Namoriee couldn’t bring herself to speak with Tyronian as he led her to their quarters. She couldn’t work out how she was feeling. She had followed his request of taking care of Jidu in the stables and finished quickly. She didn’t want whoever he would send to her to have to wait. But when they didn’t come right away, she decided to spend more time with Jidu. She wanted to form a bond with his horse like Leawyn was able to with Xavier’s. She brushed his mane again, gave him treats, and cleaned his hooves.
But still, no one showed.
It worried her, so she embarked to find Tyronian and ensure that he was well. That’s when she found him with the woman who seemed to be just as familiar with her husband as he was with her.
Seeing them touching had caused a discomforting feeling to churn in her stomach that she’d never felt before. When she had said his name, and given herself away, he’d given her his immediate attention. It made her feel guilty for thinking the worst of him.
But still . . . something about the way the woman had looked at him struck something within her. It sent a prickle of awareness up the back of her neck, like her mind was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t guess as to what. Also, she couldn’t help but feel like she knew that woman.
She pushed her troubling musings away from her mind and instead focused on her new surroundings.
She’d never been to the Rhoxolani, but from what Leawyn had told her, Xavier was doing a good job at restoring it. The homes that were built so far were unlike any other she had seen. The structures were long; one house seemed fit to hold ten people, and the foundation seemed to be made of dark clay that was solid and tough, but she wasn’t sure how they made it that way. The roofs, she could see, were a mixture of bark and what Tyronian had called seaweed. Large open doorways, separated only by curtains of thin branches tied with more seaweed, made the doors.
It had been a short walk when Tyronian stopped, letting Namoriee’s eyes feast on the biggest house of them all.
It was settled right on the cliff’s edge, overlooking the ocean. It was tall, and Namoriee had never seen a design like it. Two standing torches, which were more like bowls of fire, stood on either side of the front door, which was elongated and wide. Unlike the other houses, this one had two doors, big and high enough to fit two horses. She tilted her head back as they made their way towards it, trying to see where the roof ended.
“It’s two stories,” Tyronian informed her, catching sight of what she was doing. “The first of its kind. It is Xavier’s hope that when Xillik takes over, he and Leawyn can retire here.”
His hand rested on the small of her back, urging her forward. “Come, let us behold the interior.”
The interior ended up being just as impressive as the exterior. When they walked through the doors, they landed in a massive open space. Two thrones, raised on a platform, overlooked the many tables scattered about. Namoriee counted five fire pits, one in each corner of the room, and one huge one in the center. Tyronian showed her to the door on the left, which led to a large platform that seemed to be supported by beams protruding from the cliff itself.
She had no idea how they managed to achieve that, and she was too afraid to stand upon it.
He showed her through four more doors on the right. One led to the kitchen, and two others led to long halls with beds on each side; one for guests, the other for the servants. The fourth door led to a smaller hall that was divided into two room, each with buckets for relieving the body’s basic urges.
She followed her husband as he led her back and behind the raised platform to a stairwell attached to two ropes. The ropes looked to be encased with steel.
“You can pull the stairs up so that it locks. The upstairs is as big as this room. Xavier wanted a way to protect the people should there ever be an attack,” Tyronian explained as he started to walk up the stairs.
Once they reached the top, she saw that there was another rope connected to some type of pulley hanging directly beside the stairs. He demonstrated how to pull the stairs up and lock it by tying the rope to a hook and flicking a latch. He explained that the latch was to protect the board should someone try and saw the rope.
Namoriee was amazed that Xavier could be so calculating; it seemed that he had thought of everything, including a secret passageway for people locked upstairs to escape should the house get set to flame.
He pointed to the door on the left, which was bigger than the others.
“This one leads to Xavier and Leawyn’s bedroom.” He opened the door to show her.
The main point of focus was the huge bed, big enough to fit four people. A door leading to a raised deck was behind it. On the right side of the room there was a table, a basin of water, and a bowl of fire similar to the one she had seen out front.
He showed her the rest of the bedrooms, which were set up much like Xavier and Leawyn’s, but with smaller beds and without the open space outside. One thing she did notice was that there were no windows downstairs, but each room that faced the ocean had at least two. The bedrooms not facing the ocean—which included theirs—had no windows, but Tyronian demonstrated how part of the roof could be lifted, enabling them to see the sky.
Finished with her survey of their room, she turned and was startled to see Tyronian looking at her with a hunger in his eyes that was quickly becoming familiar to her.
“Want to know the best part of this?” he asked in a low timbre.
“W-What’s that?” she stuttered, taking a tiny step back when he started to prowl towards her, reminding her of the cat he had just a few days ago defeated.
Except this time, she was the prey.
“We’re completely alone, which means I can make you scream as loud as I want, and no one will hear you.”
“And if I r-r-refused?”
His grin was sensually dark, his eyes gleaming with her challenge. “Backing out of your promise already?” he tsked. “I’m disappointed. But you can refuse if you want—it won’t change the outcome.”
He was directly in front of her now, so close their chests touched with each ragged breath they took. She could feel the wetness pooling from her core, and her body felt hot. She flinched when he cupped her breasts, flicking his thumb across her hardened nipples.
She sighed, a tingle traveling up her back when he rained wet kisses up her neck until his lips enveloped her ear, biting the lobe with just the right amount of sting.
“You can try and be quiet,” he whispered. “Hold in your moans while I take you—it will only make me go harder. Faster. Deeper. Until you’re screaming my name. I’ll have you screaming until your throat is sore. I want to make you cry, beg for me to stop because you can’t handle any more pleasure, just so I can make you come all the harder.”
She whimpered when he yanked her to him and ground his erection against her flat stomach. Her knees buckled when he bit her neck, and she would have fallen had he not been holding her up. He soothed the bite with his tongue, sucking on her delicate skin until he was satisfied. She was sure she would have his mark.
He pulled back long enough to take off her dress. Then he did the same thing he had done to her neck on her breasts, and she cried out when he nipped the hardened buds, then took them into his mouth to suckle them much like a baby nursing. Her nails dug into his sides when he slipped a hand down, moving over the curve of her ass and between her legs, inserting a thick finger inside of her from behind.
He wasn’t slow. He wasn’t easy. He moved his fingers inside of her rapidly, bringing her to her first climax quickly.
But she didn’t scream. It was the worst and best thing she could have done because when he pulled back to look at her, she knew that he would do exactly what he had promised.
Tyronian’s hands traveled down Namoriee’s back until they slid over the globes of her ass, squeezing them before lifting her up. He swallowed her gasp when he buried his hand into her chocolate hair and tugged, angling her mouth directly where he wanted her.
His tongue swiped over her plump bottom lip before pushing inside of the crevice of her mouth and entwining with her own soft tongue while he carried her. Their lips stayed attached together even as he lowered her down to the pallets.
He gripped her wrists when she went to touch him, anchoring them above her head with one hand. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, her lips the sweet nectar that could lead him to the end of the earth with just the promise of one more taste. His cock was hard and throbbing, straining against the prison of his breeches, begging to be released.
He kept her wrists pinned with one hand while the other reached down to his belt, unclasping the buckle with quick efficiency. Namoriee’s eyes widened, a glimpse of fear entering her irises.
“W-W-What are you doing?”
His answer was to rip his belt through the loops, the sound similar to a snake hissing. She started to resist, pulling her hands from his grasp weakly as he bent over her, looping the leather around the delicate bone and skin of her wrists and securing them. He leaned back to survey his handy work.
She looked delectable with her hands above her head, her back arched and exposing her lithe body. Her breathing was ragged, drawing his attention to her breast, which fit perfectly in his hand, her light-brown nipples perked and straining.
A flush started from her chest and crawled up the delicate column of her throat, her lips red and swollen from his kiss. But it was her eyes that killed him. They were smoky, her lids heavy, making her already long eyelashes seem longer, glittering with arousal and just the right amount of apprehension. His lips pulled back in what he knew must have been a dark grin, judging from her shiver.
“Look at you,” he whispered. “Little lamb laid out to be devoured by the big, bad, wolf.”
She jerked, groaning when he took the beaded bud of her nipple into his mouth, biting it with enough force for the pain to override the pleasure. He made sure to alternate between the two, his mouth latching on to one while he palmed the other with his calloused hands until he could see the skin pucker and bruise with his marks.
He dragged his tongue from her breasts to her sternum, past the smooth expanse of her stomach, and stopping just above the brown curls that covered her.
“Tyronian,” she sighed, and he could see that she was trembling.
“Shh,” he soothed, kissing her pubic bone. His shoulders were broad, making her thighs spread wide just so that he could settle between them. He placed first one of her legs, then the other, so that they were draped over him. Parting the slick folds, he gazed upon her glistening flesh.
“So beautiful,” he breathed in reverence. “All swollen and pink.”
Goose bumps flooded her skin, and she groaned deep in her throat when he flicked his tongue with barely any pressure against the ball of pleasure that was swollen and needy for him.
He flicked his tongue over her again. “I can see the wetness pool out of you. You want me, don’t you, dirty girl? Does this sweet little cunt know who it belongs to?”
“Ah!” Her back bowed when he lapped at her, inserting his tongue inside of her, swirling so that he wouldn’t miss a drop.
He hummed in pleasure when more wetness coated him, and he didn’t waste any time in devouring her like a man starved. He licked, bit, and sucked at her, seeming never to be satisfied with just one area. When his mouth wasn’t sucking on her pulsing bead, his fingers were there, rubbing his slick fingers in hard circles. He did this until she was moaning and withering beneath him, her hands pulling at her restraints.
Yet, she wasn’t screaming.
He yanked his head back with a growl, slapping her cunt. She jerked violently, her back lifting completely off the pads.
“Tyronian,” she gasped, wide-eyed. “Don’t!”
“No,” he replied, slapping her again, but harder, making sure that he cupped his hands. “I won’t stop.”
He did it again to prove himself. “Not until you come. Which you will right”—he inserted his finger, feeling her womb clamp down on the digit tightly—“now.”
He slapped her cunt again, but this time, he put most of the pressure on her clitoris, watching as she combusted with a shout. She was still coming, her milky sweetness oozing out of her greedy hole when he started to eat her again, greedily lapping up all she gave him. With her hands out of commission, she tried to hinder him by clamping her thighs tight, but it did nothing to stop him.
He wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.
Namoriee was going insane. Her body was so alight with sensation, with pleasure, that she could hardly handle it. Her body was strung tight, alive with the sharp pressure that coiled inside of her stomach, while her cleft spasmed from the onslaught of Tyronian’s mouth. It was almost painful from how overly sensitized she was.
It hurt, but it was the sweetest of hurts.
“Oh, no,” she groaned in desperation. “Please, I’m going to—” she keened helplessly. But just when she was about to go over the edge, he moved lower, the shock of it breaking through her conscious.
“No,” she shook her head, jerking on her wrists at the same time that she tried to move her lower half away from him. “No!”
His only answer was gripping her cheeks with so much strength that she was sure he would leave fingerprints, and spreading them wide.
“Tyronian!” she half sobbed, half moaned.
Something wet pressed against her puckered hole, the sensation so foreign, it shouldn’t have felt good. Her body jackknifed.
“This isn’t right,” she gasped, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. “This isn’t right!”
But it felt right; she hated that it was making her feel good. He was licking her like he licked her cunt, and though the sensation felt odd, she could feel her womb contract, the familiar tightness and almost violent pull in her stomach warning her that she was close to climax.
He moved his lips away only long enough for him to murmur, “I’m going to make you come like this. With my tongue shoved into this tight, untouched hole, just so that I can watch as your essence pours out of you and slides down between these cheeks. Then, I’m going to lick it all up and make you do it again.”
She shrieked when he kept true to his word. His tongue brushed across her other opening and pushed against the puckered skin. He probed, and licked, and sucked.
It was shameful, because though odd, it felt good. But that changed when he inserted a finger inside of her channel while his tongue continued to work against her rim.
It went from merely feeling good, to exceptional. Before she could think for long enough to feel ashamed at how pleasurable this was for her, or even breathe, she splintered into tiny pieces with the power of her orgasm.
She blinked, still dazed from the effect of her release, when she realized how Tyronian had used his grip on her ass to push her butt higher, spreading her wide. With a start, she realized what he was looking at because she could feel it.
Her release was sliding down her inner thighs to exactly where he wanted it to go.
Namoriee stopped trying to stifle her cries, but she wasn’t screaming with pleasure the way he wanted her to. She was sweaty, wisps of hair pressed against her brow, and her chest glittered like misty grass.
He had made her come, and he watched as she started to become aware, her glazed eyes slowly coming into focus until they landed on him. He was standing at the foot of the bed, having left her to take off his pants. He hissed when he gripped his engorged cock, fisting it once. Her eyes followed his hand, and her breathing became uneven again. His cock was jutting straight out. The broad head flared red as it wept its need to be inside of her.
“If I didn’t love having you helpless and at my mercy, I would rid you of your bonds. I can think of a few things your hands could do,” he told her in a voice that he hardly recognized, it was so raspy.
He went back to her and settled between the apex of her thighs. Her hips shifted, either to move away or get closer, he didn’t know which. But he didn’t give her a chance to pull away.
He rubbed his shaft up and down her slit to make it wet before he gripped her underneath her bottom, lifting her to reach his thrust. He slid inside of her tight heat, and she moaned at the sudden intrusion.
He was too ramped up.
He positioned into her with sure thrusts, keeping her body angled in the way that he knew touched the most sensitive part inside of her. He wasn’t going to last long this first round, but he wanted to get her to scream before he came.
“Let go, my sweet,” he panted into her ear. The sound of their flesh joining echoed around them; it was turning him on as much as her whimpers and moans were. Her hands were still held above her head. Her breasts bounced with the rapid pace of his hips, drawing his attention there. He could already see his marks darkening her tanned skin.
He could feel her womb start to clench his member, and he groaned at the feeling.
“I can feel myself stretching you,” he growled. “It makes me want to roar with triumph because I’m the only one who’s been inside of you.” He faltered for just the amount of time it took him to change his angle, pressing into her harder, deeper.
She cried out, her legs wrapped tight around his waist and squeezing.
“Does it hurt?” he groaned, knowing that it had to, but he wanted to hear her say it. “Does it, my sweet?”
“Yes!” she wailed, her eyes squeezed shut in discomfort while her mouth parted in pleasure.
“And why is that?”
“Because,” she arched her neck, shuddering.
“Because why?” he whispered, nipping her earlobe. He needed to hear her say it. “Namoriee, why does it hurt?”
“Because you’re stretching me,” she finally relented on a whimper. He grinned, something darkly sensuous overcoming him. He reached up, gripping her bound wrists with one hand while the other reached down between them until he could feel her wetness.
“Time to start screaming,” ordered. Then he pressed down on the ball of nerves at the same time he sped up the tempo of his thrusts.
He became unaware of his surroundings, his sole focus on his wife’s face as it changed with the extent of her pleasure and pinches of pain. Her brows drew forward and she bit her lip, her nails digging into the thick leather holding her captive.
It could have been minutes, days, months, but he didn’t stop. Even when he spent himself inside of her and she came around him, he kept going until his arms were shaking, threatening to give out on him. Their bodies were slick with sweat, beads of it pooling on each inch of their skin, making the sheets grow damp beneath them.
Her whimpers became moans, her moans became cries, and her cries became pleas. She was almost incoherent with what she was saying, and damn if it didn’t turn him on.
But, finally, she gave him what he wanted.
She screamed.
She screamed his name, she screamed with her pleasure, and she screamed with her release.
He finally took mercy on her when he pulled out of her liquid heat so that he could come all over her stomach and parts of her breasts. He could only think one thing: he wasn’t just obsessed with Namoriee.
He was in love with her too.