Caged By the Lich

21. Astrid

21

ASTRID

I cling to Olvaar, my body pressing against his as our lips meet in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands grip my waist, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrap around him, locking at the ankles, drawing us even closer.

He doesn't break the kiss as he carries me, his stride purposeful and sure. I don't even watch where he's going, just wanting to get him alone. All that matters is him, his touch, his scent, his taste.

We crash through a door, and I'm vaguely aware of a dark, sprawling room. One I've never been in. His room.

Our lips part for a moment as he drops me onto a massive bed, the soft fabric cool against my heated skin. But any respite is short-lived. His mouth is on mine again, teeth nipping at my lower lip, hands roaming my body with an urgency that matches my own.

Clothes are a barrier, an annoyance. I tug at his tunic, needing to feel his skin against mine. He growls, a low, primal sound that sends shivers down my spine.

He grips the neckline of my gown, tearing it with a swift, brutal motion. The cool air hits my bare skin, but it's his gaze that makes me shiver. His eyes roam over me, hungry and possessive, the gray swirling with bolts of gold.

I'm overwhelmed by how much I want him. It's a raw, aching need that consumes every part of me. I've never felt this before, this desperation, this desire. And as he strips away the remnants of my gown, leaving me bare before him, I realize I need to tell him.

"Olvaar," I whisper, my voice barely audible. His eyes meet mine, the gold fading to a softer gray, waiting. "This is...this is my first time."

His grin is slow, predatory. Ferocious. And I have to clench my thighs together at the way it makes heat pool low in my stomach. "Good," he growls. "I want your first. I want your everything, little rebel."

He steps back, standing at the foot of the bed. His hands go to his trousers, slowly unlacing them. His eyes never leave mine, pinning me in place, daring me to look away. I can't. I'm captivated, my breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps.

"But first," he says, his voice a low rumble, "you need to be punished for being such a brat. For treating a lord with such disrespect."

His words ignite something within me. A dark, twisted part of me that revels in his dominance, that craves his punishment. I've pushed him, challenged him, defied him at every turn. And now, I want him to make me pay.

My breath catches in my throat as he finally pushes his pants down, his cock springing free. He's massive, thick and long, and I don't know how he's going to fit in me. But fuck, I want him to stretch me, making me take him.

"Crawl to me, Astrid," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument as he slowly strokes himself.

I obey, my body moving before my mind can even process the action. I crawl towards him, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath hitching in my throat. I'm naked, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. And I've never felt more alive.

His eyes track my every move, the gray swirling with gold as lust takes over. He mutters under his breath, "You look so fucking good being obedient for once."

I like the praise, but I'm not fooled. I know I'm still in trouble. And damn if that doesn't turn me on even more. I've always loved how powerful Olvaar is, and I can't wait for him to turn that on me.

Olvaar grins, a wicked smile that promises punishment and pleasure in equal measure. He fists my hair, tugging just enough to send a jolt of sensation coursing through me.

"You're such a brat, Astrid," he growls. "You want to be punished, don't you?"

I glare up at him, but there's no real heat behind it. He's right. I do want this. I want him. And with another sharp tug of my hair and the feral grin on his face, he knows it.

"Stick out your tongue," he commands, his voice rough with desire.

I obey, my tongue sliding out, waiting for him. He rubs his cock all over it, groaning as he coats my flesh with his pre-cum. The taste of him is intoxicating, salty and sweet, and I find myself craving more.

"Suck," he orders, his eyes locked onto mine. I wrap my lips around him, taking him into my mouth. He's big, stretching my lips wide, but I take him deeper, eager to please.

He groans, his fingers tightening in my hair as he starts to thrust into my mouth. "Fuck, Astrid," he growls. "You're such a little whore for me, aren't you?"

His words are dirty, insulting, but they turn me on like nothing else. I love the way he uses me, the way he takes what he wants without apology. I love the growl in his voice, the stretch of my lips, the feel of him hitting the back of my throat.

I gag around him, but he doesn't stop. He forces his way deeper, growling out his pleasure. "This smart mouth is better used like this," he says, his voice ragged. "Better than all those bratty words."

I can feel him everywhere, filling my senses, consuming me. And I want it. I want all of it. I want him to use me, to take his pleasure from me. I want to be his.

His grip on my hair tightens, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Fuck, Astrid," he groans. "You feel so fucking good. I'm going to come down your throat. Swallow every fucking drop like a good little whore."

And I do. I swallow him down, taking everything he gives me. And as he spills into me, I feel my own release building, my body on the edge of explosion. But he pulls out just before I can tip over, a wicked grin on his face.

"Not yet, little rebel," he says, his voice dark with promise. "Not until I say so."

Olvaar flips me onto my back, a growl ripping from his throat as he drags me to the edge of the bed. His fingers plunge into me, and I arch off the mattress, a moan tearing from my lips. I can feel how wet I am, how ready I am for him.

"Fuck, little rebel," he groans, his eyes swirling with gold. "You were awfully turned on by getting your throat fucked, weren't you?"

I can only whimper in response, my hips bucking against his hand as he stretches me, prepares me. I'm begging before I even realize it, my voice a breathy plea. "Please, Olvaar... please, punish me with your cock."

His eyes flash, and he yanks me closer, pushing my thighs apart with a brutal grip. He brings his erection to my entrance, the heat of him burning against my sensitive flesh. "I'll gladly give you every bit of pain and pleasure you're after, Astrid," he promises, his voice a dark rumble.

He pushes in slowly, but not too slowly, forcing me to take him, to stretch around him. It hurts, but fuck, it feels so good.

His eyes lock onto mine, the gray swirling with bolts of gold and streams of purple. "I love molding this pussy to me," he growls, pressing a hand on my stomach, making it even tighter.

I whimper, the sound caught in my throat as he slaps my breast, the sting making me clench around him. "This tight body is mine to use however I want," he tells me, grinding his hips against mine and I bite down on my lip to keep in another cry. "And you're going to take it."

He starts to move, slowly, brutally fucking me. Each thrust is a claim, a punishment, a promise. He tweaks my nipples, slaps my breasts, his eyes never leaving mine. Every bit of pain only heightens my pleasure, and he seems to know it, reddening my skin and heating me up. I'm a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, my body on fire, my mind consumed by him.

"Please," I beg, my voice a breathless plea. "Please, let me come."

His hand wraps around my throat, his grip tightening as he leans down, his breath hot on my face. "Make me come, little rebel," he growls. "Make me come, and then you can." His grip tightens, his thrusts become ruthless, and I can barely breathe, barely think.

I'm so close, my body taut as a bowstring, my release just out of reach. He's using me, fucking me, owning me, and I love it. I love every brutal, punishing second of it. And when he finally lets go, when he finally spills into me, I shatter completely.

My orgasm rips through me, my body convulsing around him as he grips my throat, his eyes locked onto mine. And just when black starts to dot my vision, his hand slackens, the air rushing back in rips another scream from me.

I'm floating, pure euphoria blanketing my senses as he pushes me higher. My orgasm ripples and spreads, wringing pleasure from my body as I suck in air and feel his hand between my legs. I think tears are spilling down my cheeks, but I can't tell.

I'm not sure how long it takes for me to finally come down, but when I do, Olvaar is kissing my skin, still buried deep in me. I reach up, pushing a hand through his hair as his lips soothe the sting across my chest.

"I have never-" Another kiss. "Felt anything as incredible-" A press of his lips. "As you coming on my cock."

I clench at the words, and he chuckles against me. "I don't think you have to worry about me regretting it," I rasp out, my throat sore. But in a good way.

He looks up at me, his eyes fully purple. "No?"

I shake my head, my eyelids drooping. "I'll let you do that any time." He slowly slides out of me, and I whimper. My eyes fall all the way closed, and I start to feel my muscles go limp. "So good."

I think Olvaar picks me up, but I'm too happy, too sated, too tired to notice. I cling to him, to his scent, as darkness sweeps in to claim me.

And I realize I've never felt like I belonged anywhere more.