Chapter 119: For Heads **
Oathran’s cards were the Queen of clubs and the Queen of spades. Combined with the Queen of hearts on the table, he held three queens. A strong, formidable hand. Triumph flashed in his eyes.
"Tell
I won," Oathran said. He was convinced. He’d seen her tells, he’d felt her tension. She had bluffed her way to victory over him before, three tis. He was sure this was another ruse.
But Cecilia slowly shook her head. A smile touched her lips. She laid her cards bare.
The five faced-up cards, Ace of diamonds, Five of hearts, Queen of hearts, Four of clubs, Six of spades.
Her two hole cards. Seven of clubs. Three of diamonds.
"I’m sorry, Your Majesty." Her voice was soft. "I got myself a straight."
It was there, clean and simple for him to trace. Three, four, five, six, seven. A line of uninterrupted numbers that beat his three-of-a-kind.
"This..."
He’d been so sure she was bluffing. He’d raised, he’d called, he’d envisioned strip and dances... and all the while, she’d been quietly, perfectly, building a winning hand from the garbage she’d been dealt.
If only she had seen those first two pathetic cards and folded imdiately—he’d be watching her dance, her body moving only for him right now!
"Don’t be scared, Your Majesty," she whispered, taunting as she rose from her chair. The remaining layers of her clothing shifted with her every movent. She approached him, and his erect cocks, already rigid with anticipation and a lingering, frustrated ache, seed to pulse in ti with her steps.
She reached out, her fingers caught one of them in her hand. The contrast of her soft touch on that hypersensitive flesh made his entire fra tense. "I’m just... going to clamp one of them..." she mused. "...so it won’t spill everywhere when it’s not inside... or when his brother is inside and he’s not..."
Oathran’s breath hitched. H... she had noticed his anatomy. Of course she had. He did have a tendency for one of his cocks to weep its anticipation all over her thighs, her stomach, the sheets, when not both were buried within her depths. Worse, it’d spill all over her when the other one climaxed.
She was... going to clamp it?
"But since you raised the bets..." she continued, her index stroking a slow, maddening circle over the slick tip, "...I will also pierce you a little bit."
Her finger then drifted up, circling the tiny, hypersensitive hole at the very tip of his length.
Ahhhh...
That place... A jolt of electric sensation shot through him, part shock, part dizzying pleasure. It was an area so intimate, so rarely touched, it felt almost forbidden.
Cecilia didn’t hesitate. With her free hand, she reached up and pulled the thin, elegant silver hairpin from her elaborate twist of blonde hair. It ca loose, and her hair cascaded down over her shoulders in a golden wave.
The fragrance of her, sun-ward silk, her unique scent, a hint of their shared exertion, wafted over him, so potent it made the fine hairs on his neck stand up and a fresh bead of sweat trace down his temple.
This hairpin was one he had presented to her from his own vast, legendary hoard, a piece of artistry he’d deed worthy of her. And now... it was destined for a far more profane treasury.
She held the slender silver pin up, its tip catching the light. Her eyes t his.
"Let’s begin the sounding training...?"
Oathran gasped, curiosity. "And... the bells...?" he managed to ask.
Cecilia chuckled. Her low, velvety voice vibrated through the hand still cupping him. "You have one, right?" Her tone implied it was the most obvious thing in the world, that of course the ancient dragon with a mountain-sized hoard would possess a collection of perfect, tiny bells.
"I don’t know..." The man was already dazed, his senses drowning in the feel of her skin and the dizzying prospect of her plans. Right now, his mind was hazy with want.
Even if he had never, in his centuries of existence, entertained the notion of an urethral insertion for himself... the idea, when offered by her, with her hands and her tools and her wicked smile, made sothing primal and eager stir deep within him. He was almost desperate to try it now.
But again, a promise was a promise. Snapping his fingers, he summoned a thread of his will. "Little bells, co to ..."
The command resonated through the very stone of his aerie. At first, it was faint. A distant, crystalline chiming, like wind stirring frozen droplets in a cavern. Then, gradually, the sound grew. Delicate tinklings, each with a unique pitch, began to echo down the grand halls, drawing nearer and nearer.
Tink-a-link... ting... plink...
Cecilia’s eyes widened. "You..." she breathed, her gaze darting toward the arched doorway as if expecting a procession of jeweled sprites. This man... just how many bells did he hoard?
Oathran grasped the wrist that held the silver hairpin, his grip firm but not forceful, urgent need burning through his fingertips. "Co, Saintess..." he murmured. "Make
wetter and put it in..." He pleaded.
Cecilia couldn’t believe how sexy this man beca when fully unleashed by arousal. The ancient dignity... fused with shaless hunger...
"Mmm..." she humd, leaning closer, her breath ghosting over his fevered skin. "We clamp one... and we plug one?" She outlined the plan even as her heart hamred against her ribs.
"Hmm... mmm..." Oathran’s head fell back, a low groan of agreent and supplication escaping him. "Clamp one... and plug one..." he almost begged, the words slurred with desire, agreeing with her every intention.
Seeing his total surrender, Cecilia pulled from her inventory the Five Stars Artifact she had acquired. The Silver Horn Ring, a band of liquid-looking tal said to adjust to any size, ant for adorning the horns of great beasts.
Oathran could, one day, wear it on his own majestic horn. But for today... A smile touched her lips as she held it beside the slender hairpin.
Both items, the hairpin that had rested in her head, a gift from his hoard, and the ring that could one day crown his own head, her gift, were now destined to adorn two different heads.
Such profane.
Reviews
All reviews (0)