Page 56 of Jailer to the Death God
She’s giving me orders again. I don’t complain.
She kneels on the carriage floor between my legs, her body angled slightly sideways because of the cramped space. Her slender fingers enter the flap of my pants and circle my shaft.
At the touch, my muscles jerk and harden.
She slowly guides my cock out—no easy matter, because it’s large and thick. I peer at it.
“Those veins are rather pronounced,” I comment. “Is that normal?”
“Yes.” The Queen glances up at me. “Haven’t you looked at it?”
“Not when it’s in this state. When it’s hard, I try to ignore it.”
She gives a short laugh. “I wish more human men would do that. But there are times when you don’t have to ignore it. Like now.” She strokes the side of the shaft with one finger, almost tenderly. “This is one good thing about your incarnation, Arawn. Enjoy it.”
Her lips contact the head of my cock, parting around it as she pushes me into her mouth.
Shadows explode from my body, flooding up the sides of the carriage, swirling across the curtains, blotting out most of the light leaking through them.
Every sensitive nerve, every bit of thin skin covering my cock has been gloved in beautiful, silky wetness. I can feel the suction of her lips, the light scrape of her teeth, the pressure of her inner cheeks as they compress around my shaft. The tip of me bumps the back of her throat, and she adjusts, taking me deeper.
I’m seeing stars—my entire body is made of stars, of sparkling white light and blue heat. A deep groan quakes through my chest, and the Queen slides off me to say, “Hush! Farley will hear you!”
I grind my teeth to keep from begging her to take me in her mouth again.
She glances around. “The shadows—are you all right?”
“Yes,” I grit out. “I am about to explode. How is this not going to be messy?”
The Queen smiles at me again. “Because I’m going to swallow when you come.”
25
My heart is pounding harder and faster than ever before in my life.
I have the death god in my mouth. And he’s being very, very loud, despite my warning.
I reach up, planning to put my fingers over his lips, but he’s too tall. I can’t cover his mouth and keep sucking him at the same time. So I lay my hand on his chest instead, between the lapels of his open coat, right over his heart.
It’s beating as fast as mine.
There’s a hectic delight in being the first one to do this for him. He tastes better than any of the three men I’ve pleasured this way—clean and faintly salty, fragrant with cedar and sage. The head of his cock is the perfect size and shape, and the saltiness is more intense at the tiny slit where he’s leaking arousal.
He’s grasping the seat, claws shredding the upholstery, his shadow magic swirling around me in a storm of power. The shadowy tendrils have a subtle, vibrating energy to them. I wonder how they would feel against my bare skin.
Heavy groans break from the god’s full lips, and I lift my eyes to his face while I continue tending to his cock. His head is thrown back, exposing the tense, masculine lines of his throat. The top button of his shirt is undone, and I can see the hollow between his collarbones. Luckily for the carriage roof, he has managed to keep his horns or antlers from appearing, but his skin is turning that lovely shade of rich green again.
I bob my mouth faster on him, rising higher on my knees so I can get more of his length into my open throat. My fingers press firmly over his heart.
His body shudders, muscles contracting, and his cock throbs, spurting some of his release down my throat while he groans, a deep sound of relief. I pull back a bit, letting him come on my tongue, and I swallow carefully. I suck on him, coaxing out every last drop.
As I glide my tongue along his warm length, a strange tenderness suffuses my heart.
I didn’t do this because of a promise, or out of a sense of obligation. I wanted it. Craved the sight of him losing control, collapsing under the blissful weight of physical pleasure.
No one has ever devoured me with the debauched enthusiasm of the death god. He seemed to honestly revel in the taste of me. The pleasure that washed over my body was so intense I wanted to cry, because I haven’t felt anything that lovely in months.
I suppose that’s another reason I decided to pleasure him. Sheer gratitude.
