38. Pippi
Alistair disappeared.
He’d carried me into the sea and waited until I had a secure handhold on a stooped rock. And then he’d gone under, leaving me bobbing up and down with the lazy waves, my skirt pooching in the water around me, my underside floating bare underneath.
Fear might’ve crept in then. Even though I was securely holding a rock, the ocean and I would never be on friendly terms. But I trusted Alistair. And?—
Something slithered up my leg.
“Oooh!” I squealed, jumped, and whacked my shoulder against the rock.
“It’s me, Pippi,” Alistair laughed.
“Don’t do that. I thought it was a snake !”
“A snake?”
“Some of them swim, don’t they?”
“Yesssssssssss. ” He sucked the S between his teeth.
“You’re too much sometimes.” I dug my nails into the porous rock. “Has anyone ever told you—” I jolted and kicked out when that slithery thing danced along my inner thigh.
“Oh dear,” Alistair said. “You’re very…s…s…j-j-jumpy.”
“What—is—is that your tongue ?” I squawked.
“Yes.”
Stars help me.
He had to hold the Guinness World Record for the longest tongue known to man or beast. Because the organ was wrapped around my thigh, and still had enough excess to dribble down to my calf.
I gulped.
Alistair chuffed and massaged the tip of his tongue against my shin, calming me.
“In my defense,” I said, “this feels… strange .”
“Strange how?”
The sheer length of it was odd, for one.
The textures, for another. Its topside was as abrasive as a cat’s tongue. But Alistair wielded it gingerly, letting me feel the scrape of the organ against my skin, but not allowing the bristles to dig or gouge.
“Pippi?” Alistair pressed when I didn’t answer. “Strange how?”
His concern fluttered in my belly.
“It’s different,” I managed. “I guess. And weird that you can talk while doing that.”
“Ah…Well…” His tongue arched up, brushing my upper thigh before receding. “I’m not talking.”
“That’s right. You’re?—”
I froze.
Because his snake-like tongue vanished.
And I did not like the sudden burbling of mischief in my chest.
Okay, no, I liked it. A lot. Too much.
“Alistair?”
He hummed.
“What are you—” A groan burst out of me when he dragged his tongue between my legs in light, quick strokes.
It was shocking, having a rough appendage caressing that delicate area.
Shocking how good it felt.
How quickly it left me aching. Wanting.
Alistair disappeared again.
My nails clawed into the rock as I instinctively bucked my hips, searching for him.
“That sound”—he dropped his voice to a gravelly octave that had me shivering—“was lovely. What others do you make?”
“I— ummmpffff! ” I gasped when his tongue returned, tickling and teasing until I writhed.
And then he was gone. Again.
I whimpered.
He returned, slithering that tongue around my bum, tickling the lower part of my back, but leaving without touching that throbbing area between my legs.
I hefted myself more firmly against the rock.
Alistair twined that devilish organ around my midsection, beneath my blouse, and lavished at my belly button until I squiggled, laughing, and aching .
He left again.
I hissed.
He chuckled.
And, this time, it was the hard, craggy shape of his nose that touched me. It rubbed against my legs. My belly. My butt. Not in a way to amp me up, this was a reassuring touch.
I leaned into it.
He purred.
“Could you turn, Pippi?” His tongue touched my back in a soothing swipe. “Face away from the cliffs.”
I did. Because how could I not, when he asked in such a seductive drawl?
“Yes,” Alistair croaked. “Like that. Open your body more.”
I shivered, but some of the delight withered when the angle dipped me a little farther into the water.
My paddling feet connected with something solid and squishy.
Alistair.
“You’re still safe, Pippi,” Alistair said as I dragged my other foot onto…whatever body part I was standing on. “But if you ever feel not…safe…tell me to stop. Okay?”
“Okay.” My overfull heart struggled to stay afloat over the flood of affection, and excitement, and nerves, and… everything . All the vibrant emotions pulsating through both of us.
“Good,” Alistair rasped.
His tongue wormed up my legs, the tip gyrating over my clit. Stroking gingerly—so, so gingerly.
Stars…
I arched back, one hand clenching the rock, the other paddling frantically through the water.
Alistair explored. Slowly. Lazily. Fondling every inch of my body he could get his tongue on and lavishing that sensitive bundle of nerves until I strained and panted.
My pleasure rose to a frighteningly fast boil. It stole my breath. Made my vision go all bright and fuzzy.
“Oh, Alistair.” I arched my back, heaving, when he applied enough pressure to have me seeing stars. Zaps of ecstasy electrified my blood, bringing me so, so, so very close to boiling over.
His arousal answered, spiking into me with enough force to steal my breath.
We were feeding each other. Alistair and I.
The more pleasure he gave me, the more aroused he got.
The more aroused he got, the more pleasure I felt.
It was intoxicating.
Had it ever been like this before?
He dragged the bristles of his tongue over my legs, my butt, my clit. Letting me feel the prickling sting. Then he quieted the movements, soothing the light scrapes he’d left.
My head swam. And the heat inside my belly wrapped into a painfully tight coil. I keened .
“Lovely,” he murmured.
He turned his tongue in long, lazy strokes, alternating between light and hard pressure. Soft and scraping.
My poor body was so confused.
The pleasure was unlike anything . It blacked out my mind.
Made me see stars. Everything fell away—the waves, the rumble of the ocean, the harsh bite of the stone under my hand, the cold claws of the water.
The world shrank to that sensitive bundle between my thighs, and the way it throbbed beneath Alistair’s tongue.
The coiling pressure in my belly mounted to an uncomfortable burn.
I strained for release. Reaching for it. Moaning as Alistair dipped his tongue between my legs, fanning the heat, the ache, until I was ready to explode.
But the release wouldn’t come.
I grunted. And bucked. And cried. Frustrated now. Worried.
I was dangling over the edge. But I didn’t know how to fall.
“Relax, Pippi,” Alistair murmured as I flailed, chasing the release, and crying as it escaped before I could reach it.
Relax?
Stars, how could I, when?—
“Let me bring it to you,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
Water splashed over my face as I struggled.
His nose rubbed against my thighs. “Relax. You’re safe, Pippi.”
He pressed his tongue, hard, between my legs.
I wailed.
A deep purr ripped through him, rattling my entire body. “You are so lovely. I wish…”
Again, an image flashed in my head, like a splash of water, there and gone. Even trying to grab it this time didn’t work—it trickled through my fingers—but some fragments lingered.
That lean, long-limbed man crouched between my legs, his silken mop of curly hair tickling my thighs as his mouth latched to my clit, suckling. His hands pressed into my lower belly, massaging, holding me still. Forcing me to feel every ounce of sensation.
I reached for that man. Wanting to look into his eyes as I came untangled beneath his ministrations.
But my hand only swatted at water.
“I wish I could. Hold you.” Alistair’s nose rubbed against my front, stroking my breasts, while his tongue continued to work between my legs.
A new emotion assaulted me.
Love.
I sobbed. And my overwrought body finally came undone.
I squeezed my eyes shut as the orgasm ploughed through me, hard enough to send my body twisting into bone-rattling shudders. To have me seeing stars.
It ebbed slowly, leaving me panting. Weak. Shivering.
My arm slid bonelessly over the rock. And panic spiked my gut when my sluggish limbs sank into the water.
But then Alistair was under me, placing me securely onto his head and lifting me out of the sea.
I flopped onto my back between his horns and panted. Laughed.
I’d never had an orgasm rip through me like that. Never. Even when I had found release before, it’d never left me…
Giddy.
Drunk.
Content.
“Goodness, don’t let anyone else on the isle know you have a tongue like that.” I idly smoothed my wet skirt over my legs. “You’ll have all the women lining up. Married. Unmarried. Lesbian. Doesn’t matter. You’ll be licking until your tongue falls off.”
“My tongue”—Alistair fluffed with pride—“is only for you, Pippi.”
A tingle of pleasure snaked up my spine. I shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No.” I was the opposite—feverish, almost. “That was…I mean…it…” I laughed. Again. “I think you broke me,Alistair.”
“Good.” He chuckled.
“Now”— I flipped over, pulling myself shakily to my feet—“it’s time to brainstorm.”
“I’m sorry?”
I breathed in, absorbing the arousal still simmering in him.
“On how I can break you. Unfortunately, we can’t reenact your dream.
I don’t think all the lube in the world, magic or not, would make that anything less than excruciating.
Y’know? Assuming…I mean…No, I’m just gonna leave that there. But I can do other things.”
Alistair trembled.
I grinned, even as his shudders nearly upset my footing.
“You do not have to,” he said. Firmly. “What you gave me is enough.”
“I want to, though.” I bent and stroked his head. “At least as much as I can. I enjoy giving pleasure. Most of the time. When it’s not one-sided…which it’s not, with you. And I don’t know realistically how much I can do for you, but would you let me try? Please?”
“Well”—his voice broke around a bubble of desire—“if you i-i-i-in..sist. Insist. ”
That voice was going to be the death of me. Especially with it all hoarse and needy.
“I do. Insist,” I said.
“Then—” He broke off. Fear and excitement warred through him, murdering some of his impishness.
He was shy .
Worried.