Chapter 31
Cairn
SHE’S SO DEMANDING FOR SUCH a small witch. But I’m more than happy to do as she says.
I pull my fingers out of her—they glisten in the light of the fire—then add a third and start to ease them inside her. There’s more resistance this time, her pussy squeezing tight. Lyra’s crimson eyes close, and a small wrinkle of pain forms in her brow.
“Is that too much?” I ask.
She shakes her head, but the furrow remains. “No. Don’t stop.” She lifts one leg and uses her foot to stroke my cock through my trousers, making me moan. “If I’m going to take this, I have to make it through a little pain.”
I don’t want to cause her pain, yet the idea of pushing inside her, sheathing my cock in her tight, wet pussy, makes me harden and throb.
Lyra must like the idea too, because her pussy gets a bit wetter, and it yields just a fraction to the pressure I’m putting on it.
Instead of trying to force my fingers inside, I lavish more attention on her swollen clit, rubbing it with my thumb, teasing it until she’s panting and trying to push her hips up against me. I rub a little more.
And then my three fingers slip all the way inside her.
She gasps. It’s a tight fit, but they fit nonetheless.
“Fuck,” she groans as I start to move them, pumping in and out slowly. Her cheeks are flushed red, her eyes pinched closed.
I admire her freckles, her pale skin, the curve of her lips and column of her throat. She’s exquisite, and I almost laugh when I think of our first day together, the anger that danced in her eyes and pulled those perfect lips into a firm pout.
So feisty, my little fire witch.
My witch? I blink at the thought.
Is that what she is? Is that what I want her to be? Mine?
My head may not want to accept the implication, but my heart and body do so willingly, and I find my fingers working her a bit faster.
“More,” she whispers.
I don’t think she can take more. Her pussy is already so tight around my fingers.
“I don’t think—”
“More, Cairn. I have to be ready for you.” A little shimmer of red and orange dances across her skin—her fire magic?—but she doesn’t seem to notice; her eyes don’t even open.
I still resist. This is already enough. I don’t want to hurt her.
“We should go slow,” I say, “so we don’t—”
Now her eyes open, and they’re alight with flames.
Lyra pushes up onto her elbows, knees and legs still spread before me.
She reaches down between us, where my fingers are still knuckle-deep inside her, and she uncurls my pinky.
It’s my smallest finger—it won’t add much by way of girth—but when she lines it up with her pussy and makes me push it inside, another furrow forms in her brow, and she flinches at the stretch.
I should stop.
“Don’t stop,” she says.
My eyes narrow. “Can you read minds too?”
“No.” She settles herself back onto the rug, breathing hard. “I just know you.”
Those words make my chest warm in a way I didn’t expect. It’s been years since I was intimate with anyone, and longer still since I felt seen, known. But this witch can pull words right out of my mouth, can anticipate what I will say or do before I can do it.
She knows me. She wants to know me.
That realization alone almost makes me cum, even without her so much as touching me.
But it scares me too. Because what if she changes her mind? What if—
Lyra’s pussy tightens around my fingers, squeezing me as her low back arches off the soft rug. Her moans stop, her breath hitching. Beneath my thumb, her clit is swollen and hot.
Then she cums, hard. Her pussy spasms and clenches, her clit throbs, and I can’t resist the urge to capture her mouth with mine. As our lips move together, she reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck, her fingers playing through my hair as mine still work inside her.
She presses her tongue into my mouth, making me moan.
Goddess, this witch . . .
When her breathing slows and her pussy softens, I ease my fingers out of her, not missing the way she winces as they slide free.
Breaking our kiss, I look down between her legs, where my fingers are slick with her wetness and my cock is bulging against the front of my trousers.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Mm.” She tickles the nape of my neck with her fingers, then traces the edge of my collarbone. “Better than okay.”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
The look she gives me is more smirk than smile. “Are you always such a worrywart?”
I sit back from her and hold her shimmering crimson gaze. “When it comes to you? Yes.”
The smirk falls away. She regards me with something deeper in her eyes, and for a moment, I fear she might cry.
Maybe I really did hurt her.
Then she surprises me yet again as she turns herself over on the rug and pushes up onto all fours. Her beautiful round ass is right there in front of me, slick wetness tracking down the insides of her thighs.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Take your pants off,” she demands.
I shake my head, the shadows cast by my horns moving across her. “No. You’re not ready. I’ll just—”
“Cairn Axton, by the goddess, just do what I say. It’ll be all right. I’m not asking you to fuck me.”
I narrow my eyes. “Then what are you—”
But her sharp gaze cuts my words short.
I push up onto my knees and yank my trousers down. An audible groan slips out of me when my cock leaps free, the tip already glistening with moisture.
Lyra looks back at me, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I want to feel you here,” she says, then makes my heart beat double time when she reaches up between her legs to touch herself. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
I’m still not quite sure what she wants, but I ease up behind her anyway, taking her hips in my hands and pushing my cock between her legs. My tip drags through her slick folds, and she uses her fingers to guide my cock into the tight space between her thighs, but not inside her.
Oh.
Now I understand.
She wants me to fuck her folds and thighs, not her pussy.
That I can do.
I tighten my fingers around her hips and thrust against her. Her pussy lips drag at my cock, still slick, and I can feel her swollen clit each time the head of my shaft pushes against it.
Her ass is soft, and I grab a handful of it, making her gasp. Between my legs, my balls swing, heavy and tight with pressure. It’s not going to take much for me to paint her in cum. I need to distract myself, to make this last longer than thirty blissful seconds.
The fire flickers beside us, hot and comforting. It tosses light across Lyra’s pale skin, turns her a shade of shimmering gold.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Her curls are messy and tangled, and when she glances back at me through them, I get a little jolt up my spine.
She’s beautiful and wild, like a fairy creature in a hidden wood, dancing through the trees right outside your line of vision.
Yet somehow, she’s here with me, letting me touch her, taste her.
Letting me know her in a way I’ve known so few.
She narrows her eyes a bit, challenging me.
I renew my hold on her hips and buck against her, thrusting hard and fast, using the slickness between her legs to get myself there.
My balls swing and slap her, making her moan, and she drips more wetness onto me.
The sensation and the sound make me tip my head back and let out a low, sustained groan.
Then I dig my fingers into her hips, pull my cock from between her legs, and bellow as ropes of cum explode from me, painting her sweat-slick back with each pulse of my shaft and balls.
I’ve been thinking about her so much lately, have been on edge and hungry since our last time together, and now I dump everything I have across her pale, trembling body, until she’s a canvas of my cum.
I realize, perhaps too late, what a mess I’ve made of her. But as she tosses her hair and looks back at me, lips pulled into a catlike smile, I get the feeling she doesn’t mind at all. In fact, I think she’s pleased. And now she has an excuse to get me into a hot bath with her again.
Not that I’m complaining. And the rain’s still falling, droning against the thatched roof, so we should still have time before anyone even considers where we are or what we’re doing.
I grab my tunic off the floor and use it to wipe Lyra clean—or as clean as I can get her with such a small amount of fabric.
When I’m done, she pushes onto her knees and turns to face me, her arms coming up to loop around my neck, a softness to her body now as she droops against me.
I expect her to kiss me, but instead, she nuzzles her face into the side of my neck, right up under my chin.
Against my chest, I can feel her heart beating. My arms wrap around her, pulling her snug against my body, and I hold her like that until my heartbeat starts to meld with hers, until I can no longer determine where mine starts and her ends.
And deep in my chest, under my ribs, there’s a dull ache. And I know what this ache means.
It means I’m hers now, means my string is wrapped around her firelit finger. And it means everything is going to get a lot harder from here forward. Because for me, there’s no going back. My peaceful life here is no longer.
Now it’s all Lyra.