46
Aspen
My surprised gasp came out soft, a delicate thread echoing through the cabin. The floor vanished under my feet as Aire packed me into his arms. Hooking beneath my thighs, he swept me against him like a bride.
My hands found his nape, then crawled higher into his hair. As his forehead dipped against mine, we grinned into one another, our faces resting close.
The pose was new for me. Not that I didn’t enjoy pulling a man across a room while tearing off our clothes, but this was mighty incredible. Especially with him.
A man I trusted. A man who saw me. A man who knew me.
All of me now.
I ducked my gaze, shocked at my own bashfulness. But instead of feeling meek or embarrassed, a thrill cantered through me.
I needed a moment to let it sink in. And if Aire witnessed this part, I didn’t mind. Because I didn’t need to hide a thing from this beautiful man. Not anymore.
Pecking my nose with his lips, Aire coaxed his own features down to mine. And I looked up, my pulse sprinting.
The shirt stretched across his pectorals. The lazy neckline offered a glimpse of his clavicle.
Carefully, I traced the bird’s dark wing. Aire’s intakes hitched, his hands tightened on me, and the lump in his pants grew more pronounced.
We stared, breathing in steady anticipation as he carried me to the bedroom. Floorboards creaked under his boots, and the flames poured ambient light into the adjoining chamber, where more candles flickered.
Warmth flowed across my skin. How he managed this while I’d been turned away, I had no idea.
Under the roof beams, my bed dominated the space, the large mattress stacked with pillows. At this point, I would have teased or made sexual demands. Instead, words deserted me.
The same for Aire, who held my eyes in the grip of his own. Our pants thickened, growing heavier in the quiet cabin.
Lowering me to the surface, the knight unfurled my body atop the quilt, the nightgown sliding to my upper thighs. Standing at the bed’s rim, he loomed. Dark clothes, light hair and irises, the contrast striking.
The tops of my breasts inflated from the neckline. His molten gaze tracked over my curves, the impact corporeal, touching without laying a hand on me. Feverish heat soaked every pore, my nipples toughened through the bodice, and my clit swelled.
Aire’s pupils expanded as if he knew. His torso rose and fell in shallow beats, measured restraint keeping him still. Yet under the low slung pants, the bridge of his cock stood high and rigid.
The erotic sight lured me forward. Sitting upright, I picked open the closures of his shirt, unveiling plates of smooth muscle, his broad chest expanding into view.
Aire held still, his upper frame contracting harshly while I worked apart the fastenings, each faint contact heightening his sensitivity.
It should have been intimidating to move at this pace, to explore the art of lovemaking. Instead, I accepted the challenge with relish.
And so much fucking love in my soul.
The shirt floated to the wooden planks. Sculpted ridges narrowed into a flexing abdomen that could hone a weapon. Fine hairs rose across his forearms. The tattoos flapped up one bulky bicep.
The vision parched my mouth. I craved to taste each one, to drape my tongue over the inked shapes, to feast on his moans.
On a husky groan, Aire shook his head. “Not yet.” Cupping my knees, he vowed, “You first.”
Leaning over me, he glided the hem up my waist, past my quavering stomach, and over my heavy breasts. Linen fluttered against my skin like moth wings. I arched, stretching to help as he swept the filmy nightgown from my head and tossed it aside.
My naked body sprawled under him. The points of my tits ruched. The line of my shaven cunt glistening with arousal.
Aire uttered a tormented noise. His gaze raked over my exposed pussy, the lips coated in fluid, the peg of my clit distended.
For a moment, his mouth went slack, and he struggled to find the words. “Lie back.”
Reclining, I sank into the mattress. Satisfied, Aire cupped beneath my knees and tugged, fanning my limbs apart. This skirted me nearer to the edge, the gap enabling him to step between my calves.
He rubbed circles into the cartilage of my limbs, loosening a sigh from my lungs.
Aire continued this path, following an invisible route, knowing where I needed him and how much pressure to use.
Rolling the pads of his thumbs, he massaged from my ankles, to my outer thighs, to my hipbones, to my ribcage.
Every patient stroke eased my muscles, his fingers kneading my joints.
Advancing into the vent of my legs gave him room to reach farther, to rub deeper. The edges of my breasts, my wrists, my neck. Down to the marrow, everything relaxed.
And then I realized.
The lingering pain from the tournament. The residual stings across my foliage markings.
They had dissipated. Knowing what fighting did to the motifs, Aire erased the hurt.
My eyelids watered. A tear popped from one corner and leaked to my temple.
I could take care of myself, but when had I ever let someone take care of me?
Aire bowed over me, brushing his mouth over the tear, then he mumbled against my lips, “No more pain. Only pleasure.”
I nodded into his mouth, accepting a brief, fervent kiss before he straightened. Then I gave myself over to the healing. With each concentrated ministration, the pangs faded. In their place, velvety sounds floated from my tongue, and a prolonged ache budded in my crease, wetting me before his gaze.
Aire crooned, “Lovely.” And when the noises cemented into moans, he raced his fingers down the center of my body, landing at the peak of my swollen clit. “So fucking lovely.”
The instant he nudged his thumb over the stud, I jolted into an arch. “Aire!”
“Yes,” he husked, dabbing the peg, circling it.
Every blood vessel set to burst. The steady pat of his finger inflated my flesh, triggering a rush of fluid, my pussy leaking onto his knuckles.
I gyrated on the mattress, seeking more traction.
So he gave it to me. Clamping one swell of my ass, he skimmed his free fingers up and down the rift, rowing leisurely, tending to this ache.
I keened to the ceiling and pitched my knees steeper, angling my pussy to his hand. The knight watched me writhe, watched me soak his hand. He paid rapt attention, listening to the distress tumbling from my throat.
As Aire removed his finger, I whimpered.
My plaintive whine condensed into an eager noise when those glazed digits landed on his pants.
While bolting his hooded gaze to mine, Aire undid the clasps, teasing the flaps open.
Between the sloped hipbones, the ruddy head of his cock rose into view.
Flushed and bloated, it stretched upward.
From the capped roof, a bead of cum pushed through.
My tongue passed across my teeth. I could swallow that droplet and subside off the flavor for days.
A tender growl ripped from Aire’s mouth. He stripped the pants down, the rest of his dick springing from the panels. The stem widened, the veins thickened, and his balls hung heavy.
Mine. All mine.
Kicking aside the garment, Aire towered naked. His imposing form ate up the background, candle flames dancing along the walls behind him. The firm profile of his ass tempted me, since I’d never gotten a full glimpse.
I extended and circled my index finger. The knight’s mouth curved, a hot little dimple burrowing into his face.
Obeying the command, he turned. And my respirations caught. The back was just as perfect as the rest of him, that taut ass smooth, shapely, and rock hard. I indulged to my heart’s content, planning to grab him there and hold on for dear life while that ass pumped.
Aire sensed this command before I voiced it. An enthusiastic hum drifted from his throat. Wheeling to face me, he snatched my thighs, about to spear them apart.
“Wait,” I rushed out.
The knight halted, a concerned look rippling across his face. But he had nothing to worry about. I wanted this. I wanted us. Though, not before I made something clear.
Bolstering on my elbows, I motioned for him to come closer. Aire complied, lowering himself, the width of his hips easing apart my limbs. We fell into the mattress, his frame hovering, the delicious smoothness of his body resting atop mine.
Security. Trust.
Skin on skin. His heart ramming against my own.
Enthralled, Aire cradled my cheek. “You can tell me anything.”
Anything. Everything.
No one had ever assured me of that. So before we started, I could tell him this.
“I love you too,” I breathed. “I love you, Aire.”
His expression collapsed, the words rushing through him like a tempest. Hypnotized, Aire gazed at me in wonder. A myriad of spellbound reactions shook across his features until they cemented into one. Happiness.
The knight’s mouth wreathed into a grin. As if he hadn’t dared to hope.
With an enraptured sigh, he captured my mouth. Folding our lips together, Aire drew us into a luxuriating kiss, his tongue swiping over mine. Tasting the words, we clasped one another’s jaws, our fingers and lips clutching.
Inching away, he brushed his mouth along my own. And I wiped a forelock from his face, our movements unhurried.
Then he straightened and took up where he left off. Snatching my knees, he whipped them apart, stretching my pussy.
In tandem, I linked my thighs over his hips. Bracing ourselves, we met halfway. As I nestled my slit closer, Aire prodded the hot ledge of his cock against me, the contact wringing groans from us.
A soft growl punched from Aire’s lips. I mewled, the heated ridge of his dick spine-tingling, my cunt pouring onto him.
We locked gazes as he seized my ass, sloped my hips off the mattress, and aligned my pussy with his cock. With agonizing slowness, Aire swung the tip. Probing my sodden walls, he flexed into me by an inch.