I feel like a dying star, just trying to suck everything in and in and in. I’m gasping for breath, clawing Henry’s back, clenching around his cock. I want more of everything. I’m so, so close, it hurts.
His hands flex on my ass, his aura so wide and expansive it’s taking up the entire bed. He’s just as close.
Henry was clear he needed to finish inside me as part of the ritual, but if I don’t finish first, it might not work. We might offend Kennymyra.
I’m hit with the fear of failure, with the horror of a room full of people who loathe me watching as I consummate my marriage with the best sex of my life.
Henry meets my eyes, and he looks suddenly so serious. “You’re safe, Harlow,” he whispers.
I know it’s not really true, but the words are like a match struck in my body. The climax blows through me like a storm.
“Oh, fuck, fuck—” His curses break off as he pumps into me harder and faster.
It’s only the faint warning in my mind that reminds me I need to touch the sigil because I’m about to die of pleasure. I slap my still-bloody palm to the sigil.
I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s like I’m being broken apart and reassembled, all at once made and unmade by pleasure alone.
I scream, loud and throat-shredding. My entire body spasms with the lightning strike of pleasure. I’m blind and breathless—gasping in shallow gulps of air as my body buzzes with ecstasy, the rushing warmthof it filling me up in shivery swells. It goes on and on and I’m bearing down on Henry’s cock so hard. My thighs shake violently. My feet curl until they cramp.
I’m only aware that Henry is still there because of the way he murmurs soft praise between cursing and groaning.
It goes on even longer than the first one, until I’m certain my body and mind will both break. Until I’m practically sobbing with pleasure. Finally, the waves slow and I’m relieved to draw in a deep breath.
But then, Henry bites the soft place where my neck meets my shoulder. The pain sends another wave of pleasure rolling over me, wet heat rushing between my thighs. He grips my hips with bruising strength and shoves his cock as deep as he can get as he spills inside me. We both groan in unison.
He holds himself deep inside me, his hips jerking as the aftershocks hit him.
Henry presses his hand over mine on the golden sigil.
I must look shocked because he smirks and nods at the headboard. “I told you I would get it out of you.”
Sure enough, when I look up, the sigil is glowing golden. It gets brighter and brighter, until I have to squint. There’s a loud metallic crack and a piece of the metal falls away.
The glow fades and the room goes deathly quiet.
Stunned murmurs break out in the crowd, and then they applaud. I’m startled by the reminder of their presence, but the horror is more distant in the drugging afterglow of pleasure.
Henry releases his hold on me and presses up to kneel. He withdraws, and I feel him leaking out of me. His gaze is riveted between my legs, and I let my thighs fall open so he can look his fill.
I tell myself it’s to get the upper hand back, but the truth is I’m so mindless and exhausted right now, I’d let him have anything he wants.
“Get out.” Henry’s voice is like a blade drawn across a whetstone.
The crowd instantly moves toward the chamber door.
He doesn’t look away from my pussy until the door closes behind the last person. The music in the ballroom gets louder, and finally, Henry breaks out of his daze.
I lift the broken piece of sigil from where it landed on the pillow above my head.
“Was this supposed to happen? Did it work?”
Henry scrubs a hand over his face. “I’d say we’re in the clear. No one has ever given so much pleasure they broke the sigil, Harlow.”
I glower up at the self-satisfied look on his face. He can feel victorious this round, especially if it means he’ll let his guard down. I’ll let him look at tonight as a triumph, instead of a reminder that this sigil is the first of many things I’ll break to get what I want.
27
HARLOW
