Chapter 45
Cairn
I KNEW SHE’D BE TIGHT, but I had no idea she’d be this tight.
As I start to push against her, Lyra catches her breath, and a delicate furrow forms in her brow.
“Tell me if—” I start to say, but then Lyra reaches up and places her fingers over my lips, silencing me.
“I know,” she whispers. Her crimson eyes glitter in the gray sunlight slipping through my bedroom window. “Just kiss me.”
She reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck, then pulls me down on top of her—though I have to hold my weight up on my forearms so I don’t crush her body beneath me.
Her lips find mine, hungry and demanding.
I tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, then turn her head to one side so I can press kisses along her jaw and down her throat.
I nibble her soft skin, then trace my tongue across it.
And around the head of my cock, she gets wetter, allowing me to slide inside her just a fraction.
Her breath hitches again, but she doesn’t tell me to stop.
And I know it’ll upset her if I keep asking every five seconds if she’s okay, so instead, I keep kissing her, moving my mouth to her collarbone now and tracing my lips along it.
Lyra wraps her legs around my waist, locking her ankles together. I shift my hips and pull out of her, then push in again, and her pussy accepts me with more willingness this time.
I’m a whole inch inside her.
This is going to take a while. But I’m not in any rush. I want to do this slowly, want to be delicate with her.
Still putting pressure on her, I pull back a bit to look into her eyes.
“What is it?” she whispers.
I use one hand to brush a curl from her freckled cheek. “I just . . .” The words get caught in my throat. I want to say them, but my fear is fighting to keep the words inside lest the truth come back to hurt me.
But I don’t want to keep being afraid. I want to be brave. And I want Lyra to know how much she means to me.
“I just . . . care about you.” My brows pull together a bit. “A lot.”
Lyra’s mouth quirks into a side smile. Does she know what I’m actually trying to say?
Her fingers find my cheek, and her skin is hot as she cups my face in her palm. “I care about you too. A lot a lot.”
I think she understands, if the glimmer in her eyes is any indication.
With a small chuckle, I turn my face to kiss her palm. At the same time, I slide a bit deeper into her, and Lyra lets out a small hiss.
Before I can say anything, she whispers, “I’m okay. Keep going.” And her ankles tighten around my back once more.
So I keep going. I kiss and lick and suck her neck, her pale small breasts, the perfect divot at the base of her throat.
She closes her eyes, allowing me to lavish her, to taste her, to try to soothe the discomfort she must be feeling.
And though the sun is already changing position outside my window, casting its sunbeams in a different angle through the glass, I still don’t rush.
I’m not sure how much time it takes, but my entire head is inside her now, and I’m just deep enough to start slowly, gently thrusting in and out.
At first, I feel her pussy tighten up even more around me, her body coiling with the pain of stretching to accommodate my girth.
So I move slower. And after a short while, her muscles relax again, the crinkle in her brow softening, and I’m able to slide a bit deeper.
With each slow thrust, my balls sway, thumping against her ass cheeks with a steady rhythm. One agonizing centimeter at a time, I sink a bit farther inside her. She has to tell me to pause at one point, to allow her tight muscles to relax around me once more, then gives me the okay to keep going.
And when I can’t go any deeper, when her pussy has taken as much of my cock as it can hold, I smile at her.
“You’re full,” I say.
She lets out a tiny breathy laugh, and her words come out in a whisper. “I can tell.”
She’s taken about half of my length, and she’s stretched so tight around my cock that I could probably get off on the squeeze alone. But I don’t allow myself to.
I focus on her, gliding slowly in and out, pausing when her brow crinkles in pain. And after some minutes, the wincing gives way to sighing, and her body softens beneath mine, her pussy relaxing enough to let me truly fuck her—albeit gently. This is our first time, after all.
I tangle my fingers in her hair again, and she gets wetter as I start to pump her with a steady rhythm. My balls hit her harder now, and if her panted breaths are any indication, she likes the feel and the sound of it just as much as I do.
She tugs my head down with a demanding hand, crushing my lips to hers like I’m the air she needs to breathe.
And though it terrifies me, I can finally admit that she’s the same to me.
I need her in my life, need to follow this winding unknown path for as long as my hooves will carry me, even if I don’t yet know what lies at the end.
For Lyra, I will be brave.
She moans against my mouth, her pussy sucking at my cock, trying to milk out the seed I’ve been saving up for her. But I grit my teeth and hold myself back.
I want to get her off first. Always.
So I shift my weight onto one elbow, and without breaking our kiss or ceasing my deliciously slow thrusting, I reach down between our sweat-slick bodies to find her swollen clit.
When I touch it, she gasps, her body jerking beneath mine.
Now she’s the one to break the kiss, arching her back and tipping her head on the pillow, eyes closed and brows pulled together.
Her body radiates heat as I stroke and rub her, filling her with my cock all the while. She drops her legs from where they were wrapped around my back, letting her knees fall open, like she’s experiencing such pleasure that she can’t even hold her muscles firm anymore.
Good. This is the kind of pleasure I want to heap on her. I want her so lost in ecstasy that she can scarcely remember her own name.
Like the afternoon I pleasured her on the rug before the fire, a magical shimmer of red and orange dances across her skin, and I smile.
Her pussy flutters around me, squeezing so tight I almost lose hold of myself, needing to grit my teeth harder and count backward from ten to keep myself from dumping my load inside her.
I move my fingers slower now, touching her clit with a featherlight touch, drawing her pleasure out one brush of my fingertips at a time.
Lyra catches her breath, her whole body going taut.
And I watch her face as she cums around me.
Her body trembles as her walls pulsate around my cock, sucking on it.
She gets so wet I can fuck her with ease now.
And before her orgasm can reach its peak, I shift atop her again, using one arm to lift her hips off the bed, angling her so I can slide as deep as she’ll take me.
Still, I watch her. With each thrust and each slap of my balls against her ass, I study her face, the way her lips are open with a moan, the thrumming of the veins along either side of her neck. Her fingers are tangled in my blankets now, messy red curls draped across my cotton pillowcase.
Then she opens her eyes.
And the moment she meets my gaze, I’m done for. I can’t hold back any longer.
I pull my cock out of her, and with a bellow I try and fail to contain, I dump everything I have onto her beautiful naked body.
My cum spews in ropes from my tip, painting her as she pants beneath me, eyes wide as I tug my shaft, draining every drop I’ve saved up for her over these many days we’ve been away from each other.
And when I’m done, she’s covered in sweat and cum, and so are my blankets. Which means I’ll have to do the laundry today. But first . . .
I lean over Lyra again, capturing her lips, kissing them softly, relishing the taste. Then I kiss her cheeks, her forehead, each eyelid. “You,” I whisper as I nuzzle my face into the side of her neck, “are pure magic, Lyra Wilder.”
She laughs, though the sound is tired, drained of energy. I can tell she’s completely spent.
So I ease myself off of her and the bed, then scoop her into my arms, cradling her body against mine. She wraps one arm around my neck, her eyes flicking up to meet my gaze.
“Where are we going?” she whispers.
“I’m going to give you a bath,” I say, already moving around the foot of the bed and crossing the room toward the washroom. “Then I’m going to feed you. And then we can do whatever you want.”
Her eyes flash with a hint of mischief. “So . . . we can do that again?”
I rumble out a laugh. “Anything but that. You’ll need time to heal.”
She pouts but doesn’t argue.
With that, I carry my little fire witch into the washroom, where I intend to wash and kiss and worship every inch of her skin.
And I know in my heart that I will do everything in my power not to ever let Lyra Wilder go again.