Chapter 34 Guillaume
Guillaume
She enflamed my entire body.
When I pulled her to me, it was an act of desperation and desire both. I had tried to keep her at arms’ length, hoping the distance would cool my attraction, both to her body and to her impossibly infuriating dedication to her cause and her quest.
And she was, irritatingly, also dedicated to her men.
Which included me…until the inevitable happened.
Until she saw me as I truly am: a killer.
Until then, why not? Why not enjoy for once, live for once, rather than existing in the border between life and death, the harbinger of fatality that the faerie had molded me to be?
So I kissed her, and when she kissed me back, I decided to unrepentantly continue.
There would be plenty of time to repent once she found out.
She pulled me to her, and so I let her steer me at first. My first ferocious kiss bled into a longer enmeshment of our lips and tongues, and I swore I would not moan when she wove her fingers into my hair, that was how illicitly pleasurable her touch was.
Merely knowing she chose to touch me…it made me shudder with want.
I looped my arms around her waist, feeling her slight curves through her shirt, before sliding them lower to scoop her up by the ass. Lifting her up entirely was no great feat, so it was with rapid and efficient strides that I took us to the room I had chosen as my own.
Our lips stayed melded together the entire time. The contact sent heat coursing through my veins, and excitement, so much headier than the thrill of the hunt and the chase.
It was a small rectangle of a room, containing a bed that was doubtless intended for one of higher station than me, a chest of drawers, a small writing desk, and a chair.
My small pack of belongings was on the chair, and so I laid her on the bed, dove-tender, though I walked through the world as a wolf.
A window high on the wall allowed late-afternoon light to drift in, and with my blindfold off, I barely even needed that much light to behold her lips part in longing the instant I pulled away.
I shucked off her pants—they had to have some complicated fastenings, of course they did, damn faerie garments—and then my own, leaving us both clad in shirts but nothing else.
I resumed kissing her as rapidly as I could, lowering myself on the bed to cover her with my body. Her breathing turned to moans, and I soaked in their breathy quality, feeling my cock expand against her soft belly, inflamed by the sounds she was making at my touch.
Her hands knotted in my hair again. The tug on my scalp sent jolts straight to my groin, making me groan with want. If only this once, I would not forsake my needs, but I would attend to hers first.
We continued to kiss deeply, fervently. I shifted so that I could work a hand under her shirt to cup her breast. She stiffened at the contact, then melted further into me, pressing her body against mine, as I began to massage her breast. I needed to feel more of her flesh against mine, so I withdrew to strip off her shirt, then mine.
She paused to remove the locket that hung between her breasts, and returned to me.
In moments we were enmeshed again, but this time her hands explored my back, alternating between gripping in one spot and sliding over muscle and scar tissue alike. I had not let anyone touch me like that in years, and I had not expected to be so sensitive to it.
But my back arched, and I groaned into her mouth. I migrated my hand to her other breast, plucking and cupping, and continued to kiss her as though she gave me breath.
Kissing was soon not enough, though I feared to let myself think about what enough might mean for her and me.
Our bodies fit perfectly together, and I ached to be inside her.
I held back because she deserved better from me than a rabidly quick fucking, but again, if I let myself ponder what she deserved, I would reach unpleasant conclusions, so I forestalled that line of thought by breaking the kiss to move down her body.
I lavished kisses on her throat, suckling on her pale white skin as though it were a feast. Throaty gasps rewarded me.
As I inhaled, I caught her scent: clean and balanced, with hints of horse and hay, but uniquely hers.
It made me redouble my efforts to practically devour her, and I moved my mouth to her collarbone.
From the way she clutched at my head and pulled me even closer to her, I ascertained that she liked it, even as I was careless with my teeth and stubble, leaving small reddish blotches where I grazed and sucked.
I moved lower.
I ignored the growing ache in my groin, the desire to thrust and claim.
Her cries filled my ears as I latched onto one breast, then the other, as though I could fit my entire mouth around it.
Where my mouth left off, my hand picked up, massaging and squeezing.
I had enough wits about me to be gentlest where I knew my calluses were sharpest.
“Keep touching me,” she whimpered. And I would, I would, I pledged in my soul, as long as she would have me.
I switched my mouth back to her other breast, and slid my hand down to her hips, grabbing at the slight curves there, gripping her pelvic bone as though it were a knife’s handle, something I knew as intimately as I knew myself.
And so I felt it when her hips began moving, as though seeking something. And even if I was not guaranteed future intimacy from her, and in fact would spurn her if I knew what was good for both of us, I wanted to be the one who gave her what she sought.
I migrated lower still, and immediately fastened my mouth to her core.
Wetness greeted me.
She stiffened, then went lax. An accompanying sharp exhale serenaded my ears.
And then she drove all thought out of my head by fisting her hands in my hair, tighter than ever, so I could feel my scalp pulling as she began to move my head up and down ever so slightly, pressing my mouth in to her core and lifting it away by degrees.
If my pride would not allow me to accept her rule as my sworn liege in the world outside, here, for these stolen moments, I could swath my sharp edges in lust and allow her hand to guide me.
So I let her establish the rhythm, and wielded my tongue as my weapon, hoping to elicit more of those breathy moans while I pleasured her.
As her hands pulled to guide, her thighs pushed in around my face.
I felt her legs hook over my back, one foot digging in just to the side of my spine.
As though she would squeeze the breath out of me…
but I loved it. I inhaled the scent of her, tasted her most intimate parts, and found myself aching to dine on her like this daily.
She sped up the rhythm, panting, and when her moans grew louder, I thought I heard her begin to say my name, which I could not bear, so I snaked a hand upward and clamped it over her mouth.
While she ground into my face and began to climax, she screamed, muffled though it was, and the hot exhale of breath on my hand, paired with the hot wetness under my tongue, almost made me join her in release.
Instead I applied steady pressure with both mouth and hand until the pulsing under my tongue stopped and the breathing under my hand slowed. She licked my hand and giggled when I moved it away.
She released her grip on my hair, so I pulled my head back from her hips. I gazed upward, over the soft mounds of her breasts, to see her head askew on the pillow of my bed with her blond hair radiating out like the sun’s rays, her lips parted, her eyes half shut.
I pulled myself up beside her. She immediately turned to kiss me, and I forced myself to keep the pace slow and languorous as she seemed to desire in that moment.
But her hand drifted down to find my cock.
Sparks flew through me, and I shuddered.
“Do you want me?” she whispered.
Closing my eyes against her earnest blue gaze, I nodded.
“Say it, Guillaume,” she insisted, tugging on my cock. Again, sparks. Her touch ignited a fire that burned from my groin up to my spine, and I feared that I would find release in her hand before aught else.
“Yes,” I said hoarsely.
“Then take me.”
I reared up and rolled her onto her stomach, flattening her to the bed with one hand and positioning myself at her entrance with the other.
I had just enough presence of mind to move into her slowly, and when I felt how tight her walls were around my cock, I knew it was the right choice, as much I wanted to fuck in a frenzy until we were both senseless with pleasure.
Her head turned to the side, I could see the drops of sweat beading on her top lip, the tiny prisms in each one. If I regularly let my faerie sight roam her body I doubted I would run out of tiny miracles to behold.
I observed the corners of her mouth tense with penetration, and I forced my pace to stay calm until I saw the small signs of ease return to her skin.
As I moved within her, I saw her make fists in the bedding, and the sight of her small hands balled up as though to fight unleashed something in me.
I thrust with less and less restraint, reveling in the satisfying sound of my hips slapping against hers.
I withdrew almost all my length and plunged into her wet folds, again and again.
Pleasure prickled at the base of my cock, and I reared my head back, panting.
She reached behind to grab at me, for me. I paused where I was, halfway inside her.
“What do you want?” I gasped, straining at the discipline it took to stay still.
“You…but, me on top.” If it was difficult for me to make words, it sounded ten times moreso for her. So I withdrew fully, feeling the pangs of cold air on my cock that was so, so soaked with her desire.
It took a moment for her to heave herself up and roll aside. I noted with pleasure the pink flush all across her chest, disrupted by deeper red marks from tooth and stubble. I flung myself to my back, trying to stay still for all that I yearned to find release as immediately as possible.
She lowered herself onto me, and I all but exclaimed in pleasure.
Enveloping me completely, she rode me, and I began to feel the waves of climax creeping up on me. I had held it off for so long, held off any semblance of pleasure in my life. I began to tremble.
With a frustrated grunt she leaned forward, planting her hands on my chest, and began hauling herself up and down on my cock with renewed determination.
I realized that she was grinding the front of her pelvis on me, seeking her own release once more.
I had been holding my hands rigidly at my side, attempting to maintain some semblance of control over myself, but with this new knowledge, I decided to take a different track.
I reached one hand up to grab at her nipple, tweaking it and pinching it, hoping the sensation would help bring her to the edge. At the same time, I used my other hand to grab her ass and apply pressure, aiding in her grinding motions.
All the while, she rode my cock, and I could feel her walls beginning to pulse around me.
That was too much, and I let loose with a hoarse shout that emptied my breath and my cock at the same time.
The powerful throbbing emanating from my member flooded my entire body with gratification, though I took care not to loosen my grip on either part of her body as she made a small breathy noise, continuing to rock and ride.
Moments later, I felt her walls flutter around my cock, buffeting my still hard member with yet more sensation. I had no doubt that given some time to rest I could go again, and perhaps even stay lodged inside her, growing harder by the moment, as I filled her with seed and desire.
That thought made me pause—but then I remembered Aubert and his tinctures. It would be fine; I would not burden her in that way.
She collapsed atop me, and I disobeyed every impulse that said to create distance, by stroking her hair and kissing her forehead.
As much as I burned to do this again, I knew it was irresponsible of me at best.
At worst? She would release me from my oath. And that terrified me, when so little else had the capacity to frighten me after what I had seen…and done.