with the gaping broken side. Sorrell groaned and I knew it had nothing to do with how he was still carrying me.
I smirked down at him. "I told you so," I said.
His eyes flashed. "You enjoy testing me, don't you, Changeling?" Somehow, in the time between when we'd first met and now, that name had become more than an insult. He didn't say it with anger or disgust, but with a heated promise of something pleasurable that would soon come my way.
Sorrell turned and strode across the room, stopping before a large bed. He unwrapped my legs from around his waist and deposited me there. "Do not move," he warned.
"Or what?" I asked. "Are you going to punish me?"
One finger came up and curled under my chin to tip my head back. "Yes," he said. His head tilted down and then the tip of his nose touched my jawline. "I'm going to spend the rest of the night punishing you for all that you have put me through."
I shivered. Whatever punishment he wanted to exact, I had a feeling I was going to like it. "Now stay," he ordered.
Sorrell stepped back, leaving me bereft of his presence—of his burning intensity. I was left to watch him stride back across the room to right the door. He shut it properly and then put his hand to the frame. Slowly, a blanket of ice began to form over the broken lock. It crept up and around the entirety of the door until the whole thing was sealed shut with a layer of frost. Only then did Sorrell pivot back and face me.
"Now you're mine," he said. "And no one will be disturbing us for the night."
I watched him as he moved back across the room, inching towards me. He paused halfway to me and my pulse began thumping faster as he reached for the hem of his shirt and ripped it over his head. The white, filmy fabric dropped to the floor, forgotten. My lips parted and my mouth watered. I'd always known that beneath the clothes, Sorrell was hiding the body of a warrior.
Strong lines were etched into either side of his abdomen and across. His shoulders were broad, but his eyes—they were the most formidable. He continued his path to me even as my eyes dipped to the pale blond happy trail that led from his belly button into the top of his black trousers.
When Sorrell once again stood before me, he stared into my eyes. His hand reached up and cupped my head, fingers sifting through my curls as he pushed lightly. "Get on your knees, Cressida."
Between my legs, my core throbbed. I was transfixed, completely at his mercy. It was heady, my desire for him. Unable to control my limbs—my knees bent and in small increments, I slid to the floor until I was on my knees before him, looking up at his massive frame. His hand remained in my hair, a comfort as he continued to stroke me—running his fingers through my blonde locks.
"You know what I want?" he asked.
"Yes," I whispered back.
He nodded to the front of his trousers and immediately, my hands lifted. I touched the front, feeling the ridge of his cock beneath the fabric. Within seconds, I had him freed from his pants. I gasped as I saw his cock for the first time. Long, thick, and pale, it made my mouth water.
"Cressida," he urged, grasping it by the base with his free hand. "Suck it."
My lips parted, my mouth opened, and I let him guide the head of his shaft between my lips. The pressure on the back of my head was warm, but the feeling of taking him into my mouth was hotter. I sucked him down, swallowing around his hardness—following the velvet covered vein with my tongue as I lapped at him.
A low moan escaped from above, sounding in my ears as I attended to him. I squeezed my thighs together—pressing them into one another as hard as I could. The sound of his pleasure in my head as I sucked his cock was pure ambrosia. A trickle of thrill shot up my spine. This was happening. I was really doing it.
Sorrell's cock pulsed in my mouth, against my tongue. Slowly, we began to work together in a rhythmic movement. I'd pull back, pushing against the hand holding my head, and then he'd push me forward once more—thrusting his dick to the back of my throat. My hands came up,