His fingers worked the buttons of my shirt open with deliberate slowness. The next marshmallow traced a path that made me shiver, leaving trails of sparkling sugar on my skin. I arched into the touch, the memory of clay-covered fingers and shower-slick skin making my head spin with want.
“Happy birthday, little bunny,” he murmured against my throat. As he touched me, something broke free from deep inside—blue light spilling from my skin like luminescent petals caught in an invisible breeze. The tiny wisps multiplied with each caress, filling the space between us with my own personal galaxy. I caught Kronos’s expression in the azure glow, his silver eyes widening with wonder, reflecting constellations of my creation. I couldn’t contain it anymore—didn’t want to. For the first time, I let someone witness this most intimate part of me, let my light dance unrestrained around us both.
Each mote pulsed in rhythm with my racing heart, brightening with every touch. The reverence in Kronos’s face as he watched my magic embrace us both stole my breath—no one had ever looked at my power that way, like it was something precious rather than useful. His fingers traced through a cluster of lights hovering above my chest, and the wisps followed his movement, as if recognizing him as their own. The room transformed into our private universe, myunrestrained self illuminating the truth I’d been afraid to see for so long.
Chapter Fourteen
Marshmallows
“Stay still,” he commanded, surveying my body like an artist considering his canvas. I froze under his molten gaze. The tiny marshmallows glittered between his fingers, each one a delicious threat. His other hand traced the path they would follow, fingertips grazing my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
The first cube settled against my throat, right where my pulse hammered beneath my skin. The sugar was cool and rough. When he placed the second in the hollow of my collarbone, I could already feel it softening, tiny crystals of sugar catching the amber light from his art déco sconces. Over my right nipple, the sensation made me bite my lip hard enough to taste copper. Down my ribs, where my breath caught with each touch, the muscles clenching under his fingers. Into my navel, where the sparkles looked like fallen stars against my skin, the sugar granules tickling sensitive flesh.
His fingers found my jeans, working them open with maddening precision. I wanted to lift my hips, to help, to feel his hands on me, but his earlier command—stay still—echoed in my mind. The final marshmallow left a trail of glittering sugar along my hipbone and down toward my cock, which strained painfully against my boxer briefs. The leather creaked under my white-knuckled grip as I fought to remain motionless.
“Look at you,” he breathed, drinking in the sight of his work. His pupils had expanded until only a thin ring of silver remained. “Sweet enough to devour.”
The worddevoursent electricity racing through my nerves. I wasn’t just prey in that moment—I was a feast laid out specifically for him, decorated and prepared for his pleasure.
Then his mouth found my throat, tongue collecting sugar with devastating thoroughness. The slick heat of it made me suck in a wet, trembling breath, my head falling back to give him better access. Each lick was different—some quick and teasing, barely there before moving on. Others were slow and thorough, his tongue flat and hot against my sensitive skin, keeping me guessing, keeping me trembling. By the time he reached my collarbone, coherent thought was becoming impossible, my world narrowing to the feel of his mouth, the scratch of his stubble, and the points of sugar melting between us.
His tongue traced down my chest, each movement a study in precision. The sugar crystals dissolved under his attention, leaving trails of tingling sensitivity in their wake. He alternated between long, torturous licks that made my muscles clench and quick, teasing flicks that drew helpless sounds from my throat. The slight roughness of his tongue against my nipple had me arching off the couch, forgetting his command.
“I said,” he growled, one large hand pressing firmly on my sternum, pinning me down, “stay still.”
The reprimand shouldn’t have turned me on, but it did. I tried to force my body to obey, though every nerve ending was on fire. His hands tightened on my ribs in response, holding me still for his attention, fingers digging in just enough to leave marks. The thought of carrying his fingerprints on my skin like a brand made my head spin.
“Patience,” he crooned against my skin, his breath cooling the wet paths he’d left, sending shivers racing across my heated flesh. The vibration of his voice rumbled through my ribcage, settling low in my gut like liquid heat. “I plan to taste every last crystal.” His tongue dipped into my navel with devastating thoroughness, collecting the starlit sugar while his grip kept my hips from bucking upward into the contact I desperately needed. The sound that escaped me wasn’t entirely human—half whimper, half growl of frustration.
He took his time with the final marshmallow, the one that had left its trail dangerously close to where I ached for him. His thumbs pressed into my hip bones to keep me pinned as he letme feel every deliberate stroke of his tongue, every careful scrape of teeth. Each time he moved lower, I held my breath, only to have him retreat, teasing, tormenting, never quite where I needed him most.
By the time he finished, I was shaking. Every nerve ending lit up and desperate for more than just teasing touches. The leather cushions creaked under my grip, my nails digging half-moons into the expensive material.“Por favor,”I gasped.“Necesito más…”Pre-cum had soaked through my boxers, making a visible damp spot that his eyes kept returning to with predatory interest.
“Now,” he said, reaching for the black bag with sugar-glazed lips curved in a smile that promised beautiful violence, “should we see what other sweet sounds I can draw from you?”
The toy looked different out of its display box–deep blue glass catching the low light like some ancient magical artifact. The way it curved, how the light bent through it, made it look alive somehow, more real and immediate than it had been in the store’s display case. My breath caught in my throat just looking at it, imagining how it would feel inside me, how the smooth, unyielding glass would press against places that would make me forget my name.
Kronos handled it with the same precise care he’d shown with the marshmallows, turning it over in his hands as he explained settings and features. His voice was steady, professional almost, a stark contrast to the hunger in his eyes and the way his cock strained against his jeans. The patient attention in his voice helped calm my racing pulse, even as his other hand never stopped tracing patterns through the sugar still clinging to my skin.
“We’ll start slow,” he said, showing me the controls of the remote, his thumb caressing each button as he described its function. “Build up to the more...interesting features.” His thumb brushed over a crystal of sugar on my hip, making me shiver. “I want you to feel every sensation, learn what you like best.”
The toy hummed to life with a soft vibration that filled the room, the sound alone making me twitch in anticipation. His free hand slid lower, trailing heat in its wake until he reached the waistband of my boxers.
“Lift your hips for me,” he commanded softly, his voice like velvet-wrapped steel.
When I obeyed, he rewarded me with another lingering kiss on my sugar-dusted skin, just below my navel. His eyes never left mine as he eased the fabric down and off, leaving me exposed to both the cool air and his hungry gaze. I should have felt vulnerable, maybe even embarrassed, but all I felt was a desperate need for him to touch me, to stop teasing and just take what we both wanted.
“Perfect. Now relax and let me show you exactly what this beautiful toy can do.”
The glass was cool as he pressed it against my entrance, slick with lube I hadn’t even seen him apply. My muscles clenched at the foreign sensation, body tensing against the intrusion despite my eagerness.
“Breathe,” Kronosmurmured, his free hand stroking along my inner thigh. “Just breathe for me.”
His fingers paused, the pressure of the toy steady but not advancing. I forced air into my lungs, trying to focus on his touch rather than the unfamiliar stretch. The first breach sent a jolt through my system—not pain exactly, just intense awareness. My body conflicted between rejecting the intrusion and wanting more.
“That’s it,” he praised as I exhaled, feeling my muscles yield. “Your body knows what it wants. Listen to it.”
He worked the toy in with maddening patience, a fraction of an inch at a time, retreating slightly when I tensed, advancing when I relaxed. Each tiny movement sent new sensations cascading through me—the unyielding hardness of the glass, the perfect curve designed to find spots I hadn’t known existed, the cool smoothness warming against my heated skin.
