Chapter Twelve
Senán
I’ve never been fond of roses. I don’t care for the smell, and as a gift they feel generic and, frankly, a little lazy.
But the rose gardens on the grounds of the resort are particularly beautiful—over two hundred varieties of the flower, as well as dozens of other species of plants and herbs, meticulously curated around a small labyrinth of waist-high hedges that’s a wonderful place for a wend.
It’s also the only location nearby where I can gather some of the trimmings I need for the next step in my potion.
“That was some trick, you know.”
The voice makes me jump, and I whip around to face the source of the words. There, sitting placidly on the grassy garden floor, is Ryder, leaning up against a topiary with his forearms resting on his knees. He twirls a single flower stem between his fingers, studying it idly.
I smile and slip my dagger and grimoire back into my satchel. “I do try to impress.”
Ryder laughs softly at the flower in his hand, then fixes me with a gaze that sends a jolt of heat through me, my nerves already buzzing in his presence.
He shifts his position on the ground, triceps and back muscles flexing under his t-shirt; I lick my lips and step closer. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
“I think it’s pretty obvious I enjoyed myself,” he says. His voice is low and playful and delicious. “Was kinda hoping I could return the favor.”
“I didn’t know you were skilled in the art of energy manipulation.”
“I’m not.”
“How were you planning on returning the favor, then?” The answer is obvious, of course. It becomes even more obvious as Ryder moves to kneel in front of me.
The garden is secluded from the rest of the resort, tucked away from the pool and other hotel amenities, but it is by no means private.
The only visual protection we have from any passing guests or employees is the waist-high hedge that I have my back against. If someone were to approach during our oncoming activities, Ryder, on his knees, would be hidden by the shrubbery. I, standing upright, would not.
I smile as Ryder’s warm, broad hands brush against my ankles underneath the flowing hem of my skirt.
“I have a few ideas,” he says. He doesn’t break eye contact as his hands creep up my calves, over my knees and thighs, and reach the edge of my briefs. I let him explore me how he pleases, knowing I could stop him with a word, lavishing in the sight of a man so willfully under my control.
He uses his hands to hold my hips in place as he leans forward, rubbing his face against my quickly growing hardness through the thin layers of fabric.
I hum in approval and brush an errant curl away from his forehead, causing him to look up, eyes wide and wanting like a dog waiting for a treat, and I have to bite back a moan at the sight.
Ryder lifts my skirt out of the way just enough to duck his head underneath, and then he’s mouthing at me, his breath hot and damp through the thin cotton of my underwear.
It’s dizzying, the heat of it, and I wish I had something solid to hold onto while the ground seems to tilt beneath my feet.
Before I can level myself, Ryder is already pulling the last barrier of fabric out of the way, exposing my flesh to a draft of balmy morning air for only a second before taking my cock into his mouth.
There’s no point trying to hold back my moan this time, and Ryder wastes no time in his work, immediately enveloping me until I can feel the back of his throat.
My knees begin to shake, the warmth and vigor of Ryder’s mouth overwhelming my senses, and I close my eyes momentarily to try and ground myself.
I can hear the quiet sound of nearby voices, not quite close enough to understand, and I clench my teeth over another moan as I wonder if anyone can see us, or if that would be enough to make me want him to stop.
I plant a hand on Ryder’s shoulder to maintain my balance, squeezing at his muscles through the fabric that hides them from sight.
Ryder keeps up his efforts, holding nothing back, working my cock in his mouth like he’s starved for it, like he’s wanted this longer than I could know.
I’m swept up by the enthusiasm, by the sheer unexpected talent, nearing the edge faster than I can keep up with, and I dig my fingernails into his back as though that might help me keep hold of my rapidly diminishing faculties.
It’s a futile attempt, however, as Ryder grabs both of my hands and plants them on the back of his head, encouraging me to take over, to take control of his motion.
And ordinarily I would have happily obliged, but Ryder’s movements are already so perfect and I’m already so close that all I can really do is hold on and moan.
My breath has grown short, and my knees are going so weak that I’m surprised I’m still upright.
Ryder must know how close I am because he moans quietly and takes me in all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion, and the sound and feel of his willful gag combined with the strong hands gripping the backs of my thighs to pull me in deeper send me careening over the edge.
Someone surely must hear the sound that comes tumbling out of my mouth as I fill Ryder’s throat with my spend.
He sucks me through it, drinking me in, until my legs shake so badly that I can barely stand.
He finally emerges from underneath my skirt with a satisfied hum just before I collapse, panting, onto the grass in front of him.
I’m half-aware of Ryder sitting back on his heels to admire his handiwork. “Call it even?” he asks, voice breathless and hoarse as he stands up and brushes the dirt from his knees.
Now a debauched heap of black lace in the middle of an award-winning rose garden, I look up at Ryder and laugh. “Love, if you think I’m finished with you, you can think again.”
Ryder offers his hand, and I take it, letting him help me to my feet. “I didn’t say ‘finished,’” he says as he brings us face to face, “I said ‘even.’”
He holds his other hand up between us; between his fingers, a single, stunning, Black Magic Petunia.
The eye contact is as fierce and heated as ever, but only lasts a few seconds as Ryder looks past me, distracted by something over my shoulder—he waves, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and strolls off into the rest of the garden.
I hear giggling behind me and smile to myself, twirling the unusual flower in my fingers as I try to recall where I was in my shopping list.