Page 17 of The Pactbound Angel (The Soul Mirror Duet #1)

Well, almost every detail. The artwork on the walls at the inn had shown landscapes. Here, they showed men and women in various positions together. Some acts were known to me, based upon our first lesson. Some not.

I asked in a hushed tone, "Where are we, exactly?"

“A safe place to facilitate pacts. It changes, with each pact, based upon what is needed. You need not worry about anything here. Not even time. When we return, after our lesson, it will be at the exact moment we left.”

As Elijah had said. How clever .

There was comfort in the familiarity of the space, and I said so.

He shot me a pleased grin before continuing.

"We're going to focus on a few things. One, what you desire.

You may remove my clothing. Last time, you mentioned you felt deprived by our focusing on your pleasure initially, so you will decide the agenda.

I want to see what you retained, though I have a new oral technique for you to try.

Previously, we focused on the use of your hands and mouth.

This time, I want you to concentrate on specifically using your tongue.

From small circles around the tip to up and down the entire shaft.

When I am completely in your mouth, flutter your tongue as often as you remember, even as you bob down and then back up.

I also encourage creativity with your mouth and hands, while maintaining an emphasis on use of your tongue. "

A pang in my chest hurt enough for me to wince. My eyes dropped to my feet. Encourage all you like, it won’t work.

He must have noticed the look on my face because he stepped forward, lifting my chin with his hand.

Concern warmed his eyes. “What’s wrong? Do you not wish to do this tonight?

” He must have taken my expression for one of reluctance, because he emphasized his next words, “Never be afraid to say no, Nathalia. I will always hear and respect it.”

I’d never told him what was stolen from me.

My fingertips touched his wrist, trying to be reassuring. “It’s not that. I want to. Very much, but… I can’t be creative. That’s what the mischief hags took. I can mimic when shown how, but that’s it.”

Concern quickly morphed into horror, then changed to understanding. “Oh.” He gave my chin a gentle squeeze, then dropped his hand. "My deepest apologies.”

He paused to consider his next words, then swallowed.

“Do not worry. Remember, I am here to help you achieve what you desire, not judge you for any lack or inability. I will say I was impressed with what you did during our last lesson. Expand upon that. Please excuse me for a moment.” He stepped past me, through a thin door I hadn’t noticed before.

I heard splashing water and surmised he was cleaning himself up.

With a cleansing breath, I went to admire the paintings.

I’d never seen such artwork before. They were simultaneously educational and erotic, with tangled limbs and ecstatic faces. There was one in particular that made me lean in to study, with the woman lying reversed on the man’s chest. Her knees rested on either side of his head while she…

A gentle tap on my shoulder jolted me from my stupor. Glancing over my shoulder, an amused-looking Ramiren stood with his arms crossed. “I called, but you didn’t answer.” His eyes flicked to the painting I was preoccupied with, and he smiled. “Shall we continue?”

I cleared my throat, feeling awkward. After lifting my hands and sliding the now unbuttoned jacket from his shoulders, I began to fold it. Ramiren took it from me, tossing it to the ground off to the side. He seemed entertained at my startled expression.

But it’ll wrinkle.

Frowning at the jacket, now lying in a misshapen heap, my confusion prompted me to ask. “Am I supposed to throw them?”

“If this is done right, you won’t care about your clothing. In fact, you might find you hate clothing.”

What a ridiculous notion.

Resuming, I was grateful for the fact most of my clothing consisted of just loose shirts, tunics, and trousers when traveling. At least I know how to take those clothes off. My hands went to the sides of his waist, then untucked and slid the shirt up over his head, careful of his glasses.

He threw the shirt, too.

My touch went where I wanted, and he never stopped me from exploring.

His hot skin wasn’t rough, exactly. For some reason, sturdy and rugged came to mind, like supple leather.

Another broodling trait, perhaps? He wasn’t a great deal taller than I was, maybe three inches from my nearly six foot frame, so I could reach everything.

My hands passed his shoulders, which relaxed under my palms. Running the fingers down his chest to his stomach, a grin creased my face when the muscle under my hand twitched.

Lifting to my toes to kiss and lick his neck, curious what he tasted like, I scented honey again. It overrode my tastebuds.

“Do you use some sort of beeswax pomade in your hair? You smell like honey.”

If he was surprised by my random question, he did not show it. “You have a sensitive nose. I do, yes.”

Well, that solves that mystery.

Unlacing his ties, my hands hooked into the band of his trousers. Sliding them down just enough, I followed their descent, taking one look up at him before wrapping my lips around the tip of his cock.

Pressing my tongue into him, and remembering his instructions, it circled his cock to find that ridge again. An ache began to develop between my thighs, spreading from there to my lower belly, when my hand lifted to grip him at the base. Was I giving him as much pleasure as he had given me?

Excitement at the prospect made a moan rumble in my throat.

He responded in kind, and I could feel the awareness of his eyes as he watched me. Recalling what he had done against my finger, I continued with shallow circles, then flicked my tongue. I made sure to relax my throat, as he’d suggested last time, and swallowed his cock halfway.

His soft voice floated down to me. “Undo your laces and touch yourself, Nathalia. Your pleasure is equally important here.”

I did as bidden, my fingers immediately finding the wetness I’d already suspected was there. The blistering sensation of standing far too close to a fire, but entirely without discomfort, ran roughshod over me, causing a low humming that was somewhere between a moan and hard breathing.

My fingers fumbled over sensitive flesh until they found an area that spiked the building pressure.

Neediness, for his pleasure as well as my own, made me lower my mouth over his cock, and my gag reflex triggered.

An unexpected touch to my throat, followed by a gentle massage, reminded me.

Forcing my throat to relax, the gagging disappeared.

"Excellent..." he whispered. The praise heated me and demanded I respond.

All. Give me all of it.

My tongue glided over that throbbing vein underneath.

I closed my eyes, relaxing completely, and briefly took him, all of him, into my throat to see if I could.

I was gifted with a groan and more praise.

My entrance clenched in a hard throb, and I dipped my fingers in to relieve the ache. It nearly finished me.

I lifted my eyes to watch his face as he closed his eyes. His breath quickened. "Yes. Just like that. Now wiggle your..."

Anticipating the instruction, I quickly plunged all the way down, and then back up again with a fluttering tongue. His entire body stiffened, and he didn’t complete the phrase.

That disembodied voice spoke again, almost breaking my rhythm. Cordani.

Where is that coming from?

My hand on his cock began to follow the bobbing movements of my mouth, my saliva coating the shaft.

His hand shot to my wrist and gripped it.

Though he didn’t stop my strokes, it still felt like I was restrained by him.

The vibration from my groan that followed must have pushed him over the edge, as immediately after a harsh noise escaped his own lips.

The taste of salted caramel once again flooded my mouth.

After I released him from my mouth and hand, he composed himself while my breathing slowed. Looking down at me, then at the wrist he still held, he peeled his fingers from it. I hadn’t realized he’d begin to squeeze until his grip suddenly lightened.

"You've become skilled in… a very short period of time and are ahead of where I thought we'd be. We may have other technique sessions, but practice what you did today. You can master it and will be exceptional in that area. We may focus more on themes in the future, like 'desire' for this one."

Standing with his help, I smiled as he talked. "I'm sure those lessons will be... exceptionally pleasant. Like this was."

Exceptionally pleasant? You’re hopeless.

Say something else! Anything else, like how he’s all I think about. How his hands on me makes me feel. How his tongue-

He chuckled. “I agree. As they say, practice makes perfect, but passion is priceless.”

Should I ask him about the voice?

The question was dismissed immediately.

Oh. Sure. “Ramiren, I am hearing voices. Are you harboring people here to watch me pleasure you and then mutter a word at me or am I hallucinating?”

That would definitely not sound insane.

Besides, part of the pact is secrecy. It’s not only a matter of if he wouldn't, but he couldn’t.

Instead, I just smiled at him, as though grateful for his comment and nothing was amiss. “Shall we finish supper?”

"No, it's your turn," he said simply.

My eyebrows went to my hairline. "Why?" My question came out weak and wispy. Of course, I wanted him to pleasure me in return. But I am here to learn .

Ramiren smiled down at me, as he ran a hand through my hair. "Remember what I said? In order to give pleasure, you must understand what it is. Your pleasure truly is just as important as mine."