The Extra's Rise - Chapter 609

Chapter 609: Elven Desire (2) [R18]

The air in Arthur’s bedroom was thick with anticipation, the dim glow of a single light still on casting flickering shadows across the walls, painting the room in hues of amber and gold. My ice-blue eyes met his deep blue ones, a connection that felt like the universe aligning, both eternal and fleeting, grounding me in the moment as my heart raced in my chest. Arthur’s presence was magnetic, his broad shoulders filling the space, his black hair slightly tousled, falling across his forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to brush it back.

He paused, his breath warm against my sensitive half-elven ear, sending a shiver cascading through me, like a pebble dropped into a still lake, ripples spreading outward until my entire body hummed with anticipation. “One moment,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety rumble that seemed to vibrate through my bones, quickening my pulse. His lips brushed the delicate curve of my ear, the sensation so acute it drew a soft gasp from me, my pointed ears twitching at the intimate contact. My half-elven heritage amplified every touch, every sound, turning the simplest gesture into a symphony of sensation.

Arthur leaned back, his movements deliberate and unhurried, exuding a quiet confidence that made my breath catch. He reached for the bedside table, the muscles in his arm flexing subtly beneath his skin, and retrieved a small foil packet. The faint crinkle of the wrapper was almost deafening to my heightened senses as he tore it open with practiced ease. My eyes followed his strong fingers, mesmerized by the way they moved, deftly rolling the condom over his impressive length.

Even after countless nights together, the sight of him—thick, commanding, and undeniably masculine—sent a flush of heat blooming across my cheeks, my ice-blue eyes widening with a mix of awe and anticipation. His size was a constant marvel, a delicious challenge that my body had grown accustomed to, yet never failed to ignite a spark of wonder.

My silver hair spilled across the pillow like liquid moonlight, catching the candlelight in a soft, ethereal glow. I reached for him, my fingers trembling slightly as they traced the hard planes of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my touch. “You’re still… so much,” I whispered, a shy smile curving my lips, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my own heart. His answering grin was a perfect blend of cocky and tender, a glimpse of the man who knew exactly how to unravel me, body and soul. His deep blue eyes softened, crinkling at the corners, and I felt a rush of warmth at the intimacy of that look.

He leaned down, capturing my lips in a kiss that was deep and consuming, his tongue teasing mine with a slow, deliberate rhythm that mirrored the pulse of desire between us. The faint rustle of the silk sheets beneath us, the soft creak of the wooden bedframe, filled my sensitive ears, each sound heightened and electric, weaving into the tapestry of the moment. As he positioned himself above me, his weight a comforting anchor, I felt the world narrow to just us—his heat, his scent, his unwavering gaze.

When he pressed into me, it was a slow, exquisite stretch, my body yielding to him with a familiar ease that still felt like a revelation. I gasped, my nails digging into the broad expanse of his shoulders, the fullness of him drawing a soft moan from my lips. He moved with confidence, each thrust measured and deep, his hips finding a rhythm that made my toes curl against the cool silk of the sheets.

My toned stomach tensed as I arched beneath him, my full breasts pressing against the hard plane of his chest, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my nerves. His hands roamed, one cupping my breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, drawing a sharp inhale from me, while the other gripped my hip, guiding me to meet his movements with a perfect synchronicity.

Every sound was magnified to my senses—the low groans rumbling in his throat, the faint hitch in his breath, the soft, rhythmic slap of skin against skin. My pointed ears twitched at each noise, drinking in the symphony of our passion. His touch was both commanding and reverent, his fingers mapping the contours of my body as if committing every curve to memory. I felt cherished, desired, my body singing under his skilled hands, each caress igniting a fire that burned brighter with every passing second.

The first wave of pleasure hit me like a tide, building low in my belly, a slow, molten heat that surged through me until it crashed with a cry I couldn’t contain. My ice-blue eyes fluttered shut, my head tipping back against the pillow, my silver hair tangling in a shimmering cascade. Arthur slowed, his lips finding my ear again, whispering my name—”Seraphina”—like a sacred vow, his voice sending aftershocks through my trembling body. The tenderness in his tone, the way he held himself—still hard, still ready—spoke of a stamina that was both a promise and a challenge.

We shifted, his strong hands guiding me to straddle him, my thighs bracketing his hips as I sank down onto him, my breath hitching at the renewed stretch. The shift in position gave me a sense of control, and I savored the way he filled me, my body adjusting to his size with a delicious ache.

His deep blue eyes drank in the sight of me—my breasts swaying gently with each movement, my toned stomach flexing as I rode him slowly, deliberately. My sensitive ears caught the low growl in his throat, a sound that sent a thrill through me, and his hands gripped my hips, steadying me as I found my rhythm. His fingers brushed my silver hair back, tucking it behind my pointed ears with a reverence that made my heart ache, a gesture so intimate it felt like a declaration of love.

Hours slipped by, time losing meaning as our bodies found new rhythms, new positions. He took me from behind, my hands gripping the carved wooden headboard as he thrust with a steady, relentless pace, his lips grazing my sensitive ears until I was trembling, another climax tearing through me with a force that left me breathless.

Later, we lay on our sides, one of my legs draped over his hip as he moved within me, his hand cradling my face, our kisses soft and lingering even as our bodies burned with need. Each round was a dance, his stamina seemingly endless, his desire matched only by his care for me. My senses drank in every detail—the heat of his skin, the faint salt of his sweat, the love shining in his deep blue eyes.

By the time we collapsed, breathless and sated, the room was heavy with the scent of us—musk and the faint sweetness of honey. The sheets were a tangled mess beneath my silver hair, my limbs heavy with a delicious exhaustion. Arthur’s arm curled around me, warm and grounding, his black hair damp against his brow as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Shower?” he murmured, his voice husky with exertion and affection.

I nodded, a lazy smile spreading across my face, my ice-blue eyes half-lidded with contentment. He led me to his bathroom, the cool marble tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand in mine. The shower was spacious, its glass walls fogging as hot water cascaded from the wide rainfall showerhead, enveloping us in steam. I leaned into him, my body still humming from our passion, as he lathered soap over my skin. His hands were gentle, tracing the curves of my breasts, the dip of my waist, washing away the evidence of our intimacy with a tenderness that made my chest ache. My sensitive ears twitched at the sound of the water, the soft hum of his voice as he teased me about my “elven glow,” his words laced with affection.

I laughed, the sound bright and carefree, and splashed him playfully, the water catching the light in a prism of droplets. He pulled me close, kissing me under the spray, his lips soft and unhurried, a promise of forever in their warmth. We stood there, wrapped in each other, the steam curling around us like a cocoon, shielding us from the world outside. My heart was full, my body sated, and as I looked into his deep blue eyes, I knew with unshakable certainty that this was where I belonged—with Arthur, always.

This was the man I would give up the world for.