49 #2
Saints of nature preserve me. She fisted the grip and jerked her arm back and forth, every punctuated snap of the blade jolting her into motion.
My voice dipped to an uncivil register. “Open wider for me.”
Nodding, Aspen fanned her thighs farther, granting me the liberty of an unhampered view, my weapon inundating her cunt.
As she rode the pommel and advanced to the grip, I unbuckled the front of my leather pants. “Wider, still.”
She cranked her hand faster, the velocity splaying her limbs, grunts sprinting from her lips. Her eyes landed on my bare cock rising from the panels, her pupils flashing as the engorged head darkened.
Stepping between Aspen’s legs, I slung my arm around her waist and aligned my erection flush with her swollen clitoris. Rolling my backside, I moved in tandem with the sword, the ledge of my cock rubbing the kernel of flesh at her center.
Aspen gave a shout. “Oh!”
“How’s this?” I growled, towing my length up and down over her ruched flesh.
Her only response was a hoarse inflection, which she muffled by sinking her teeth into my shoulder. I hissed, inviting the pleasure-pain. All the while, my cock and sword fucked her until she came against us both.
***
Dirty talk came next. Another novelty, coupled with anal sex. While I hunched Aspen over one of the bridges at midnight, a slew of naughty words passed between us.
“Bend me deeper.”
“Take my cock longer.”
Seasons. My balls warmed, the titillation fueling me to slide her thighs farther and piston deeper.
She bobbed toward the vista, her anus undulating around my length. Although Aspen had experience with this position, I’d never partaken before. Autumn nobility rarely experimented as Summer or Winter did. To say nothing of Sinful Spring.
Aspen turned what I once overlooked into the most exquisite form of torment.
Groaning, I reeled my waist, the shallow bob of my cock shoving cries off her lips.
The balm she’d stolen from Lyrik’s chamber coaxed Aspen’s opening to accommodate me, the tight grasp of her buttocks sending my eyes to the back of my head.
Indeed. We taught each other well.
***
While awaiting reinforcements from the clan, we kept watch over the knights’ camp and renovated portions of treehouses.
In her free hours, Aspen continued drafting new weapon designs. Two of them included a special type of rope for Flare and a blade that grew cold when it pierced the body, which suited Jeryn’s taste. Excited, she presented them to me and Nicu for feedback.
Routinely, we turned the enclave into a training complex. Sometimes Lyrik joined, which yielded antagonistic results.
Not for the first time, the rogue divested himself of his shirt, cliffs of skin luring Nicu’s gaze like a confectionery.
He’d been educated on intercourse by his parents, especially his father.
This much, I knew. But while the young man had identified his attraction to males at an early age, and while his singular beauty drew unprejudiced suitors at court, none had seized Nicu’s interest for more than friendship.
With Lyrik’s athletic physique on display, including a few knife scars and chemical burns I hadn’t noticed before, I sensed the disruption in my liege. His pupils eclipsed the green in his irises. Something pure and possibly vexed beset his countenance.
Nicu loved everyone he met. He’d never despised a soul, other than King Rhys.
Even when the conservative supremacists at court discreetly snubbed his presence—always when Poet, Briar, and Avalea were absent—Nicu faced them all with mettle and spirit.
No one had ever pushed his composure, nor his temperament.
Until now.
Externally, Nicu did not favor Lyrik. Not in ways he could make peace with.
The squatter exercised his rondel dagger against my broadswords. During our round, he spun and flipped the weapon into complicated maneuvers, as if he’d been intrinsically bonded to the apparatus. Or as if he had been bred with privileged combat knowledge.
I swapped a glance with Aspen, who frowned in kind. She had won the first match against him, only by a margin.
He was a good fighter. Too good for our peace of mind.
Nicu’s turn came. He had done well with the blade Aspen constructed for him, but he still required advancement in hand-to-hand matches. Poet had brought me up to speed on that.
It would take a feat for Nicu to progress, to understand the fundamentals and where to aim his fists during quick-motion jabs. Yet soon enough, he would find his own footing. I felt certain of it.
Trusting the males could handle it, I paired Lyrik with Nicu during training. At the onset, Lyrik complained, calling it an unfair fight.
“Come on,” he sneered. “I can’t bash in the songbird’s face—”
Nicu’s right hook landed, knocking the prick square off his feet.
On a shocked grunt, Lyrik pitched backward, his corded muscles slamming into the ground.
Instead of remorse, satisfaction fired across my liege’s face like a bolt of flame.
Shaking out his hand, he stared down at the squatter with the spiteful glee of a faerie, as if he’d just discovered the honed art of trickery, in addition to experiencing the endorphin rush of his life.
Blood trickled from the corner of Lyrik’s mouth, and fury contorted his expression. With the force of a cannon, he launched into motion, his earring flashing as sharply as his pupils. Vaulting off the grass, the inflammatory man lunged in retaliation.
Hissing, I got there first. My arm whipped out, shackling Lyrik’s waist to hold him back.
Would Lyrik have actually hurt Nicu? I doubted it. Otherwise, I’d have snapped the man’s neck myself.
From the way Lyrik’s eyes burned, I had a feeling the rogue would have done something entirely different if he’d gotten his hands on the Royal Son.
***
I would like to say we were dignified, but I would be lying. The insatiability extended to private weapon drills, while Aspen wheeled away from me, dodging the lash of my sword.
Bracing for another attack, I held up my cupped palm and crooked my fingers twice, beckoning her. Aspen flipped the axe, the blade extending and retracting into grooves. A dexterous upgrade she’d given the weapon prior to our sojourn.
Powering across the glade, the woman swung at my torso. I leaped back, my abdomen caving to avoid the strike, then I thrust my sword, invigorated when she managed to block me.
To share this same passion. It was nothing short of exhilarating.
Whenever her motifs stung, she grimaced and fought harder. I loathed my inability to help but planned to massage her skin later.
Once I took her down.
With our weapons crossed, we pushed our weight into each other. She made a bawdy remark. I kissed her swiftly over the blades.
Then we flew backward and threw ourselves into it again. Her axe clattered against my swords. We pivoted, ducked, and vaulted around one another like a mating display.
Whirling into a final stance, we froze. At an impasse, my chest thumped into hers, the right breast heaved across my bicep, and the hair on my forearms rose.
Fog laced the enclave’s wooded understory. Dawn washed into the forest.
Although I fucked her soundly last night, a warning jumped off my tongue. “Disarm before I smack that weapon out of your hand and grab you.”
Aspen smirked. “Make me.”
Sixty seconds later, my back hit the grass. The woman sidled on top, her naked thighs straddling my waist, and our clothes lay in a deserted pile. Stripped and grunting, she sat on my feverish cock and ground her pussy until a bellow pressed against my teeth.
“Fuck,” I choked. “Fuck, Aspen.”
“Do you yield?” she purred, her soaked cunt charging faster.
Somehow, I maintained my grip on the sword, which rested near my head. Meanwhile, Aspen tucked her axe behind her tailbone and bucked on my throbbing cock.
The first one to drop their weapon would lose this match. That was the new rule.
I arched into her cleft, too far gone to reply. But no, I would not yield until she came first. Hitching my ass off the ground, I launched my cock upright, pelting her deeply.
Aspen’s mouth dropped open, a moan cracking off her lips. Her eyes tensed, her body galloping on me, those beautiful tits bouncing. Even then, she fisted her axe and railed me in kind, each of us attacking, fucking, hollering.
As I struck that tight spot inside her, Aspen’s pussy convulsed. With a scream, she hunched into me, her frame shuddering, liquid pouring onto my sac. While she came, her fingers clenched the axe firmer, the weapon flashing like a prize.
And then her tongue licked the rim of my mouth. “Yield, Noble Knight.”
To emphasize this order, she flexed her inner muscles. The contraction finished me off, my cock rupturing, pleasure spurting from my crown. My fingers released the sword as I bowed into her, roaring, coming, yielding.
***
After that combative bout of sex, we dozed in the grass, then foraged for our garments. I stepped into my pants but ignored the shirt, opting to encircle Aspen’s middle and nibble on her shoulder instead.
She chuckled. “Looks like I won.”
“By a landslide,” I confirmed. “Which means a rematch is in order.”
Aspen shivered. And she might have turned in my arms. And I might have embraced her until another hour passed. Or perhaps I would have kept my lady in this place for much longer.
But that’s when hooves pounded across the enclave. And that’s when the shouts of battle rang out.