NSFW Sneak Peek: Crescendo, Book II of Song of the Fallen

I've been promising a new sneak peek from Crescendo for a while, and since I've been teasing so long, I thought I'd make amends with an extremely NSFW little excerpt. Enjoy!

He was at full arms again, standing so tall he hurt. Ayden, gods have mercy, reached round behind him and found Freyrík with his hand, wrapped calloused fingers round the root of Freyrík’s cock and pulled. His eyes never left Freyrík’s, but a smile grew within them to match the one curling his lips, playful and deadly serious all apiece. He tugged hard on the silk round Freyrík’s wrists, stretching him near to discomfort, but even that strain seemed transformed somehow by the work of Ayden’s other hand, by the elf’s devilish grin, and he wanted more of it, struggled back and made Ayden work for it, force him, match him strain for strain.

Freyrík lost, of course. He could hold onto nothing in Ayden’s hands. Didn’t want to, anyway.

And gods, but those hands were talented. Ayden worked him with all his considerable skill and finesse, fingers gripping, squeezing, sliding, twisting, forcing Freyrík to the barest edge and holding him there—a deathblow pulled at the last instant, confident and steady.

And absolutely maddening.

Ayden wound the loose end of the silk round his hand, once, twice, stretching Freyrík so tight his belly pulled. And his cock twinged. Strained, eager. ‘Twas almost as if the silk were wrapped round his manhood and not his wrists.

Ayden’s smile faded from his lips but never left his eyes, which remained affixed to Freyrík’s own as if by tidal force. “Will you beg me,” he asked—said, really, as if he already knew the answer.

Freyrík licked dry lips and nodded. “If you wish it.”

Ayden leaned in, and his lips met Freyrík’s own with softness utterly striking in its contrast to all that had come before it. A sweet sweep of tongue against tongue, a gentle press of lips, less exploratory than savory, no more claiming than a parting caress.

“I do not,” he whispered against Freyrík’s lips, and then his hand was out behind him again, seeking and finding Freyrík’s manhood (straining quite helpfully toward Ayden’s grasping fingers), and with firm, deliberate strokes and murmured endearments against his skin, Ayden brought him to shuddering completion.