Chapter 29 #2
Amelia’s jasmine scent and the distant sea seemed to fill Bryn’s awareness, and she indulgently took deep breaths as if she could drink it all in.
She leaned in closer, brushed her cheek against Amelia’s, and whispered, “But we are going to have sex, right? Because the blanket, the pillows, the hotness.”
Amelia laughed. “Yes, you oaf, get the pillows. I’ve set something up. Come on.”
It had never occurred to Bryn to think about how large the broomstick monument at the top of the castle actually was, but now she could see up close just how big it was.
“How did they do this?” she asked, staring up.
“I don’t know, but the magical infusion is really strong,” Amelia said, passing her hand along the surface of one of the broomsticks. “It makes you tingle, like … I don’t know, static electricity.”
“Power poles,” Bryn suggested. “If you stand in the right place, and they kind of buzz the air around you.”
“Yes, like that, but magic. Anyway, given all that, I thought it might be an interesting place to …”
“Fuck?” Bryn suggested.
“Heck yes,” Amelia said, smiling. “Yes, I thought it would be an interesting place to fuck. Fuck me, Bryn Delmar.” She spread the blanket out just under where the two statue broomsticks met, the inverted V of their crossing.
Bryn set the pillows down as well, then drew Amelia to her. “Are you sure no one can see us up here?”
“Yes. Though I don’t think I want to be bound to one of the broomsticks, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Well, that hadn’t occurred to me, but now that it has, we should definitely figure out a way to try it. But no, I just want to see my … er …”
“Girlfriend,” Amelia said firmly.
“My girlfriend.” Bryn kissed her. “My lover.”
“Oh yes. Yes.”
Bryn loved to undress Amelia, but she also loved this moment, when Amelia undressed on her own and exposed every part of herself just for Bryn.
She lay back on the blanket, and waved a hand upward until the broomsticks were illuminated as if glowing from within, a warm pink light that bathed both of them.
Satisfied, she lifted her arms over her head and said, “What do you think?”
Bryn fell upon her—passion, love, a certain amount of sexual desperation, and also something else, something she had never attained with any lover before: a sense of assurance.
She could do whatever she liked; Amelia could do whatever she liked as well.
They could occupy this space together and take each other to new places, explore new ideas, new worlds, new positions, whatever their imaginations could conceive.
Arousal stirred in Bryn’s blood, but all she did for a very long time was kiss Amelia—her lips, her cheeks, over each eye, down her throat.
She used lips and tongue and teeth, listening for the sounds of Amelia’s breath catching.
Whatever magic lay on the broomsticks, on the roof, it held them in place.
Everything on the other side of it was less distinct, less real—the only thing in the world was the two of them.
Bryn was still dressed and remained that way until Amelia’s hands descended on her buttons, where they paused as Amelia looked up at her.
“Yes,” Bryn said. So Amelia unbuttoned her; together they managed to get rid of the rest of Bryn’s clothes.
And this time it was Amelia who guided her down, who laid her out; Amelia, whose lips traced paths everywhere on her body, whose teeth tugging at a nipple gently, far more gently than Bryn had done.
It did not take force or effort to provide intense sensation in that moment.
Bryn’s back arched off the blanket and she mewled.
One of Amelia’s hands strayed downward, pressing Bryn open, finding her clit, only teasing it as she teased Bryn’s nipple with her lips.
“Come on,” Bryn said, opening her legs wider in the hopes of inviting those playful fingers to do more than play.
“Hmm?” Amelia asked innocently. “What was that you said?”
“Amelia,” Bryn growled.
“This is such a fun game.” Amelia had the audacity to lay her head down over Bryn’s bare torso, as if watching her own fingers toy with Bryn’s body, dancing across her belly and thighs, before finally sliding inside her. “Here?” Amelia asked.
“Faster, harder … something. Gods, why are you doing this to me?” Bryn heard the utter demolishment in her own voice and giggled, feeling absurd and needy and like if Amelia did not do something very soon, she would fall apart.
“I really don’t understand why you decided now was a good time to tor—” But before she could plead about being tortured, Amelia slid three fingers inside and Bryn gasped. “More,” she whispered.
“Greedy,” Amelia said, using her fingers slowly, deeply, spreading them, making Bryn gasp.
“When did you become a sadist?” Bryn demanded.
“I’m not. I’m giving you what you need. Aren’t I, Professor?”
Bryn, caught between laughter and edging closer towards orgasm, managed a rough, “Please, Headmistress.” She could see the flush on Amelia’s face as their eyes met.
After a moment, fingers still slow, still torturous, Amelia murmured, “Wow, that really does it for me. I’m not okay with this, necessarily, but say it again, please.”
“Can I come, Headmistress?” Bryn asked, and though she tried to sound sweet, she only managed a sort of helpless pleading.
Amelia’s movements sped up. She lowered her face to gently suck Bryn’s clit, and Bryn felt herself begin to tip over the edge.
It was too much. It was not enough. It was everything, all at once.
She teetered there, bucking up against Amelia, and then finally, Amelia did the thing she needed.
Strokes in and out, faster and faster, her lips applying suction, her tongue lapping, and Bryn cried out, her entire body going rigid with pleasure as she climaxed, and climaxed, and held the peak for longer than she even knew was possible, before finally coming down and pulling Amelia over her.
The bespelled broomsticks towered over them, casting the world in shades of pink and gray.
They lay together side by side. Bryn pulled one of Amelia’s legs over her hip so she could idly explore Amelia’s slick cunt with her fingers, drawing out her pleasure far more torturously than she had drawn out Bryn’s—even pulling away for seconds, whole seconds, coaxing Amelia slowly towards begging.
It was a struggle. Bryn couldn’t help smiling as Amelia bit her lip, determined to be strong, to resist. Tension lined her face and the occasional gasp slipped from her lips.
Bryn would touch, slip, roll, and Amelia would look at her with all the trust in the world, until finally her resolve broke.
Her fingers dug into the back of Bryn’s neck as she dragged Bryn in for a kiss, whispering, “Please, please.”
And that was all it took. Amelia didn’t like it as hard and deep as Bryn did.
What Amelia liked was wide and open. Bryn rolled her gently onto her back and pressed her legs apart, using both of her hands to expose Amelia’s clit (which she knew Amelia found hot as hell, vulnerable and terribly arousing), and then went at it until she screamed.
It was glorious, beautiful, and the rush of power, of making someone else feel this good, this abandoned, was everything. Bryn’s own body pulsed with the rush of Amelia’s orgasm, and if she hadn’t been so exhausted, she might have gone again.
Instead, she nuzzled into Amelia’s neck and pulled the end of the blanket over both of them so they could lie together and stare up at the stars beyond the broomsticks.
“This is our secret,” Bryn said softly. “This place.”
“I agree, but …” Amelia hesitated. “Is it weird that I’m glad people know about us? I mean, they must—the kids told us to kiss.”
“I’m glad too. There are secrets that make things better, and then there are secrets that don’t. If we had to pretend to everyone we know that we weren’t together, I think that would be hard.”
“Plus,” Amelia added, “I want everyone to know I’m fucking the famous author, Bryn Delmar.”
Bryn laughed. “And I’m fucking the headmistress, which is hot. Hotter, I would argue, if in a different way.”
“I guess we’re both having sex with someone we admire.”
“Damn right.” Bryn kissed Amelia under the broomsticks, the stars, the moon, in a bubble of magic and spellfire—something she would be happy to do for the rest of her life.