Page 221 of The Ascended
The effort had tears stinging my eyes, my entire body trembling with the strain. The hands slowed, easing the pressure just enough to keep me suspended on the edge of release.
"That’s it," Xül murmured, his thrusts becoming more measured, more controlled despite the obvious tension in his body. "So obedient for me."
Just when I thought I couldn't possibly last another second, his hand reached out, taking my hair from the ghostly one, pulling me up until my back was flush against his chest, his mouth at my ear.
"Now," he commanded with another maddening thrust, his teeth grazing my earlobe. "Come for me now, Thais."
His permission broke the dam, pleasure crashing through me in waves so intense I screamed his name, my body convulsing around him as he continued to drive into me, prolonging the sensation.
His own release followed soon after, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself deep with a guttural groan that sounded almost like my name. For several heartbeats, we remained locked together, his arms around me the only thing keeping me upright as aftershocks shuddered through both of us.
When he finally withdrew, I collapsed forward onto the bed, my legs unable to support me any longer.
The hands dissolved into wisps of darkness, melting back into the corners of the room as if they had never existed. For several moments, the only sound was our ragged breathing, my body still trembling as I lay face-down on the bed, utterly spent.
I felt the mattress shift as Xül moved, and then his hands were on me again—but different now, gentle where they had been demanding, soothing where they had been bruising. He gathered me against him, cradling me to his chest as he settled back against the headboard.
"Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice entirely transformed from the commanding growl of moments before. His fingers brushed the hair from my face.
I managed a breathless laugh. "I think you broke me."
His brow furrowed immediately, concern replacing the satisfied gleam in his eyes. "Did I hurt you? I?—"
I pressed my fingers to his lips, silencing him. "It was perfect," I assured him. "More than perfect."
The tension eased from his shoulders, and he pulled me closer, one hand tracing idle patterns along my spine. The other reached towards the bedside table, grabbing a small vial.
"Turn," he instructed, his voice soft now, almost shy.
I complied, letting him position me so that my back was to his chest. With a flick of his wrist, he uncorked it, pouring a small amount of iridescent liquid into his palm. His hands, slick with the fragrant oil, began to work along my shoulders, finding knots of tension I hadn't even realizedwere there.
"What is that?" I asked, melting beneath his touch. The oil seemed to radiate gentle warmth wherever it touched my skin.
"Healing balm," he explained, his thumbs working methodically down either side of my spine. "It helps with... soreness."
I couldn't help but smile at the hint of embarrassment in his voice. This was a side of him I'd rarely glimpsed—uncertain, almost boyish.
"How many women have you used this on?" I teased, though part of me didn't want to know the answer.
"None," he said quietly.
As his hands continued their gentle work, I felt myself sinking into a pleasant haze, the combination of physical release and his careful touch lulling me toward sleep. Just as my eyes began to drift closed, his voice pulled me back.
"I was worried," he admitted, so softly I almost didn't hear it.
I turned my head to look at him. "About what?"
"That I went too far. That I was too rough." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "That I revealed too much of me."
"And what are you, truly?" I asked.
Now his eyes did meet mine, vulnerability laid bare in their depths. "Selfish. Possessive."
I considered his words. "I'm not afraid of that," I told him. "I'm afraid of your walls."
His hands stilled on my back, and for a moment he seemed at a loss for words.
Then, to my astonishment, he laughed. Bright and startlingly young.
