Chapter 28 #3
My knees rubbed against the hard ground, but I was numb to it as my legs quivered and shook with the feelings he wrenched from me, all without a single physical touch.
Just as I met my end, Varro thrust forward one last time, emptying himself into my throat and slowly releasing my hair.
I slumped back to the floor trying to catch my breath and come down from the exhaustion of bringing Varro to a climax all while trying to manage my own.
I didn’t think I would ever get used to what he was capable of.
I don’t know that I wanted to. With his gift, it felt like an infinite number of possibilities were available to us.
Varro pulled up his pants—to my great disappointment—and knelt down to meet me on the ground, coaxing my limp body into his embrace.
“Had I only known that our dreams were pale in comparison to this, I’d have sent you to your knees sooner.”
For that remark, I jabbed my elbow into his ribs playfully, causing him to recoil with an amused huff.
“However, I don’t particularly enjoy being upstaged Cress…”
There was a sinister edge to his tone; one rife with challenge.
We sat on the ground, his legs on either side of me as my back rested against his chest.
“Watch and learn,” he whispered into my ear.
From over my right shoulder, he held his hand out directly in front of me.
His raised his pointer and middle finger together side by side and then slowly made a swishing gesture in front of my line of sight.
I jerked back into him as the feeling of that same motion unexpectedly grazed my sex. What in three moons?
He then began to use the same two fingers and made tiny circles in the air, sending shivers down my spine and straight to my core. I clasped my hands tightly to the sides of his legs as he continued the spirals, eliciting a moan from me.
“You will sing for me before this is at its end,” Varro warned.
His fingertips were like a waltz with precise steps and movements designed with perfect synchronicity, all of which were choreographed for my pleasure.
Dragging them up and down, he pressed one forward, which I could feel teasing my entrance.
All I could think to myself was I may never touch myself again, because this was otherworldly.
In between his torturous hand gestures, he placed kisses along my ear; his hot breath tickling me as he nipped.
As his hand motions quickened, I rasped, “Gods…!”
“Tell them I’m not sorry,” he said tauntingly, using my own words against me, giving them a whole new meaning.
Tears pricked at my eyes as I fought the building orgasm. I was damp with the pleasure he had drawn from me, and yet he was unmerciful in his movements. He raised his free hand above my other shoulder, and my eyes widened at the possibilities with two sets of fingers at his disposal.
“Watch,” he commanded.
My eyes had already been struggling to stay open in between the fluttering of constant bliss.
Yet, somehow, I watched as the left hand proceeded to make the small circular motions above the right hand, which used one finger stroking come hither into my entrance, hitting the most sensitive of spots.
The pressure began to build at the two sensations fighting for dominance.
The pulsing from my clit created an insatiable hunger inside me.
He lifted yet another finger, adding it to the one stroking me with a deeply satisfying pace and filling my aching need further.
Something about watching his craft, seeing the detail of it coincide with the sensations he created through Siren Song, provided even more allure than the act alone.
I wanted his gift to be mine so badly. I wanted to lift my hand and, with a simple squeeze of my fist, make him beg me for more.
Was he naturally this creative? Was all of this because I had not yet given myself to him, and he needed to find alternative ways to satisfy our desire for one another?
His pace increased rapidly; it felt as if he was truly inside me.
“Sing,” he rasped, his body sweating against mine, proving he was just as affected as I was by his actions. My back rose and fell against his chest in swells.
I rested my head back against his chest, closed my eyes, and lost myself fully to the dancing of his imaginary fingers.
Sparks radiated all across my body until a cry sprung forth from my lips, followed by three uncontrollable moans.
I freed the orgasm from its confines, letting myself crash into a euphoric free fall.
Varro lowered his hands and placed one across my heart, feeling as it practically beat out of my chest as I tried to shed myself of the frenzy he had caused.
“Come here,” he said, moving from behind me and standing, offering me his hand to rise.
I was reluctant to take it, unwilling to let our night end, my legs still shaky from his performance.
“I want to show you something,” he offered with a wicked smile, and I was delighted at the invitation to continue these private endeavors.