27
Aspen
May he what?
My mouth was supposed to ask that, but it must have broken. I nodded and lost the ability to draw oxygen as Aire’s thumb approached, the pad tracing the beauty mark rooted near my upper lip, his hooded eyes tracking the motion.
A slow palpitation beat in my temples. But it wasn’t just that. Inspiration banked in his eyes, the patent desire to explore.
“Damn,” I whispered. “You’re good at this.”
A sheepish grin tipped one corner of his mouth, then flattened into an unmistakable line. “I’m good at many things.” His thumb trailed across my lower lip. “I would be a slave to your pleasure, if you permit me.”
“You’re not thinking straight,” I panted, scooting closer, giving his hand unfettered access. “I blame this enclave. It’s like the wildflower forest in Spring. The Lost Treehouses are putting a spell on us.”
Loss of control. Loss of composure.
I’d done enough damage to last this man a lifetime. Now this, another mistake about to happen.
My lips parted to remind him of our agreement, that we swore not to push this upheaval further, but then Aire grazed my cheek.
“It isn’t this enclave influencing me.” His palm cupped my jaw, then glided to my throat, embers firing in his wake.
“Now that I’ve known your pleasure, I fear you’ve converted me.
The struggle between us has only augmented this craving. ”
“Sexual tension,” I interpreted. “Fighting as foreplay.”
“Indeed. You’ve breached my inhibitions.”
“Evidently.” My skull tilted as he skimmed the column of my neck. “To illustrate, you’ve uttered more words in a week than I’ve heard in our whole lives.”
“Then cease doubting your impact,” Aire’s gravely baritone insisted. “Indulge for both of our sakes. Or at least show pity and put me out of this misery.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Discovery. I would see where this leads. One more time.”
“One more time,” I repeated, my outtakes rushing against his own.
“Just once more,” he murmured. “I would satisfy you beyond comprehension.”
He’d already done that. Still, I could give him this, give him something good and absolute, if only for another moment. Then we would finally move on, leave this behind, and recover.
In this imaginative place, I pretended to believe that was possible. And maybe so did he.
My head swung down, leveling with Aire’s. At the same time, his finger routed back to my lips. Opening my mouth, I sank my teeth into the supple flesh of his thumb, biting the tip.
Aire’s breath quickened, and his enigmatic pupils kindled with something beyond lust. The contact lured us into a trance, a forcefield encapsulating this night, blotting out the world with its laws and threats and dangers.
My markings buzzed. Fluid rushed to my slit, my clit thrummed, and my nipples toughened.
Releasing his finger, I hissed, “On your knees, soldier.”
His pupils exploded. That fanatical look flooded my pussy.
Tacking his eyes to mine, Aire vacated the swing and sank to the ground. Anchored on a bent knee, his broad frame nudged my calves apart, and his palms trekked up my thighs. The hem of my nightgown rode upward, the whisper of fabric filling my ears, dissolving all other noises.
Pinning my expression to his own, I branched my thighs outward. All or nothing, I bracketed them, spreading wide.
Cool air brushed my cleft, enhancing the wet sensation.
The muscles of my pussy contracted as Aire’s eyes dipped to the vent of my legs.
Blue saturated those pious irises, and a deferential noise peeled from his lungs.
In that gaze, I pictured myself slick and flushed, the oval lips bare, my distended clit poking into view.
Then I glimpsed the heavy lump in his pants. The head of Aire’s dick struck high, the cap bloating to the point where it must hurt, the vision going to my head like a gallon of alcohol.
Those devout pupils raised. As they did, the knight hooked onto my open thighs—and yanked.
I gasped, my ass skidding across the swing.
Not to the edge, but enough to expand the gap in my limbs.
I spread around his rippling chest, my clit bumping his pecs, the jolt sending a zing through me.
This position shoved the nightgown to my hips, boosting my cunt into view as Aire banded one arm around my buttocks, keeping me aloft.
With his free hand, he worked the lever at my side. I’d forgotten about that contraption until the swing ascended, elevating one foot higher, aligning my labia with his head.
A lusty sound toppled from my lips. He might not own a pleasure drawer full of toys, but this industrious man knew his way around a practical tool.
Gauging my thoughts, Aire’s mouth slanted. “Comfortable?”
“I’m more concerned about your knees burrowing into that hardwood floor.”
“I don’t give a fuck about my knees. And neither should you.”
But I did. I gave every fuck about his wellbeing.
Aire pushed forward, spanning me farther.
“The more critical circumstance is this: For what I’m about to do, you will have difficulty staying upright.
” While speaking, he reached sideways to unlace each of my boots, setting them on the planks and twisting back to me.
“I cannot have your limbs giving in and pitching you off the ledge.” His timbre dropped into a low growl. “Seize the ropes.”
Challenge accepted.
I fisted the cords. Then I did something extra naughty, using the additional lift to my advantage and rolling one bare sole across his upper thigh.
Aire’s limb tensed. His bravado faltered as my toes skidded to the bulge in his pants, his dick swelling beneath the pressure, rising as my foot rubbed the diameter of his crown.
His eyes widened. He sucked in an astonished breath.
Then as my wicked little foot circled his foreskin, Aire snatched my ankle, holding it aloft. “Not fair,” he gritted.
“Battles are never fair,” I murmured.
“Is this a battle?”
“Life always is.”
“It is also a celebration.” The knight tilted his head. “But you don’t believe that.”
I wish I did. But maybe with him, I could.
The answer sat plainly on my face, whereas conviction stretched his own features. Aire’s free palm caressed up and down my calf, kindling the circulation, relaxing my joints.
Linking both of my legs over his waist, he crooned, “Then I must prove you wrong.”
At last, the knight framed my hips. Then his ashy head descended to my waiting cunt.
And my thoughts crumbled to debris.
That silverly golden hair tickled my flesh. His face nestled into the crux of my limbs, steady bursts of air striking from his lips to my seam. That sensation alone unlatched my mouth, a strangled noise knotting in my throat, my pulse hammering in my breastbone.
For a long-suffering moment, Aire stared at my pussy, the lips spread and puddling before his eyes.
He hadn’t done anything, yet I’d grown wetter than a lake.
The knight prolonged the aggravation until a curse crawled across my tongue.
If he didn’t make another move, there would be hell to pay, and I couldn’t be responsible for—
The flat of his tongue unfurled and dragged up my slit in a single, unbroken lick. Electricity crackled along my flesh, blitzing over the lips of my cunt and swarming the rest of my body like a shockwave. A stunned whine uncoiled from my vocal cords.
I seized the ropes. “Fuck!”
The word launched into the air. Humming, Aire sloped his tongue over my doused cunt, swabbing the arousal, lapping it onto his palate.
The stimulation chipped me to pieces, my weight hanging off the seat, my fingers gripping the swing handles.
I squirmed to the point where I might give my palms rope burn. But I didn’t care.
I didn’t fucking care. About anything.
Yet Aire did. While slanting his mouth over my flesh, he spanned my ass, heaving my pussy forward, the better to whet his appetite.
With languid progression, he rowed his tongue from the soaked opening to my inflated clit, never quite reaching the apex before skimming back down again.
This maneuver intensified the delicious frustration, every delicate lash taking me apart.
The swing creaked. Stars flicked through the leafy canopy.
Sweat beaded over my nape. My nipples pitted through the nightgown.
Aire took his time decimating my beliefs, drawing his tongue over my crease until I was cracking out of my skin.
I planted my feet on his thighs, spanning myself farther.
He sketched the outer and inner rims of my walls, licked every drop flowing out of me, and then dipped the point of his tongue into my hole.
Once. Just once.
I whimpered, needing more. But I wouldn’t beg.
Aire’s mouth curled inside my pussy and then withdrew, his lips climbing to the swollen nub of skin peeking from my bare cunt. Tight. Perked. Sensitive. And there, he swiped his tongue around the apex.
I snapped into an arch. “Oh… oh, my god.”
A hungry noise seared from Aire’s throat.
The swirl of his tongue around my clit set fire to my nerves, transporting me to another realm.
He orbited the stud, the tortuous circuit inflating my skin.
Suspended against his mouth, my hair draped down my back, and my breasts hoisted into the night air, desolate noises shooting from my throat into the sky.
After minutes or hours of this, Aire’s warm tongue flicked the crest, patting it lightly. I flung my head back, my mouth fully open. Oh, Seasons.
Oh, Seasons .
Sighing in contentment against my clit, Aire dabbed the peak. Over and over, those tiny, terrible licks spasmed through me. The patient rhythm only magnified the torment, every atom sizzling like a wire, my chants fragmenting into sobs.
I didn’t know the half of it until Aire’s hot mouth strapped around my clit, trapping the small kernel between his lips. Then he gave a soft suck.
That’s when I let loose. “Aire!” I shouted. “Oh, fuck!”