carried across 66

 

66 Feel Something 

Irina 

“You saw him in the yard. He threatened to cut my tongue out.” 

“He is under a command,” I whispered. I leaned forward slightly. “I overheard them talking six years ago. Viktor visited Blackwater. He was already drunk, he bragged to Aldric in the study. Viktor said he placed a command deep in Fenris’s mind when Fenris was a boy. A mental switch. Something only Viktor could activate, and it would force Fenris to obey any order absolutely.” 

Torin’s eyes went wide. He stopped breathing for a second. “A switch?” 

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Aldric is looking for it. He sent Sera here to anchor the treaty while his spies search Ironmaw for the command word or the trigger. Aldric wants to hold the leash. He will never let Sera leave. He needs her exactly where she is.” 

Torin looked away from me. He stared at the dying embers in the small fireplace. The political reality crashed down on him. We were trapped in a fortress of ice surrounded by feral killers, serving a king who would gladly sacrifice his own blood for a larger map. 

The heavy, suffocating despair in the room shifted. It morphed into a sharp, vibrating need. I needed to feel something else. I needed to escape the freezing terror of my own mind for just five minutes. 

Torin looked back down at me. He saw the shift in my eyes. He looked at my chest, watching the rapid rise and fall of my breathing under the thin silk robe. 

He stepped closer, forcing my knees apart so he could stand directly in front of me. He reached down and hooked his fingers under the lapels of my robe. He pulled the silk apart. The fabric slid off my shoulders and pooled around my waist. My breasts were completely bare in the cold room. My nipples instantly pebbled into hard, tight peaks. 

Torin didn’t speak. He grabbed my hips and pulled me all the way to the edge of the wooden stool. 

He dropped to his knees on the freezing stone floor. He shoved my thighs wide open. He pulled the thin fabric of my undergarment to the side, exposing my wet opening. 

He buried his face directly between my legs. His mouth latched onto my clitoris. 

I gasped sharply. I threw my head back, gripping the thick wooden edge of the vanity table behind me. My knuckles turned stark white. 

His tongue was rough and incredibly hot against my cold skin. He sucked hard, generating immediate friction. He shoved two thick fingers deep inside my cunt. I was already wet from the stress and the raw need for physical release. He pumped his fingers rapidly in and out of me, establishing a brutal, unrelenting rhythm. 

I bit my lower lip hard to keep from screaming. The physical sensation sliced cleanly through the panic in my brain. It was sharp, dirty, and desperate. I pushed my hips forward, grinding my clitoris aggressively against his mouth. 

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I climaxed in less than two minutes. My thigh muscles locked up, clamping down hard against the sides of his head. I let out a muffled, ragged moan, my toes curling against the cold stone floor. 

Torin pulled his face away. His mouth was slick with my wetness. 

He stood up. He unlaced the front of his trousers and pulled his thick veined cock out. It was fully hard, the head dark red and leaking a clear drop of pre-cum. He gripped the thick base of his shaft with his right hand. 

“Stand up,” Torin ordered. His voice was thick and raspy. 

I stood. I turned around and bent forward over the vanity table. I braced my forearms flat against the wood. The cold glass of the mirror pressed directly against my forehead. I saw his reflection behind me. 

Torin stepped right up to my ass. He grabbed my hips with both of his large hands. He lined the blunt head of his cock up with my dripping cunt. He didn’t use spit. He didn’t stretch me first. 

He drove his hips forward and shoved his entire length deep inside me in one thrust. 

*** 

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