Page 55 of Kissing Potions and Elves
LYRION
Iwake up gasping, sweat dampening my brow and trickling down my chest. My breath heaves in heavy pants as my heart thuds violently. Disoriented, I sit upright, my mind tangled in a haze of vivid sensations and ghostly caresses.
Isobel.
The dream was achingly real, her soft cries and breathless moans echoing vividly through my mind. I can still feel her silken warmth beneath my fingertips, the way she responded so beautifully to my touch.
Mystavaches fiercely, rigid and throbbing as raw and primal need pulses through my veins.
I grip the sheets, trying desperately to regain control, but it’s hopeless.
My nostrils flare as the delicious scent of her arousal drifts through the air, a tantalizing mix of lavender and honey that floods my senses, making my pulse quicken.
I’ve never experienced anything so vivid in my sleep before. Realization crashes through me sharply. It can't be a coincidencethat I can smell her arousal from the next room at the exact moment I wake from a dream of touching her.
Everything felt far too real. I believe the potion somehow caused us to share a dream.
Such things are not unheard of with magic. The very possibility sends a fresh wave of heat rushing through me. Mystavis still painfully hard and erect.
Unable to resist, I grip my throbbing length firmly in hand, biting back a groan at the exquisite relief. Closing my eyes, I picture her in my mind—her luminous honey-brown eyes gazing up at me with desire, her full lips parted, whispering my name in a plea, and the gentle flush staining her cheeks as passion claimed her.
I move my hand, slow and deliberate, pleasure tightening sharply within me with every stroke. I brush my thumb over the sensitive crown, spreading the warm liquid seeping from the tip, enhancing the sensation as my grip tightens.
I imagine the soft curves of her body beneath her thin sleep gown, the silk clinging tantalizingly to her lush curves, the fullness of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips.
I picture the way her body responded to my touch, her sweet cries, the way she arched and writhed beneath me, whispering my name in breathless abandon. The memory sends a surge of lust roaring through my veins, mystavgrowing harder, aching for release as I stroke faster, desperately chasing my climax.
Primal instincts surge as my knot begins to swell at the base of my length. My breath hitches sharply, imagining the tight sensation of knotting her, locking our bodies together, filling her with my seed. The vivid image drives my desire even higher.
Pleasure builds and my breath hitches as I picture her coming apart beneath me, her beautiful face flushed with desire, her cries echoing sweetly as she shattered around my touch.
My heart pounds fiercely, every muscle taut and straining a moment before my release boils out of me in an explosion of rapturous ecstasy. My hips jerk involuntarily as I bite back a growl, squeezing my knot firmly as my seed erupts in thick, hot ropes across my abdomen and chest. Each pulse is so intense it’s nearly overwhelming.
Breathless and panting, I collapse back on the bed. As I gaze up at the ceiling, reality seeps back in. Groaning, I throw my forearm over my eyes.
I shouldn’t think of her like this… shouldn’t crave her touch, her body beneath mine. I grip the sheets tightly, forcing my breathing to slow. The dream was no mere fantasy. It was a manifestation of the potion’s magic, pulling us into a shared experience. I’m sure of it. The intensity, the connection, was unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
And that terrifies me, because what I feel for her goes far beyond the potion’s power. Beneath the spell, there is a very real, dangerous truth I’ve been desperately trying to deny. I’m falling for Isobel.
She’s all I can think of. Isobel is smart, beautiful, caring, kind, adorably stubborn, and endearingly chaotic… but in the best kind of way.
My heart constricts as the weight of my arranged betrothal and my family’s expectations bear down upon me. My betrothal to Elyssia cannot be easily dissolved without consequence. Choosing Isobel would not merely disappoint my parents and cause a scandal, it could shatter the careful alliances and delicate balance our Great House has maintained.
But even that thought pales against the dread rising in my chest. What if I’m wrong, and itisonly the potion affecting me in this way? And if that’s true, what might that mean for Isobel?
I don’t want to hurt her. She deserves more than this uncertainty. Determination fills me. I must endeavor to keepIsobel at arm’s length until I am certain of my feelings, free from magic’s influence.
Frustration burns through me. I’ve wrestled with this so many times. I wish I could separate my true emotions from the magic’s effects, but I don’t know if it’s possible.
Yet, as I stare at the ceiling, every heartbeat seems to echo her name as I think of Isobel’s warmth, her gentle touch, her sweet laughter.
I’m walking a razor’s edge, caught between duty and desire, magic and truth.
With a heavy sigh, I push up from the bed and head to the cleansing room to clean and change.
Vaelar help me, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
CHAPTER 28
