13. Chapter 13 The Waterfall #2
"No. You haven't." She kissed him. Slowly, with the spray from the falls landing on both of them, and then she slid her hands from his shoulders into his hair.
He held her at the waist with both hands, her skin hot under the cold water, and the kiss tasted like clean water and the salt on her lip where the sun had been.
She pulled back and looked at him. Her gold eyes were close, darker with the water and the shade from the rock wall.
She didn’t say anything. Her expression was the same one she’d worn looking at the mark, the same one she’d given him in the Crucible when the bond was new. She wasn’t performing anything.
“Here,” she said, and the falls almost covered it.
“Here what?”
“Here now.” Her legs tightened around his waist and her hips shifted against him, grinding the thin fabric of her bikini bottom over the hard length of him. The message was not complicated. “I want you and no one is here. I want you to fuck me. Can you do that for me?”
“I think that’s something I can do for you.”
He carried her to the pool’s edge where the rock formed a natural shelf, wide and flat and warmed by the afternoon sun.
She sat on the edge with her legs still locked around him, water running in bright rivulets down the deep red curves of her body.
The silver of her hair clung to her wet shoulders and the upper slopes of her breasts.
The bikini clung tighter, dark fabric stretched over heavy flesh, nipples already hard enough to show through.
He stood in waist-deep water between her thighs and she pulled him forward by the back of his neck and kissed him again, harder this time, tongue sliding against his.
Her tail found his leg under the surface and coiled tight, the tip flicking against the back of his thigh.
The bikini top came off when she reached behind herself and pulled the tie.
It fell between them and the water took it.
Her breasts hung free, heavy and full, the dark red nipples tight and hard from the cool water.
He caught the top before the current carried it and tossed it onto the rock beside her with a wet plop.
“That was thoughtful,” she said against his mouth. “I’d hate to lose that. It cost a lot of money.”
“Your money, not mine.”
“My money, my bikini, my rules.” She reached down between them and shoved the waistband of his trunks below his hips.
Her hand wrapped around his cock under the water, hot fingers against the cooler skin, and she stroked him twice with the direct efficiency she brought to everything.
The stroke was firm, thumb sweeping over the head, spreading the bead of precum that the water tried to steal. “These rules.”
He pulled the bikini bottom to one side, because getting it fully off in the water wasn’t worth the effort.
He wanted unrestricted access to her pussy now.
The fabric stretched tight against the soft outer curve of her hip.
She was already slick, the folds of her pussy flushed darker red and open for him.
She made a sound that was half-laugh, half-approval when the head of his cock nudged against her entrance.
“Efficient use of my bikini bottom.” She laughed against his mouth, then bit his lower lip. “I approve. Now quit playing around and fuck me.”
He pushed into her in one steady stroke.
The heat of her hit him like a brand. Tight, scorching, the water doing nothing to cool the way her body clenched around the sudden thickness of him.
She made a sharp sound and her head tipped back, water running down the line of her throat, her horns catching the sun in wet black arcs.
Her legs locked harder around his waist. Her nails pressed into his shoulders hard enough to leave crescents.
“Slow.” She said it quietly, holding his eyes. Her golden eyes locked on his. “Stay right there. I want to feel all of you.”
He moved slowly. Deep strokes that filled her fully and held there while her body tightened and fluttered around him.
The water lapped at his waist with the rhythm of every push.
The sound of the falls covered everything else.
She breathed shorter and brought her hands to his face, holding his jaw, thumbs against his cheeks, and she kept her eyes on him the whole time.
“You feel so good,” she said, voice low and rough. “Thick. Hot. I want this. I want all of this. Deeper… yes. Just like that.”
He gave her what she asked for. He pressed his mouth to the line of her neck and she tilted into it, offering more skin.
He gripped her hips, fingers digging into the soft give of red flesh, pulling her forward to meet each stroke so that every thrust bottomed out inside her.
The wet sound of their bodies joined the waterfall’s noise without embarrassment.
Her breasts pressed against his chest, warm skin on warm skin despite the water cooling everything around them.
The hard points of her nipples dragged against him with every movement.
“Harder now. I can take it. I want to feel you stretching me open. Lucien. Fuck, yes! Right there. Don’t you dare pull back or I’ll fucking punch you in the face.”
He gave her harder thrusts. The rock shelf was solid under her ass; he used it, driving into her with short, powerful thrusts that made her breasts bounce and her silver hair stick to her wet cheeks.
Her tail squeezed his thigh in the same rhythm, the coil tightening every time he buried himself to the root.
She was so hot inside that it almost burned.
Slick and greedy, the walls of her pussy gripping and releasing in greedy pulses.
She came first. She was loud about it, as loud as she was about everything that mattered.
Her voice cracked on his name and her back arched hard, the mark on her forearm pressing flat against the sun-warmed rock where she’d braced herself.
Her pussy clamped down around him in hard, rhythmic pulses, milking him, trying to pull him deeper.
He kept moving through it, grinding against her clit on every inward stroke, and when she came down she pulled him closer and breathed into his neck, still trembling.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “I want to feel you come. Fill me up.”
He didn’t stop. He pressed deeper, hips rolling, and her legs pulled him in until there was nowhere left to go.
The heat of her, the tight rhythmic clench still fluttering around him, the way her nails dragged down his back—it broke him.
He came with his face against her shoulder, the release running through him in heavy waves.
Thick pulses of cum spilled into her while her hand held the back of his head and her tail squeezed his thigh under the water.
The sound he made was lost under the falls.
Hers hadn’t been. Neither of them cared.
They stayed connected. Her legs went loose around him but didn’t fall away.
He rested his hands on the warm rock on either side of her hips, still buried deep, feeling the soft aftershocks of her body around him and the slow trickle of his own release mixing with the water.
The waterfall kept its steady, indifferent noise.
She ran her fingers through his wet hair and rested her forehead against his. Her gold eyes were half-lidded, darker, and satisfied.
“So very efficient,” she murmured, the word warm against his mouth. “And thorough. I still approve so, so much.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad.”
"I like this place." Her voice had dropped half a register from where it usually sat. "We're coming back."
"Is that an order?"
"Everything is an order." She kissed the bridge of his nose. "See what happens when you do what I say? I let you fuck me."
Lucien chuckled. “Demon girl, you are going to be the death of me.”
They dressed on the warm rocks. The sun had crossed past its peak and the shadows reached the pool's western edge.
Liora wrung out her silver hair and it fell damp and heavy past her shoulders, sticking to her neck and back in places.
She pulled on her green top and dark skirt and her boots without rushing.
She left the left sleeve pushed above the elbow.
Her forearm was bare; the raised angular lines of the brand were plain and visible in the fading light.
She didn't pull the sleeve down.
The gesture that had been automatic since Lucien had marked her, the small habitual tug to bring the cuff to the wrist, didn't happen this time and wouldn’t happen again. She laced her boots and stood and picked up the brown paper package from the shop.
"Ready?" she said.
"I am," Lucien replied, pulling her close and kissing her once more.
They took the trail back down through the trees. The ground was easier going downhill and the loose rock was less of a problem with gravity doing the work. The sound of the waterfall faded behind them in stages, replaced by birdsong and the crunch of their boots on the packed dirt.
Liora walked beside him with the package under one arm and her free hand resting on his forearm. The angular lines on her forearm caught the late afternoon light each time the canopy opened above them. She didn't look down. She didn't tug her sleeve.
The trail leveled out as the trees thinned. The rooftops of Thalmeir appeared in the distance, gray stone and chimneys against the green hills. The sun sat low and their shadows stretched long behind them on the packed dirt.
Liora's shoulder bumped his arm as the trail jogged right, the same way it had on the walk up. She didn't correct the distance. Neither did he. They just looked at each other once more and smiled.