Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Gods, Nyssa… why do you feel so fucking good?” I groan.
Translation… why do you make me feel so much?
Her only response is her body going tight as she throws her head back, screaming out her release, bucking against my hold. The strength of her orgasm startles me so much, I get no more than a half a thrust into her before I’m coming.
My entire body locks as the orgasm utterly fucking destroys me, which includes my wings freezing as pleasure ripples down their lengths.
Nyssa and I plummet downward. With one arm locked around her, I use my other hand to grip her hair and force her mouth to mine. I kiss her as we free-fall, both of us shuddering with pulsing pleasure and without another care in the world.
Except I am aware of gravity, and before we hit the bed, I pull a quick bending of distance that allows us to land gently on the mattress—me on my back with my wings folded underneath, and Nyssa on top of me.
“Oh wow,” she whispers, sucking in oxygen as if she’s been deprived forever. “That was…”
She shudders again, her muscles rippling around my cock, which is still hard and could physically go for another round, but I’m not sure I’m mentally up for it.
That sex was so impossibly amazing, I feel weak.
During that fall, I could almost imagine what it might feel like to be human. Where all the sensations were so overwhelming, I didn’t think I could handle it and would easily perish.
There’s never been anything daunting in my immortal life, and yet the feelings Nyssa provokes scare the shit out of me.
I’m the king of the fucking Underworld. I rule all Dark Fae and judge souls. I can’t afford to be brought to my knees by a human.
Nyssa collapses on my chest, but then immediately pushes up to stare down at me with wide eyes. She looks confused, possibly even frightened.
She starts to pull away, but my hands go to her hips and I pin her in place, my cock still lodged deep inside her. But I’m not thinking about sex right now.
“Are you afraid of me?” I ask, dreading that she might say yes.
She shakes her head. “No. Just what you make me feel.”
Relief nearly makes my head spin, but I push it aside because her admission is monumental. Nyssa is an enigma. She gives nothing away for free.
I know I’m definitely different after that… encounter. Maybe she is too.
“What do I make you feel?”
Again, she tries to push away but I hold her tight. “Tell me, Nyssa. You have nothing to lose and nothing here can hurt you.”
Pain washes over her face, probably a hundred memories hitting her all at once. I’m not privy to what she’s thinking right now, but she had another thousand I saw through the crystal.
“You just… make me feel, and I’ve spent a good chunk of my life learning how to be numb. And when I was numb, I was invincible. Nothing could hurt me. It feels very dangerous to let that protection go.”
“Why did you want to feel numb?” I ask, then hold my breath, waiting to see if she’s ready to let me in and reveal all the things I already know.
She shakes her head but doesn’t try to pull away. “It’s not important.”
“It is to me.”
Her eyes lock with mine, and she seems to be searching to see if I’m lying.
I’m not.
Nyssa’s gaze falls to my chest. “I did a lot of bad things in my life, and—”
“Stop.” Her head snaps up. “I’m not interested in what you did. You’re in Hell already, so it doesn’t matter. I’d like to hear what happened to you that made you think it was better not to feel anything at all.”
“It’s not important.”
“You said that once already, but given that I’m asking again should clue you in that it is important.”
“Why?” she asks, exasperated. “I’m a lowly human who’s not even really alive. Just a plaything—”
I jackknife upward, my arms banding around her, my face to hers. “Don’t ever refer to yourself as a plaything again. How can you even say that after what we just shared?”
I kiss her, long and slow so she has time to digest those words. When I pull back, I ask one last time. “Tell me who Nyssa McKnight was.”
Nyssa’s eyes lock with mine. “She was abandoned. Abused. Beaten.”
My heart pounds because she’s giving me her life, one word at a time. After her mother died, she went into the foster system and never came out. She got shuffled among group homes at first, having to defend herself from the older kids.
“Molested. Overlooked. Forgotten.”
At age fourteen, one of the older foster kids took it upon himself to teach her about the birds and the bees in a very hands-on way. He threatened to kill her if she told anyone.