Kirel grabbed a fistful of bed sheets and wrung them between his fingers, recalling the way Nelina had screamed out his name as a powerful orgasm overtook her. Her desperate moans had been his undoing. Before he could control the urge, his balls had quivered and he’d spilled himself in ragged, violent spurts. What had he been thinking? He wasn’t able to contain himself around her. His duty was the farthest thing from his mind when she writhed and mewled low in her throat, wringing every last drop of self-control from him. She’d driven him wild with desire as she’d bucked beneath his touch. Her body had been a pliant instrument and he an expert musician. He’d plucked and strummed, tweaked and pinched until he had her exactly where he wanted her—squirming for him, eager for his touch. Gods, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so hard. His cock had ached with an intense, simmering need to fuck her. He’d wanted nothing more than to slam his rod between those flushed pussy lips, to feel her nails dig into his back as she cried out with release.
