Chapter 37
Aric
I’M NOT QUITE SURE WHERE I intended to take Poppy—I just wanted to get away to someplace quiet with her—so when we pass the Whim and she slows to look over at it, I figure it’s as good a place as any to spend some more time with her.
“Wanna go in?” I ask, gesturing toward the entrance, where two stone pillars loom in the dark, wrapped in withering ivy.
Beside me, wearing that beautiful black dress, Poppy nods. She moves forward without hesitation, fingers twined through mine, her grip sure and warm as she tugs me along.
“You know where you’re going?” I ask, following her through the space between the pillars, my gaze tracing the dark hedges that rise up along either side of us. I’ve been in here before, but the Whim has a mind of its own and changes at will, so no two visits are ever the same.
“It’s more like the Whim knows where I need to go.” She glances up at me with a knowing smile. “I come here sometimes. To study. To think.” Her shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “It’s peaceful.”
The sounds of the festival start to fade as we walk deeper. The hedges grow taller, the darkness thicker now that we’ve ventured farther into the maze. Candles still float around us, their glow spilling across the path in pools of yellow and gold. The music becomes a faint thrum in the distance.
Poppy leads me through a series of turns—left, then right, then left again—getting me lost in a matter of moments. She holds my hand the whole time, and I decide I’d follow her through these corridors forever if she’d let me.
After a short while of walking along in the quiet, the only sound the crunching of dry autumn leaves beneath our boots and the faraway thump of drums, the maze opens into a small clearing.
At its center stands a gnarled oak tree, its tangled roots rising above the ground, its branches spread so wide that I wonder how I didn’t see it this whole time.
Magic, I think.
“Has this always been here?” I ask Poppy. “The tree, I mean. I’ve never seen it here before.”
She releases my hand, stepping into the light cast by a few flickering candles that float around the tree’s limbs. “I don’t know. I found it when I was a first-year. Now the Whim always brings me here when I ask.” She rocks onto her toes, then back—her cute nervous habit.
“Guess it likes you,” I say.
That makes both of us.
I follow her into the clearing, and the air feels different here—warm and heavy with whatever magic is enchanted into the maze.
Poppy turns toward me, and not for the first time tonight, the sight of her steals my breath.
The black dress hugs her body, leaving less to my imagination than her typical chunky sweaters do.
Her lavender hair escaped its pins during our dance and falls around her shoulders, and her glasses catch the golden glow as a candle drifts by.
Goddess, she’s beautiful.
“Aric?” she says softly.
I blink, refocusing on her. “Hmm?”
She glances away from my eyes, her gaze tracing my mouth. Then she nibbles her bottom lip, and her cheeks turn a dark pink.
Maybe she’s thinking about Faunwood. About our night together. About how we explored each other’s bodies while tucked into that bed, staring into each other’s eyes.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
Slowly, I close the distance between us. My hands find her waist, the fabric of her dress silky beneath my palms, and I back her gently against the old oak. She tips her head up to look at me, her fingers curling into my vest, pulling me just a bit closer. Like an invitation.
So I kiss her. She meets me eagerly, her lips parting, her tongue brushing mine in a soft touch that sends heat down my spine.
Her hands slide up my chest, over my shoulders, and into the hair at the nape of my neck.
When she tugs on the few loose strands that’ve come free from my topknot, my breath catches.
I deepen the kiss, drinking in the little sounds she makes, the gasps and breaths and those hitched whines that send my cock jumping in my trousers.
Fuck, I want her to touch me again.
The scent of her—like peppermint and old books—wraps around me, dizzying. My hands roam from her waist to the small of her back, tracing the line of her spine until she arches into me, her body pressed fully against mine.
“Poppy,” I murmur against her smooth brown skin, kissing along her jaw, tasting the pulse at her throat, being careful not to nick her with my tusks. She shivers, tilting her head to give me more access to her neck.
Her fingers find the buttons of my vest, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she frees them.
The fabric slides off my shoulders and falls to the ground with a whisper.
Her palms skim over my shirt, tracing the lines of my chest. Every touch feels deliberate and curious, with a touch of nervousness underneath.
I pull back just enough to see her face—cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes half lidded. “You drive me crazy, Poppy Waverly,” I whisper.
“Really?” she asks, her voice a delicate sound in the quiet night.
“Really.” I laugh softly, but it’s swallowed between our lips as I kiss her again—slower now, deeper.
My hands curve around her hips, thumbs brushing the edge of her corseted bodice.
She makes a sound that’s halfway between a sigh and a whimper, and I wish suddenly that I could tear the fabric from her body, trace my tongue over every inch of her skin, and settle myself between her thighs until she gasps my name.
But the part of me that’s still sane knows better, knows I want her too much to rush this.
Still, when she clutches the front of my shirt and murmurs my name, my resolve slips. I kiss her again, and this time she pulls me down with her, both of us tumbling onto the soft carpet of fallen leaves beneath the oak.
She lets out a startled laugh that dissolves into a sigh as I catch her and settle her gently onto the ground, then lean over her and cover her mouth with mine.
The earth is cool, the scent of moss and autumn thick in the air.
Dry leaves cling to Poppy’s hair, crackling softly every time she moves.
Above us, the floating candles flicker, their light catching on her skin and her glasses, turning her into something glowing and almost otherworldly.
Her hands slide up my back, fingertips tracing the lines of muscle, tugging me closer until I can feel the full warmth of her body pressed against mine. The kiss deepens, turns hungrier. Her lips part, inviting, and the small sound she makes when I answer the invitation nearly undoes me.
“Aric,” she says again. My name comes out a whisper—half gasp, half plea.
And I never want to make her beg.
So I shift my weight onto one forearm, holding myself above her, and reach down with my other hand. When I slip my fingers under her dress to caress her bare thigh, she catches her breath.
While my fingers climb higher, I trail kisses across her neck, tasting her skin. She tilts her head to the side, sighing when I find the spot just below her ear. And just barely, she widens her thighs for me, letting me slide my hand higher, until I can cup her heat in my palm.
Immediately, she moans. And I haven’t even really started touching her yet.
I start by massaging her with my wide palm, and when I pull back slightly to look at her face, I see that she’s closed her eyes, her mouth open with a silent breath.
“Did you like how I touched you before?” I whisper.
“Mm-hmm.” She doesn’t open her eyes. But her panties grow wet beneath my hand, making my cock leap again, displeased at being confined in my trousers.
Not yet, I tell myself. Wait a little longer.
Gently, I ease her panties to one side, and now I can feel how slick and hot she is. I push one finger into her tight pussy, and we both groan. But as I slowly thrust my finger into and out of her, she opens her eyes to look up at me.
“Can you . . .” In the light from the floating candles, I can see the way pink paints her cheeks and neck.
“Can I what?” I ease my finger from her pussy and swirl it around her clit, making it slick. “You can tell me what you want. I want to give you what you want.”
She bites her lip, then glances away from me, then back. She’s getting her courage up, I think. I touch her a bit more, letting her take whatever time she needs.
Finally, she whispers, “Can you . . . use your mouth?”
My trouser seam almost splits.
Oh, fuck.
She wants me to eat her out. And now I really want to.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She’s staring up at me, bottom lip trapped between her teeth again, and I realize I haven’t answered her yet. She’s starting to look even more embarrassed. And there’s no way I’m saying no.
“Come here,” I say, reaching down and wrapping my arm around her waist so I can flip us over—me on the ground and her on top of me. With her knees spread wide on either side of me, she braces her hands on my chest, blinking, leaves still caught in her hair.
“Wh-what—”
“You’re going to sit on me.”
At her confused look, I clarify.
“On my face.”
Her eyes widen. “I-I don’t know if I—”
“You can. Just be careful of my tusks. This way, you can control how much you want. You hold all the power here, okay?”
She closes her lips and nods once, looking unsure, but still, she shimmies up the length of my body until she can position her knees on either side of my head.
“Hold your panties aside. And when you’re ready, put that pussy right on my mouth.”
She bites her lip again—I’m starting to wonder if she’s doing it on purpose to rile me up—then reaches under her dress and moves her cotton panties aside.
Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, but she still shifts into position, then takes a deep breath and settles her wet pussy right onto my face.
This is so much better than bobbing for apples.
As soon as my tongue finds her clit, she gasps and lifts herself off my face.
“Too much?” I ask.
But Poppy shakes her head. “No, just . . . surprising. Let’s try again.”
I smile at her—until she smothers me with her sweet heat again.
And this time, when I lick her perfect round clit, she moans and presses herself harder against me.
I alternate between licking and sucking, then sink my tongue inside her, making her whole body jerk. For a moment, I fear I’ve gone too far.
At least, until she lets her head fall back and moans so hard that her breath sends one of the floating candles onto a new trajectory.
She rides my face harder, and I reach up to wrap my hands around her thighs so I can use leverage to sink my tongue even deeper inside her, tasting her.
Her pussy walls are slick and soft, and I nearly cum without her even touching me.
Hold it back. Hold it back.
Suddenly, her body goes rigid, her breath catching. Then she’s cumming, right on my mouth.
I lap at her, my cock throbbing with every moan that leaves her lips. Her pussy tastes amazing, and I’m not going to waste a single drop.
She grinds herself into me, though she’s still careful not to catch herself on my tusks. And when she’s done, her legs trembling on either side of my head while her chest heaves, she tips her head down to look at me and says, “Now show me how to do that for you.”