20. Painted Release
Painted Release
Torren closed the plum door to Cypress’s rooms and took a deep breath. His heart was beating wildly, as if it would gallop straight out of his chest. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor.
She was still so close, her door only an arms length away from where he sat. Torren was tempted to go back through that door and lock them in together for the next several days.
The effects of the pixie wine were, mercifully, satiated for Cypress and himself. Mercifully, or unfortunately he couldn't quite tell.
Torren struggled to recall if he had ever gotten off on the sounds a woman made alone. The feel of her clenching around his fingers, the resulting gush of her release.
The front of his pants was slick with Cypress. And, the inside of his pants was painted in his own release.
Hours ago, when she came so violently around his fingers, screaming his name with her hand tangled in his hair, Torren had exploded.
Mother above, he almost felt like he could do it again just thinking about how she’d felt, the tilt of her lips and flush of her skin as she screamed his name.
Sighing, Torren collected himself and stood. Then, he forced himself to walk the remaining distance to his rooms.
Exhaustion made his limbs feel heavy and useless, but Torren doubted he would get any sleep.
Not after that.