35
Aire
Like weapons, we collided. Our bodies crashed together with the force of steel—sharp, combative, lethal. Aspen’s plush tits struck my torso, her heart slamming into my own, our chests blasting into one another.
A savage, unrecognizable noise carved from my throat as I clamped my hand around her nape and hauled the woman forward.
Instead of crushing my mouth to hers, I swooped down, snatching her neck between my teeth.
The raging pulse in her veins thumped against my tongue, its tempo as violent as mine.
Overwrought, I skated the tips of my canines over Aspen’s flesh with an unholy appetite, hellbent on branding this woman.
On a moan, Aspen whipped her head back and sheared through my hair, yanking on the roots until my scalp burned. Erotic pain shot from my cranium to my cock. The bridge rose hot and heavy, the roof of my phallus bloating with each carnal sound she made.
Aspen did not hold fast for balance. No, she ripped my hair asunder for dominance.
Every destructive pull broke me out of my skin, unleashing a primitive being that had long been dormant, an animalistic side I hadn’t foreseen existed.
And how I would let her peel back that husk, expose the raw and corporeal edges of my being.
Repeatedly, endlessly, I would take leave of my dutiful senses, abolish my own cultivated rules, and throw caution to the wind for her.
Aspen’s breasts rushed against my skin, the hard nipples abrading my pectorals. Another uncivilized sound rumbled from me, jagged enough to saw through marble.
Locking Aspen’s head in place, I sank my aching incisors into her skin until she gasped, then drew on the flesh, sucking hard. With my free hand, I clenched her ass, hefting her into me.
Ravenous, I feasted on her pulse as if it were either my last meal or my first kill. Then I veered, cutting across her collarbone, nipping and lapping. The taste of this woman leaked into my palate. My bloodthirsty gums ached, and my fingernails pinched her buttocks like talons.
Aspen hissed in pleasure, tremors firing down her curves. Part vixen, all warrior, she matched my agitation, attacking with equal vehemence. Those fierce lips bit and swabbed the corner of my earlobe, the stimulation maddening.
With the devotion of a zealot, I jerked open her cape and pitched the infernal garment to the floor. Keeping her neckline at my behest, I raked my mouth down the gulf of her clavicle and captured the top of one swollen breast.
Arching into my frame, she keened, the response amplifying when I descended and cinched my lips around a turgid nipple, drawing it through the material.
Hollering, Aspen looped one thigh over my hip.
Refusing to let go of her backside, my unfettered hand hitched that limb farther off the ground, fitting her to me, folding her closer, tighter, firmer.
Feral for more, I dragged the neckline down.
That same breast leaped into the night air, that dark nipple toughing, the sight watering my mouth.
I’d seen her maidenhood, filled it with my fingers and tongue, but I never beheld the rest. From the teardrop swell to the plump fullness, with delineated leaves painting a mural on her skin.
Aspen hung onto me, her eyes driving down to check my reaction, her respirations as frenzied as my own. She would slay me if I stopped.
But I would not stop. Never would I fucking stop.
On a hum, I pursed around the stem, tugging on the ruched flesh until Aspen’s moan split, her nipple pebbling against my slick tongue. Wrenching on the rest of her bodice, I shoved the other breast from the material and transferred my lips to the second bud, supping like a man possessed.
Nowhere near done with me, she ground those wide hips into my pelvis, the escalating temperature of her pussy brimming through her clothes.
Fucking Seasons. She bucked so hard, the tapered shape of her cunt skidded over my sac, her intimate lips rubbing up and down my crown.
This siren drenched the fabric of her pants clean through, the saturation bloating me to a painful size.
We groaned, my breath panting into her tits, her exhales vaulting to the sky. The synonymous commotion unhinged me further, my frenulum tingling, my erection pushing into the front of my hose.
Too tight. Too constrictive.
The presence of clothing felt wrong, blasphemous. And rectifiable. Prying my mouth from Aspen’s breast, I dropped her thigh, then released her ass.
Previous discussions reminded me that our sexually relentless clan indulged in contraceptives imported from Spring. In the tournament arena at the castle, Aspen mentioned taking Spring bundleberries on a routine basis. For what I intended to do to her, we would be safe. Thus, I discerned the rest.
Barely coherent, I bowed my head and torched my lips over hers. “Say it.”
Hectic, she nodded. “Fuck me.”
My cock elevated. Despite every second of compiled desire and anguish that had transformed me into a debauched being, I’d needed this one final assurance. One glorious proclamation granting me this liberty.
Those graphic words ended my suffering.
Yes, here. Yes, now.
Civility fled me. All means of composure, moderation, and self-control vanished in a puff of smoke. Forty feet above the earth, I lose my everlasting, fucking nerve.
Seizing the flaps of her corset, I gave a livid yank. Fabric shrieked, the garment shedding with such ferocity that Aspen staggered in place. Her tits popped into full display, her body stripped to the waist, the flesh laced in markings—a forest unto itself.
Not to be outpaced, Aspen joined the maelstrom. With rough motions, we clawed at one another, textiles reducing to filaments. I wrested the smith belt from her hips while she grabbed my waistband and heaved me toward her, the closures unsnapping beneath her fingers.
Fuming, I chucked the tool belt aside. Aspen shuffled backward and hopped onto one of the merlons, kicking her legs and helping me tear the pants down, baring every inch of decorated skin.
Flared hips, voluptuous thighs, shapely calves.
The axe and its harness encircled one upper thigh in the fashion of a garter, the only accessory left.
With a punishing gleam, the cruel woman spanned her legs apart, planting her soles on the stones, spreading her drenched cunt to my gaze.
Seasons take pity on me. The slim pleats lining her pussy glistened, wetness coated the slit, and the nub of her clitoris rose from the shaven flesh. In all my days, I’d never witnessed anything more exquisite.
My erection stood high, blood pumping to the roof. And yet I would punish her back for tonight, for testing my resolve, for pushing me to the brink.
I’d ridden here shirtless, with only my broadswords attached to my back. Aspen’s attention ransacked every contour of my torso, from the span of my pecs to my narrow abdomen, gradually descending to the lump in my pants. Moments ago, she loosened the flaps, the panels slumping, framing my hipbones.
Licking her savory lips, Aspen snared my waist. With a rough jolt, she towed the garment down.
My cock sprang from the vent. Her breathing stalled, then rushed out in a whoosh.
Ascending from the weighty sac, my column stood thick and firm, with veins inflating around its girth. In contrast to my light complexion, a ruddy flush glossed the pommel of my cock, the head round and tight at its center, where a translucent droplet pressed through the slit.
I would call it arousal. She would call it cum.
Heaven help me, I liked her choice better.
Aspen’s rapt gaze expanded my length, boosting it to my navel.
Cool air brushed my foreskin, clashing with the heat surging to my crown.
My fingers itched to do something I never had, to brace my cock and massage the elastic layer of skin while she watched.
Yet that would take additional time, and I lacked the capacity for pacing, for she had annihilated that weeks ago.
Aspen must have sensed this. Scrambling off the merlon, she planted her body flush with mine and wedged her fingers between us. And I damn near lost my mind when she twined her hand around my cock, stroking up and down, her thumb sweeping the bead of cum.
The broadswords were still affixed to my spine. I had to get them off quickly.
Yet a groan cracked from my lungs. “The longer you do that, the more I shall languish.”
“I’ll stop on one condition.” Draping her tongue across my seething lips, she whispered, “Promise to fuck me like a fighter. Promise to fuck me with that big, powerful body and virtuous cock.”
Oh, fuck the swords. A carnivorous growl sliced across my tongue, my hands trapped her hips, and I whipped Aspen around. She gasped, spinning to face the woodland canopy shrouding us from view, so far off the understory no one would hear her scream above the wind.
We chuffed the same oxygen, exhilarated anger expelling from our chests. I positioned myself against her spine, my pectorals brushing her shoulders. With accelerated motions, I walked her to the edge, her naked body framed by the crenelations.
With any other conquest, the dirty words would have scandalized me. From her, the invitation spurred an untamed response.
“Take heed, asking for promises,” I warned, my exhalation skimming her ear like a blade. “I’m neither feeling virtuous, nor the least bit fucking noble.”
“I doubt that,” she baited. “Good men don’t know how to fuck any differently—”
She yelped as I collared her throat, caught one breast, and swatted my cock against the split of her ass. “Oh yes, we fucking do,” I hissed into her flushed cheek. “Test me on this. Command me.”
In a rush of motion, Aspen planted her palms on the crenelations, scissored her thighs apart, and tilted her waist. The position exhibited the ample contours of her ass, the glistening shadow of her pussy tucked into the gap.
“Hard,” she ordered, taking charge once more. “Fuck me hard, knight.”