Fourteen Avirin
FOURTEEN
Avirin
Cascade doesn’t bother looking at her cards anymore.
She keeps them aligned in a singular stack, tracing the decorative shapes engraved on the back, following the bend of an oval until she reaches another overlapping the top.
That’s where she focuses her attention, circling the pads of two fingers at the very center.
Lord Riften follows the same path between Avirin’s legs, outlining the curve of her lips up to her needy, swollen clit. When Cascade changes the pressure on her deck of cards, Lord Riften does the same, his touch ebbing and flowing like an extension of Cascade’s will.
Avirin’s nails dig into the wood. Her mind is a tangled mass of want, and she tries to bury her sordid sounds against her shoulder, eyes rolling back in her head.
Suddenly, Cascade sits up straighter, glancing between Avirin and Lord Riften in surprise.
Hunger pulses behind Avirin’s eyes and throbs through her pupils. She must have lost control. She averts her gaze to quell the black seeping outward, but Lord Riften runs a steadying hand up the back of her neck. “You don’t have to worry. No one here will judge you.”
Cascade nods with reassurance. “Lord Riften just hadn’t mentioned this…interesting tidbit about you.” She gives him a weighted look. “He protects your secrets well. But I would like to know this side of you, Avirin.”
Avirin can hardly believe that, but she lifts her head.
Cascade’s smile returns. “There you are.” She reaches for her glass and takes a slow sip, her eyes on Avirin’s when she swallows.
Cascade sets the cup back on the table and traces the rim.
Lord Riften follows the hypnotic motion between Avirin’s legs, gliding along the edge of her pussy until Cascade dips her fingers past the rim of the glass.
Avirin’s hips buck.
Cascade smirks. “Prepare my little bride for her husband.” Then she dips her middle finger deep into the glass.
Lord Riften eases one long finger inside Avirin, and they both groan at how easy it is. She is wet and wanton already, gripping him, making him curse into the side of her neck.
Avirin’s body feels dewy and ripe. Moments ago, all of this felt forbidden and impossible, yet Lord Riften reached into the depths of her mind and found her fantasy. He made it true. Every little thing that Avirin craves, Lord Riften finds a way to mold into reality…
Except one.
She can’t allow that thought to linger. She doesn’t want to feel the impending sadness; she wants to feel this, right now, her hips rocking to take Lord Riften deeper.
Their eyes cling to where she meets them, rolling their wrist until their palm brushes against her and she finally, finally has all of them.
Cascade unfurls a second finger. They stretch toward the bottom of her glass and drag against the side, splashing through the dark liquid again and again.
“More?” Lord Riften asks against Avirin’s skin.
Her head bobs, and she gasps when she stretches around the second finger he uses to open her up.
Cascade curls the pads of her fingers against the glass in a repetitive motion. It looks like she’s trying to beckon someone closer, and Avirin watches in bemusement — until Lord Riften performs the same movement inside her.
“Do you feel that?” he whispers, nudging that place deep inside her. She can feel it in the back of her throat, melting through her bones.
When he pauses, Avirin cries out and latches onto them. “Please,” she pants, “keep —”
“Oh, she’s pretty when she begs,” Cascade chuckles. She withdraws from her glass entirely to rest her chin atop her hands. “Stop touching her. I want to see what other desperate sounds she makes.”
The thought is hot and threatening, but Lord Riften doesn’t stop.
“Surely a generous husband wouldn’t torture his wife on the first night.
” He keeps that sweet pressure inside Avirin, making her bite her lip to keep from mewling.
Lord Riften rests his forehead against her sweat-slick temple.
“If you think she’s pretty when she begs, you should see her when she comes. ”
Cascade’s head tilts dreamily. “You’re right, Riften.” She eases back in her chair. “A husband should take his new bride to bed.”
Cascade pushes to stand, and Lord Riften pulls his hands away.
Avirin’s head spins. She grips the table for support while Lord Riften fixes her clothing back into place.
When Cascade offers her arm, Avirin’s legs wobble like a newborn foal, but Cascade tucks Avirin’s hand against her body and leads them out of the drawing room.
Avirin tries to shield her black eyes, but the other partygoers pay them no mind, not even when Cascade plucks a candelabra from the mantle.
The three of them ascend the staircase, leaving the laughter and chatter behind as they move toward the landing.
Cascade guides Avirin down the corridor of closed doors, untucking a key from between her breasts and unlocking the room at the end of the hall.
Lord Riften’s lip quirks. “You’ve never brought me to your bedchamber during a party.”
Cascade hums. “Tonight is a special occasion.” Then she moves inside and sets to work lighting the candles.
Lord Riften pulls the door shut behind them.
Avirin’s stomach clenches. Everything about this is intimate.
The candlelight caresses Cascade’s body, embracing the slope of her shoulders when she turns back to face Avirin.
Light flickers through the branches of her hair like sun dappling through the leaves.
“I don’t want to mislead you,” Cascade whispers. Her voice is softer than Avirin has heard it, her movements slow when she steps toward her. She lifts her fingers to Avirin’s necklace, rotating the clasp back to its proper place behind Avirin’s neck.
It’s a simple movement, but Avirin’s breath stills.
Other women have touched her like this — a helping hand here, a gentle squeeze there.
All friendly gestures. This is the way women interact, but Avirin has always felt a distant flutter at those touches.
She wonders if Cascade has felt the same rumbling curiosity.
If she can show Avirin a new understanding.
Cascade runs her fingers up the column of Avirin’s throat, trailing the line of her jaw until she finds her chin. The bark of Cascade’s skin is like pliant wood, solid but smooth. Her thumb drags against Avirin’s bottom lip until it parts for her.
“What we do here tonight will be uncommon.” The dark shade of Cascade’s eyes holds more than Avirin expected, desire tinged with a softness she cannot name. Perhaps pity. Perhaps kindness. Perhaps something sweeter. “This will not be something you find with just any husband.”
Avirin senses Lord Riften behind her. Neither of them speak.
“I hope you will hold onto what we do here.” Cascade brushes a curl behind Avirin’s ear. “I hope you will remind yourself of the way you feel. I hope you will look for it in your marriage bed.”
Her gaze flits behind Avirin, and when it returns, her eyes surge with an almost-sadness before she eases forward.
Avirin gasps against the swell of Cascade’s lips.
Her mind thrums with everything she has been taught.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. The words are a hammer pummeling her back into place, trying to force her back inside the acceptable mold…
but her curious desire overflows, dripping outside the confines she knows.
Want unfurls inside Avirin like a flower, a bud long-buried now desperately seeking the sun. It blossoms into forbidden fruit that splits open on the vine, and Avirin wants to bury her mouth in its flesh and drink its juices until they run down her neck.
Cascade sees that light in Avirin’s eyes. When she smiles, she digs her teeth into Avirin’s lip and sucks like she can taste that ripe, ready fruit on her tongue.