Chapter 22
Camilla
“Hold on tight.” Stone turns his head and yells to me. I can barely hear him through the sound of his wings flapping as we climb into the sky.
Stone glides through the air with me straddling his back. His spade pointed tail arches over me like a metal bar, anchoring my chest forward against his back. This is the first time I’ve tried riding on his back, instead of in his arms, cradled against his chest.
The cool night air swooshes through my curls and blows them behind me.
My hair is going to be a tangled mess by the time I get home.
I don’t care; it makes me feel free. I close my eyes and rest my cheek against Stone’s back, trusting him completely to keep me safe.
The cool surface feels good against my skin, even if it’s a little rough.
Although dependent on Stone for my safety, flying with him makes me feel unattached and carefree. I never thought it would be possible to untether myself from everything holding me back. My past. My insecurities. My parents.
“I love flying with you.”
I know he heard me because the point of his tail tickles the back of my neck for a moment, before acting as a restraining bar once again.
I missed this the last two nights. It’s been three weeks since I found out that Stone is a gargoyle.
Three weeks since the first time Stone offered to fly me through the air, but the last two nights, storms, complete with lightning and tornadoes, have kept us grounded.
We made good use of our downtime working on the store. The kitchen is ready, the walls are painted, the lighting has been changed, and the new floor has set. Even though Stone works on it by himself up until this point, it’s coming together quickly.
Tonight, the moon and stars light the sky.
If we weren’t up so high, the clouds would hide the other winged creatures flying, but even with the heightened visibility, no one is close enough for me to get a good look.
I guess the soggy weather had them feeling cooped up and needing to stretch their wings.
That’s how I felt, and I don’t even have wings.
Stone climbs higher before slowly descending to land on his feet. We land on a rooftop, and he bends at the waist so that I can climb off his back.
“Start setting up while I change, and I’ll be right there.” I nod. I’m used to this. It doesn’t take him long to shift, but he’s shy and is more comfortable when I’m not looking.
I let the backpack slide off my shoulders, unzip it, and reach for the blanket inside.
I lay it out on the roof and then pull out the containers with the chocolate-covered strawberries and the piece of burnt cheesecake, and lastly, the can of whipped cream.
Big, strong arms wrap around my waist. He pulls me upright against his chest.
“Did I mention I love having you pressed against me with your legs spread?” Stone’s rumbly voice rasps in my ear before I feel his lips against my neck.
“Once or twice on the way over.”
“Mmm. I should have said it more.” I turn in his arms. “As much as I loved that, I love carrying you in my arms even more. That way I can look down at your beautiful face.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?” I’m surprised by the sincerity in his voice.
“That I love to look at you?”
I shrug. “Yes. That, and when you call me beautiful. You really do like me.”
“No, Camilla.” Unlike any other time in my life, his denial doesn’t concern me.
I don’t get overwhelmed with angst to the point I can’t breathe, or have pain in my belly because I feel like the rug is about to be pulled out from under me.
Everything about Stone—what he says and does—tells me that he truly cares.
He brushes the hair away from my face. “I don’t like you.
” He takes my hand and brings it to his lips for a sweet kiss. “I love you.”
There’s a fullness in my chest. A feeling of hope and contentment that a person only has when they feel cherished. It comes from Stone. From being with him. From the way he treats me, like I’m precious.
“Come.” Tugging his hand, I sit on the blanket and pull him to join me. “Sit.”
“What’s this?” He looks at the containers of food I brought with us as he settles down beside me and straightens out his legs.
“I brought dessert. An after-dinner picnic.” I show him a few of the closed containers, but pull them away before he can get a good look.
He sits so that our outer thighs touch. I pick up the container of chocolate-covered strawberries and the can of whipped cream. It’s not as good as my homemade cream, but it’ll do.
“What’s that?”
I turn my torso in a poor attempt to hide it so that I can surprise him.
“Close your eyes and open your mouth, and you’ll get a surprise.”
“You first.”
“C’mon, play along. You’ll like it.”
“I could say the same.”
I spray a little cream around the pointy peak of a strawberry, using my body to hide it from view, and cover his eyes with my hand.
“Now open your mouth, and don’t bite.” Once his lips part, I turn so that I’m perpendicular to him and rub the end of the strawberry over his bottom lip, leaving some of the cream in its wake. Pulling back a little, I watch Stone’s tongue lick it up.
“Mmm.”
“Open up again.” This time, he doesn’t argue and does as he’s told. Setting the tip over his bottom teeth, I instruct him to bite. Once he starts chewing, he opens his eyes.
“That’s delicious. I like this game.”
“I thought you might.” I feed him the rest of the strawberry, which he eats eagerly as I prepare the next one.
“My turn,” Stone says, after finishing his third.
“I already know what they are.”
“Uh, eh, do as you’re told,” he chides.
I take a breath, and unlike him, follow the directions.
“Now, open your mouth.” Without looking, I do. Just as I did to him, Stone rubs the decadent treat over my lips. I hear the sound of the can expelling more cream. “Stick out your tongue.” Again, I do as I’m told. Instead of feeling the coated fruit, Stone discharges a dollop of cream on it.
“Swallow and lick.” His gravelly voice orders with a thickness I’m not used to. I do so, keeping my eyes closed. A low, sensual growl sounds from him. “You look good doing that.”
I open my eyes to find him staring at me with a stare so hot I swear it melts my panties right off, as if they're edible. The moment is heady with heat, desire, and a book of unspoken vows between us.
Stone sets the food down and, with one arm braced behind me, he wraps his other around the front of my waist. His lips meet mine for a kiss as he carefully leads us into a lying position. Once I’m on my back, he reaches for the hem of my shirt and slides it up.
I adjust to help him lift it over my head. Neither of us speaks; words would only get in the way. The night is still and silent. Only the hum of the vent can be heard. Stone’s mouth crushes mine as his hand unbuttons my jeans. Inching over my skin, his large, rough hand glides up my belly.
Goosebumps prickle my skin, not from the cold, but from his titillating touch. Stone leans up on his elbow and reaches behind him for a strawberry.
“Suck,” he says, bringing it to my lips. Keeping my eyes open, I do as I’m told. “Now let me see you use that tongue to get it nice and wet.”
Stone growls and moans as I take instruction.
He removes the strawberry from my mouth and touches it to my neck.
Dragging the wet fruit down to my collarbone, Stone’s tongue licks the remnants of chocolate left behind, stopping only to tell me to lick the chocolate and get it nice and wet.
The small fruit is pulled down my décolletage, followed by Stone’s eager mouth.
“Open,” Stone orders. He puts the strawberry in my mouth up to its thickest part. “Hold this between your lips. Lick it, suck it, but don’t bite it.” I follow Stone’s directions as he works to take off my bra. Once he accomplishes his goal, he removes the strawberry.
“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. He circles the side of the strawberry over and around my pink peaks and surrounding areas. My nipples are tight and hard when his tongue flicks over them. Taking his time, Stone’s mouth attaches to and indulges in each bud as if they are a delicacy.
I lose myself in sensations as the cool night air contrasts with the warmth of his mouth.
The decadence of lying in want, shirtless outdoors under the moon and stars, is intoxicating.
Knowing there is a possibility that we could be discovered, not only by prying eyes with binoculars or a resident, but also by other creatures flying in the night, is an added aphrodisiac.
Tossing the strawberry to the side, Stone’s hand rests on my naval and slides down to the waistband of my thong. Under my jeans and over the thin material keeping my special place hidden, he cups my mound.
He doesn’t comment on the heat or dampness he’s met with, but uses his mouth to meet mine with a crushing kiss as he maneuvers the thin material and impales one of his large fingers into my pot of warm honey. I moan as he moves his finger inside me, circling, curling, then thrusting it in and out.
“So sexy,” he says, removing his hand and pulling away just before he shifts to his halfling form. His wings flair and flap, forcing him away from me momentarily, just before I cum.