Her fingers stilled against his nipples. “Because your defiance gives others hope. And hope is something many here have lived too long without.”
Her words were so quiet, such a subtle whisper, he almost missed them. But they were real. Echoing in his head, radiating down through his chest, awakening something inside him he thought had died. And though he didn’t want to believe it, an ominous feeling in his gut told him that hope she talked about wasn’t for others, but for her.
A thousand questions raced through his mind—who she really was, how she’d ended up in this hellhole, what the fuck she was doing with Zagreus—but every single one came to a screeching halt when those tantalizing fingers started moving south, over his abs, heading for the edge of his thin cotton pants.
He sucked in a breath and held it. Heat gathered beneath her fingers, seeping into the skin of his lower belly, ratcheting his arousal up another sinful notch. Finally, she reached the drawstring at his waistband, found one end, and pulled.
Every ounce of blood in his body seemed to pool in his groin. His cock throbbed, aching to be touched. His stomach caved in. His breaths grew fast and shallow as she tugged the tie free, then slowly eased her hand inside, sliding her tantalizing fingers beneath the cotton, then lower until the very tips grazed the base of his cock.
His teeth sank into his bottom lip, and he gripped the chains tightly over his head so he wouldn’t moan. But it didn’t stop her. The tiny gasp behind him caused his cock to twitch against her fingers.
The hand at his chest dropped to his hips, pushing his pants lower, freeing his erection. But instead of grasping him as he wanted, she let go and pulled her hands back. Something clicked in the silence.
He tensed, unsure what she had planned next. Then her hands returned. She wrapped her long, slim fingers around his cock and squeezed. Only this time they were slick. And he realized—holy fuck—she’d coated her palm with lube.
His eyes fell closed, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t stop his hips from flexing forward, pushing his shaft into her tight, wet grip.
“So hard,” she whispered, trailing the fingers of her other hand back up to twist and tease his nipple once more. “You ache for release, don’t you, warrior?”
Gods, yes, he did. Right now it was all he could think about. She loosened her grip, slid her hand up to the tip, then back down to the base, and the sensation was so erotic, so hot, Nick’s balls contracted, and he rocked into her hand again, wanting her to move faster, needing her to drive him to the edge, even though somewhere in the back of his head he knew she wouldn’t take him over.
She stroked him again, base to tip, then hesitated and spread the tiny bit of fluid that had leaked free from the tip up and under the flared head to the taut gathering of nerve endings below. His whole body trembled.
“So big,” she whispered in that seductive, sexy, dominatrix voice right in his ear, closing her hand around him once more. “Zagreus hates you for that too.” She trailed her hand low again, squeezed the base, then slid her fingers higher, pumping him gently, making his cock swell even more. The heat of her pelvis pressed against his ass, driving him completely mad. “The females here all fantasize about this. About seeing you come. There’s power in sex. Power in giving it, power in releasing it. Zagreus is afraid for you to have that power.”
Nick didn’t give a fuck about Zagreus. All he could focus on was the slick glide of her hand, moving faster, using long, tight strokes that were making him absolutely wild. He groaned, couldn’t stop from pushing into her grip, felt his release barreling so utterly close.
Just a little more…
He thrust forward again and again, couldn’t let her stop. Burned hotter than he had in…forever.
More, more, more…
“Yes, that’s it.” The hand at his nipple pinched hard, then released. And then he felt her silky fingers close around his balls and squeeze. “Come, warrior. Come right now. For me.”
The orgasm shot down his spine, detonated in his balls, and exploded through his cock, robbing him of sight, of sound, of breath. Hot jets coated her hand, but she didn’t stop stroking his length, didn’t stop pumping even as his body twitched and shook with the power of his release. It had been so long—months and months of frustration—and she was drawing it all out, milking him of every drop, not letting go until there was nothing left.
His body trembled. Every muscle felt weak and spent. If it weren’t for the chains, he would have collapsed, he was sure of it. Finally, she slowed her strokes, but against his ear, her warm, sinful breath radiated, sending tiny tremors up and down his spine, reminding him he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t in control, that she held the power.