Chapter 16 #2
“Once upon a time.” The binds around Pru’s chest tightened.
“I don’t know what happened and she is clearly here alone, so I guess it’s all past tense now, but you two really should do more than just…
” Ceridwen gestured toward Rhiannon’s prone body, visibly uncomfortable.
Pru smiled, imagining Rhiannon taking great pleasure in making her sister squirm.
Maybe they weren’t so different and Ceridwen was right? As for talking…
“Maybe you should start saying words out loud that are more than whatever it is you need for said…” Now Ceridwen’s sharp cheekbones were tinged with crimson and her prim and proper pose all stiff.
She looked away, either to gather her thoughts or to master the blush, could be anyone’s guess.
When she turned and caught Pru smirking at her discomfort, she shook her head.
“Birds of a feather, the two of you. Talk, Prudence Ophelia. It helps.”
Ceridwen’s words still rang in Pru’s ears two night later. When Rhiannon leaned toward her, giving her plenty of time and space to evade, to sidestep, to ask questions. Talk. They needed to talk. Words that weren’t “harder” and “fuck me” and “please, please, please.”
Pru lifted her hand and drew Rhiannon’s mouth toward hers. Maybe talking wasn’t their strong suit. But this—this fire, this hunger, this need—was stronger than either of them.
The warmth of the kiss spread from the lips, down her throat like honey, sweet and tangy.
Her stomach clenched when Rhiannon guided her gently to the sturdy oak table in the middle of the spacious kitchen.
As her thighs hit the edge, she heard Patches scramble out of the room, undoubtedly followed by Boleyn.
Pru sank her fingers in the auburn tresses, getting her fill, for once reveling in the silken fire spilling in her palms. She tugged and combed and pulled and Rhiannon lifted her head, her eyes molten, dark and sly.
“Found my weakness, have you?” The purr of that voice.
Pru closed her eyes, savored it and tugged harder, bringing that wicked mouth back to hers again.
She licked the bottom lip until Rhiannon granted her access and then their tongues met, tentatively at first, then throwing caution to the wind, fast and wild.
And yet there was nothing of the rush of their other times here.
Underneath the desire was a tenderness both of them lacked before.
Rhiannon’s fingers touched her as if she would break at any time, as if she was precious, special.
Pru felt the unexpected tears spill from under her closed eyelids and Rhiannon kissed them away.
Her fingertips traced Pru’s jawline, dipping lower and following the pulse jumping wildly under her skin all the way down her clavicle.
Seeking, finding. What? Pru could not tell, but she lifted her arms obediently as her cardigan was gently pulled off, her blouse next, slower, Rhiannon’s mouth following her hands, tasting every exposed inch of skin.
Pru’s tears kept falling, the gentleness in the touch, in the sweetly murmured words of appreciation, of admiration, of gratitude, the sincerity behind them.
“So beautiful, Prudence. Like a lily of the valley, delicate, tender. So beautiful. Thank you, thank you.”
Pru did not know what Rhiannon was thanking her for, if she even knew it herself.
The ache at her very core, the hunger this woman, only this woman, had ever lit there, was like a winding spring.
Any second now another twist, another push would be too much and she’d unravel.
Would she be able to hold back then? And hold back what?
Rhiannon, perhaps sensing the turmoil, lifted her head from Pru’s chest and simply looked. Their eyes met and Pru felt the silver thread of their connection, the magic flowing from her to Rhiannon. Even if one-sided, even if not reciprocated, it was received.
For one moment the green of the iris was overcome by a tempest, and then Rhiannon blinked and it was gone, and Pru was grateful for it.
The truth of Rhiannon suppressing her power, holding it in, being tormented by it…
Pru never wanted to add even a small sliver to that torment and so closed her eyes and placed her hands on Rhiannon’s shoulders, not pushing, not pulling, just keeping the connection, leaning back on the desk, letting her make all the decisions.
A slow hum, sensual, guttural, was almost her undoing, but she kept her eyes shut and surrendered.
Rhiannon did not rush. The skirt was taken off, not simply lifted.
Her stockings rolled down one by one, and kisses followed the paths of Rhiannon’s fingers yet again.
And then that generous mouth went to work, backtracking its own path.
Rhiannon kissed her instep, her ankle, her calf, the inside of her knee, her sensitive tender skin of her inner thigh.
Pru let go and lay down fully on the hard surface of the table, the old wood cool under her naked shoulders.
The wicked lips kissed her inner thigh before slowly changing directions and moving down again, retracing its own caresses, before starting anew on the other leg. Pru moaned, shaking her head from side to side.
“You’re impatient, Prudence. Don’t you know I will give you everything you want? Everything and more.”
Pru barely registered the words, and the teasing tongue now licked along the line connecting hip and thigh, Rhiannon’s fingers nudging her underwear aside, so slowly, so torturously.
She squirmed and felt the answering smile on her skin, Rhiannon taking her time. So much time… Too much time…
“Not too much. I want to savor you. To taste you. You have one up on me and it’s only fair that I take my time indulging in your sweetness, Prudence.”
Pru felt her vision gray at the edges as Rhiannon finally pulled the cotton down and sampled. And yes, she took her sweet time, the tender licks to the very tip of her clit, to the broad strokes to its base, and to the reverent worshipping at her entrance.
Pru opened her eyes to watch Rhiannon take a small step back and bring both hands up, opening her thighs fully. Her mouth wet, her gaze bright with lust, and…wonder?
Rhiannon opened her thighs and just looked, as if Pru was…
“Beautiful, Prudence. So beautiful.” Rhiannon licked her bottom lip and hummed again, as if savoring Pru’s taste, and Pru almost passed out. She pushed against Rhiannon’s hands, her hunger almost painful, and Rhiannon lifted her eyes away from her spread pussy and looked at her.
“So beautiful and so impatient, Prudence.”
And then… Oh Goddess… Rhiannon Crowhart knelt at the edge of the table, bringing her face-to-face with Pru’s wet, aching—
Rhiannon licked and Prudence moaned. Rhiannon sucked and Prudence screamed.
A hand lifted and two fingers speared her, holding her in place better than the hands on her thighs ever did, and then she felt Rhiannon shift slightly and set a rhythm, and she realized Rhiannon was touching herself, stroking herself as she was licking and fucking Pru, and all Pru could do was look as those green eyes glanced up to meet hers.
Pru held on, her hands grabbing the edges of the table and holding on, her breathing ragged, her walls clenching around Rhiannon’s fingers with every stroke, her body closer and closer with each lick.
And the sound of Rhiannon fucking herself on her own fingers, the sound of how wet she was, almost threw her off the edge.
She whimpered, bit her lip, held on tighter, and then unclenched her grip, reached for Rhiannon’s hair and tugged.
Rhiannon’s growl was feral. She wrapped her lips around Pru’s clit, her tongue lapping at it faster, then licking the very tip, and that was all it took.
Pru bit her lip to hold back the scream.
She floated, her walls spasming, clenching.
And Rhiannon kept sucking, kept licking, kept stroking, and Pru, who had never had two in row, came again, her satisfaction dragging Rhiannon with her on a low moan.
When Pru lifted her head, Rhiannon was still on her knees, her face wet and peaceful on Pru’s thigh, her breathing slowing down, and her mouth twisted in that patented smirk. Sly, teasing. Familiar. Beloved.
Pru tried to swallow around the lump in her throat that almost choked her.
What had she done? She closed her eyes and pushed the treacherous word away.
The ache of caging this bird was akin to pulling out her own nails, and yet she wasn’t ready, wasn’t even remotely prepared for the repercussions of calling Rhiannon Crowhart’s smirk beloved.
Especially not naked and still feeling the aftershocks of two orgasms, definitely not with Rhiannon’s fingers still inside her.
And not with the scent of them clinging to her skin, making her long, making her yearn, for more.
So she took the coward’s way out and returned to the seed that Ceridwen planted earlier.
Pru ran her fingers through the tangled mess of Rhiannon’s hair spread all over her thighs and allowed reason and sanity to finally prevail, now that the need and hunger were sated, as she whispered gently, “We have to talk.”