Heat floods through me at his words, at the naked want in his expression. He wants to watch me ride the handle, and excitement shoots through me. I should be offended, should bristle at the demand, but there's something intoxicating inhis certainty, in the trust cracking open between us. The blade stands like an offering, like a test.
I sink to my knees before him, my eyes never leaving his as I straddle the weapon and lower myself. The smooth hilt presses against me through the thin fabric of my underwear, solid and unyielding.
"That's it," Domno encourages, his massive frame towering over me. "Take what you need."
I begin to move, sliding against the hilt, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my core. His hands find my waist, steadying me as I rock against the blade. The danger of it, the wrongness tangled with rightness, makes everything sharper, more intense.
Domno's lips find my throat, trailing hot kisses along my pulse point as I ride the weapon. His teeth graze my earlobe, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
"So beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "Now let me see how well you take being stretched."
His hand slides under my skirt, pulling aside my underwear. I'm so wet that it doesn't take much effort at all to soak the handle, and then he's dragging me over it, encouraging me to sink down. I moan as it fills me, his eyes watching every little emotion that leaks out as I do.
My hands find purchase on his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle there as pressure builds low in my belly. He touches me everywhere, reverent and unhurried—a palm cupping my breast through my shirt, fingers tracing the curve of my hip, lips mapping the constellation of freckles across my collarbone.
"Let me see you," he urges, his voice a rough caress. "I want to see you lost in pleasure, Esalyn."
The intensity builds as I move faster, desperate for release. My thighs begin to shake with exertion, with want. Domno'shand slides between us, his thumb finding the exact spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids as I slam my body down harder on the hilt.
"That's it," he encourages, his golden eyes blazing. "Let go for me."
When I finish, it's with his name on my lips and buried against his shoulder, a half-sob that tears from my throat before I can stop it. The release crashes through me in waves, and I clutch at him like he's the only solid thing in a world turned liquid.
The moment after, when my breath still comes in gasps and my limbs feel boneless, I fold into him completely. His arms encircle me, holding me like something sacred, precious. He presses his face into my hair, and I feel rather than hear the shaky exhale that passes through him.
He helps pull me off the handle, cradling me in his arms, whispering affectionate words of praise in my ear. I can feel how much he wants me, and yet, he makes no effort to have me straddle him next. And it hits me that he was thoughtful in helping me find my pleasure without using me for his. Instead, he strokes my hair and back and holds me.
This quiet moment feels even more intimate than what came before—this silent acknowledgment that whatever stands between us has transformed into something neither of us were searching for but somehow found anyway.
17
DOMNO
The morning air tastes different. Lighter somehow, as if the ash and grit that constantly coat Velzaroth have momentarily lifted. I'm leaning against the outer wall of Esalyn's home, watching as she braids Erisen's dark hair with nimble fingers. The boy's eyes keep drifting to the wooden bird I carved him, now clutched in his small hands like it might take flight if he loosens his grip.
"Hold still," Esalyn murmurs, her lips quirking when he squirms impatiently. "Almost done."
I find myself mapping the curve of her smile, committing to memory the way sunlight catches in her hair. Last night plays through my mind in a constant loop—the weight of her against me, the trust in her eyes when she surrendered to pleasure. The memory warms my blood even as it unsettles something deep in my chest.
This isn't what I came for. Not even close.
"Can we go to the eastern market today?" Erisen asks, turning those golden eyes—so like mine it sometimes unnerves me—up toward his mother. "Domno said there might be new stones there."
"After I work." Esalyn secures the end of the braid, then presses a kiss to the crown of his head. "And only if you finish your reading."
The boy nods solemnly, then slips from her grasp and races to me, bird still clutched in his hand. "Will you come with us?"
I reach down without thought, ruffling his hair and destroying a portion of Esalyn's careful work. "Of course."
The ease of the answer startles me. No calculation. No weighing of risks and benefits. Just... yes. Because I want to be where they are.
When have I ever allowed myself what I simply want?
Erisen beams up at me, then darts back inside to gather his books. I watch him go, this child who carries demon blood but none of our scars. Not yet.
"You're staring," Esalyn says, moving toward me. Her steps are lighter today, something guarded having fallen away between us.
I don't deny it. "Hard not to."
