“I’m always here for you, no matter what. I know you’ll be there for me too. I love you, Owlie.”
“I love you too.”
Oliver peppered little kisses on Worth’s flushed skin, and Worth wept a little. They were tears of joy and knowing that he’d found his other half. With Oliver in his heart, he would forever be fulfilled.
Chapter 33
Oliver sat in the living room perusing the portfolio of a rising artist, but he kept getting distracted by the excited children who were being allowed to hold Noirin and Kendrick’s little drakeling. The morning after Oliver and Worthington’s incomparable soulbinding, they’d attended a second Sorcery D’Vaire meeting, which had been rescheduled for that Sunday. Although Worthington and Oliver weren’t alone in their observations of Zarasha’s uncharacteristic clumsiness, no one could sense any trouble with her, nor could they offer any explanation.
It was a minor relief to know that the sorcerers didn’t believe there was anything fundamentally wrong with Zarasha. However, Oliver and Worthington still had concerns. Would her issues grow worse? Why was she suddenly having problems with coordination? Daravius had reported that she’d grown a full inch around her waist and in height, which explained the tearing of her clothing.
How was it possible that theto’faerwas getting bigger? It made no sense to anyone, but all they could do was monitor her. Daravius had approached Zarasha about her struggles, and the entire family had been notified. Like Oliver and Worthington, most of them had noticed Zarasha’s stumbling and were happyto comfort the little girl as she endured this strange, inexplicable stage of her life.
On a more personal level, Oliver and Worthington had also reported their success with the shifter aphrodisiac. To Oliver’s shock, it had intensified their lovemaking. Everything between him and Worthington was incredible, and up until the night of their matebond ceremony, Oliver would’ve sworn it was impossible to get better, but it had.
Since Oliver didn’t want to blush or grow hard in the living room, he set aside his delicious thoughts about the lovely way he’d taken Worthington. Once the sun set, he could focus on how badly he wanted to seduce Worthington while he kissed the man in question and ran his tongue down the length of his long body. His owl hooted with approval at the plan.
With Oliver’s thoughts far from the art he was supposed to be considering for one of his galleries, he was grateful for the distraction of his phone ringing. Although he was trying to keep his mind off a naked Worthington, it was difficult. Oliver shifted and pulled his cellphone from his pocket.
The number on the screen was that of the private investigator Drystan and Conley had suggested could help Worthington locate Ismay. Eager to hear what the man had to say, Oliver swiped his screen and answered.
“Hello?”
“Duke Argent-mate D’Vaire?” the investigator asked.
“Yes, that’s me, but you can call me Oliver.”
“Thank you. I tried to contact His Grace, but I got his voicemail. I left a message, but I thought I’d see if I could speak with you directly.”
