CHAPTER 33: WANTING

A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped Dax’s lips as her fingers, cool and deliberate, traced a line from his navel downward. He arched his back, his head pressing into the plush velvet chair.

Her touch was pure, undiluted electricity.

She was a vision of controlled power crouched before him, the Queen of a thousand whispered legends. Her gaze, heavy-lidded and knowing, held his as she leaned forward.

The air grew thick, charged with the scent of her perfume and his own raw, mounting need. With a slowness that was its own form of exquisite tyranny, she placed a soft, closed-mouth kiss right at the swollen, aching tip of his cock.

A jolt of pure sensation, bright and sharp, lanced through him. It was a feeling so intense it bordered on pain, a punishment he welcomed with a shudder.

She did it again.

Another soft press of her lips, another wave of tingling fire that made his thighs tense and his breath hitch. She was repaying his own earlier teasing, weaponizing his desire, and he was utterly, completely at her mercy.

"Damn it... stop teasing me, please," he pleaded, his voice a ragged, broken thing.

A slow, triumphant smile curved her perfect lips.

Finally. With a grace that belied the raw hunger in her eyes, she parted her lips and took the head of his cock into the wet, devastating heat of her mouth.

Dax’s groan was torn from the very core of his being. He twitched violently in the chair, his hands gripping the carved wooden arms until his knuckles turned white.

It was nothing he had ever felt before.

Her tongue moved, a slick, agile muscle that swirled around his sensitive crown, tasting him, exploring the slit that was already leaking for her. The sensation was a direct line to his brain, short-circuiting all thought, replacing it with thick, primal urges.

He was dissolving into pure need, a maniac focused on a single, devastating point of pleasure.

’God, I would devour this queen.’

Her head began to move, a slow, torturous rhythm of up and down, her wet tongue entangling with his length. But the civilized part of Dax, the part that knew this was a mission, was gone.

A raw, guttural sound ripped from his throat. His hand shot out, tangling in the intricate braids of her silver-streaked hair.

He pushed, not asking, just taking, guiding her head down further, burying his cock deeper into that incredible wet heat.

Her eyes, previously hooded with pleasure, shot wide open at the sudden intrusion. A strangled gagging sound vibrated through him, a sensation so filthy and intense it made him see stars.

Her face was taut, her beautiful eyes brimming with reflexive tears. A vein stood out on her neck as he held her there, his entire substantial length threatening to choke her, the sight of her struggle fueling his own savage ecstasy.

Then, just as suddenly, he let go.

She pulled back, coughing hard, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening, spit-slicked cock. She panted, her chest heaving, struggling to draw air into her assaulted throat.

And then, to his utter astonishment, she leaned forward again and gently, deliberately, licked her own spit from his shaft, her eyes never leaving his.

Here was the Queen, a woman of perhaps forty-two, her wealth and commanding power the stuff of empire, reduced to a kneeling, breathless supplicant between his legs, suckling his dick as if it were her only source of sustenance.

Her moans were loud, unfiltered, a symphony of surrender.

And Dax’s head was a roaring furnace of pleasure. He needed to be inside her. Now. He could see the evidence of her own desperate need, the slick, glistening wetness that dripped from her, proof that her composure was as shattered as his.

She stood up on shaky legs, turned, and presented herself to him. Without a word, she took his throbbing cock in her hand, guiding it to her soaked, waiting entrance. Then, with a control that made him whimper, she lowered herself onto him.

The feeling was bliss. An unbearable, tight, wet heat that sheathed him perfectly, inch by glorious inch, until the full, lush curves of her ass met his hips, pressing warmly against his taut balls.

With that, she began to ride him.

It was her turn to drive him insane. Her hips rolled and bucked, a practiced, sinuous motion that milked his length with every movement.

She moaned, a continuous, breathy sound as her body trembled, teetering on the edge of a precipice she was hurling them both toward.

"Yes... yes... fuck... oh God!" she cried out, her voice rising in pitch.

Her thrusts became more frantic, a wild, stuttering rhythm. Just then, Dax met her frenzy, his own hips pistoning upward, his upthrust meeting her down thrust with a loud, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin. Their motion grew faster, a chaotic, desperate race.

"Ahhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" The queen’s scream was one of pure, unadulterated release. He felt her convulse around him, her inner walls clamping down on his cock in a series of violent, pulsing spasms.

She came, hard and wet, her body slumping forward before she caught herself, her movements slowing to a satisfied, exhausted grind.

But Dax wasn’t there. He hadn’t even come. The edge was still there, a maddening, painful need coiling in the base of his spine. He understood her satiation, but it did nothing for his own torment.

The queen shakily stood up from him, her legs visibly trembling with every step she took.

"Stevon," she cried out once more, her voice cracked and raw from her screams.

"You are a beast. Your gift awaits you." Her pussy was still glistening, dripping their combined essence onto the floor.

She managed to pull her sheer gown around her body before leaving the dining hall, heading for the sanctuary of her rooms.

Dax calmly picked up his pants. He was still painfully, achingly hard. He still wanted more. The phantom feel of her, the smell of her, the sight of her ass as she walked away, it was fuel on the fire. He couldn’t hold himself together.

No. No. No. That ass... He was going to devour it. That would finally make him spill.

He made to stand and just then...