28
Aire
Greed had no place in the heart of a true knight. I had never considered myself susceptible, nor allowed vagaries to overpower my control.
Yet no longer could I make that claim with confidence. For I had become insatiable to a relentless, territorial appetite. The taste of her climax throttled my reserves, the sweet flavor of Aspen’s pussy lingering on my palate like an elixir.
My cock stood high, bridging from my pants like a goddamn pole. My heart thumped with abandon, beating faster than avian wings.
As for my thoughts, they did not exist.
No. Only she existed.
Filling the swing like a woodland goddess, Aspen’s bones shook. Even so, she maintained her grip on the ropes as I had instructed.
Saints of nature be damned. Despite my lack of experience at sexual play, I had enjoyed issuing that command.
More importantly, Aspen had enjoyed hearing the instruction, if only to prove herself up for the task. And although she had complied, this woman remained in charge.
What other adventurous devices could we put to use?
Poet would have extravagantly unorthodox opinions about this, itemizing a list longer than my fucking arm. Masks, tethers, and dildos would top his catalogue. Images of potential gadgets ejected heat to my throat.
As we came up for air, a cloud descended over her features. My revelry was moot. We had vowed to do this only once more.
Stars trickled light across the treehouses, and a mosaic of leaves glinted in the dark.
The creek burbled from the ground level.
Long before I sank to my knees for Aspen, the owl had departed, heeding my silent entreaty for privacy.
While I did not have Nicu’s talent for bonding with all dwellers of the fauna world, avians remained the exception.
Aspen and I panted at one another. Prostrating myself before this temptress, I savored the fleeting aftermath.
Her lustrous hair tumbled in waves around that flushed face. The foliage motifs had warmed beneath my lips. Those heavenly thighs clasped my skull, her limbs still hitched atop my shoulders.
Pink tinged Aspen’s clitoris, the flesh raw from the onslaught of my tongue. The shaven flanks of her cunt glistened with her climax.
Fuck. I could feast on her all night, make her come a dozen times at every outlook post in this folkloric dominion.
Having done this to other women did not compare. My previous companions were demure, shaking violently atop the mattress yet reticent about their desires.
Aspen had no such compunction. She said what she wanted. She rarely held back. In the throes of rapture, this woman showed more honesty than prior lovers.
After a sustained moment, I detached her legs from my shoulders. Gingerly, I pulled on the lever and lowered her slack limbs to the floor. With my balls still aching and my rationale nowhere to be found, I slid the nightgown over her hips.
Aspen jolted as if my docile touch stung. She wiggled and reached for the hem. “I can—”
“I know,” I coaxed. “I know you can do it yourself. But please, allow me.”
Let me take care of you. If only for another minute.
Something tender floated across those eyes. And with that, something equally tender crept through the chinks in my soul.
I smoothed out the nightgown, then capitulated. Exhaling in supplication, I caved under that bereft look, my head falling into her lap.
My conscience should regret this, as I should have regretted every prohibited kiss, moan, smile, laugh, and whisper. However, I could not. To hear, feel, and embrace her tonight, I would have damned myself to a lifetime of retribution.
Aspen combed through my hair, then hunched forward and pressed her forehead to the crown of my scalp. For a while, we remained this way. Then we moved on.
I stood, guiding her with me. My undignified ego could not deny the satisfaction of seeing her limbs quaver like jelly. She would refuse an escort to her cabin, but I would offer anyway.
“If I may,” I began.
“Thank you,” she husked. “But…”
Enough said. I balled my hands behind my back and squeezed until the tendons threatened to pop. “All right.”
Not all right. None of this was fucking all right.
Certainly not the ungentlemanly inclinations flitting through my mind.
Grab her again. Hoist her off the floor. Press her to the nearest tree. Tear off that nightgown. Wrap her around my bulk and take her until the sun rises.
Make her scream. Make her come. Make her yours.
Summoning the willpower of an immortal, I straightened. Cupping the woman’s hand, I brushed my lips to her knuckles. “Aspen.”
“Aire,” she breathed.
Other words passed between us. To meet at dawn. To dress inconspicuously. To bring our weapons. Then to infiltrate an enemy camp.
We’d plotted this while traveling through Autumn. Intending to diffuse what just happened and refocus, we recapped the particulars. Then by some merciful force of nature, I found the strength to let her go.