Chapter Seven #4
“It is a good thing you are not a member of the staff, for I would get no work done,” he said as he situated himself on several fat pillows. “I would sit at my desk watching you dust the floors like a lovesick peahen.”
“Do you not think yourself the peacock?” I asked, using my fingers to break off a small cube of cake to feed him. His brows rose as the bite got closer. “Open.”
“I think of the two of us, you are the peacock.” He opened his mouth.
I chuckled and pushed the bite into it. His lips sealed around my fingers for a moment.
Easing them out, I watched him chew before I took a fingerful.
The icing was so sweet it made my head ache, but it was so sinful, I knew I would need more even if it were bad for me.
Much like this man looking for more cake.
“I cannot argue that I am rather flashy, loud, and prone to shaking my colorful arse to attract mates.” I fed him another bite, then myself, and then him.
A bit of cake tumbled to his belly. Icing clung to my fingers, which I let him lick clean.
The final bite was shared. After he ran his finger through the icing on the plate, he rubbed the frosting over my left nipple. Then the right.
“Lean up, I would like to lick those dark nubs of yours clean.” I did so without hesitation, the touch of his tongue on my nipples making my cock hard instantly.
I groaned as he moved from one tight tip to the other.
I felt his prick growing fatter as he toyed with my sensitive nipples for so long my balls drew up in warning.
“You enjoy this.” He gave one a pluck that pulled a yelp from me.
“I do, so much that you have me near the edge again,” I confessed.
“Then ride over the edge on my cock,” he said, his dark eyes hot with want.
“I’ve not given my arse to a man since I was a whelpling,” I admitted and began rocking back and forth over his prick. I’d had a careless lover that first time, but here, in this bed with this man, I felt I could trust him. “But I would find riding you to the moons a lovely ride indeed.”
The cake dish was placed on the bed. With a smirk that I hoped overrode my trepidation, I plucked the oil from the puddle it lay in by the pillows.
The washerwomen would not be pleased come the morn.
With adept fingers, he took it from me, coated his cock, and reached under me to work his fingers into my hole.
I let my head fall forward, hair tumbling over my shoulders to tickle his face and chest as he opened me up with touch and words.
“You are a beautiful man. Free-spirited, confident, richly endowed with wit. I could lie here until the stars blinked out of existence, admiring your fair face,” he whispered while stretching me for his possession.
My cock leaked over his stomach. “I want you now,” I confided, our gazes locking.
He withdrew his fingers, eyes on mine, as I moved up and sat down on his prick.
Fukkate, the burn was as I remembered. He stroked my sides, my arms, my face, and my hair as I worked to take all of him.
His prick was not enormous, but it was not unsubstantial either.
It felt like a draft horse and not the cock of an elf.
I stalled several times. My breath ragged as I finally got him fully seated.
Unable to catch my breath, I rested my brow to his.
“It’s like sitting on a bowling pin,” I choked out as he rubbed his hands over my back. That made him snort with amusement. “Don’t ask how I know that.”
Le’ral laughed just before he drew in a hard breath as I sat up, whipping my hair back from my face, to stare at the canopy as I began to ease myself up and down.
Fingers gripping his thighs right above his knees, I found myself opening for him, his possession easing from pain to a dull burn.
He dug his heels into the mattress as the speed increased, my cock slapping my belly then his as I bounced up and down like a rag doll tied to a stallion.
I would feel this coupling for days. Yet even knowing that I rode him harder, yelping each time his fat cockhead speared that wondrous knot of nerves.
Over and over, harder, deeper. Then he came, his spend a hot wash inside me that sent me careening past the moon sisters to touch the constellations.
When the tremors subsided, I fell over him, gasping for wind, my nose in his throat. He inhaled tenderly, blowing out his breath.
“Your hair is an ebony mask,” he whispered, caressing my flank as I fought to regain myself.
I’d not come apart that hard in…I truly couldn’t recall.
Nor had many males had the privilege of taking my arse.
What was it about this beautiful elven man that weakened me so? “It smells of cake and spunk.”
That made me snicker between rasping inhalations. I moved gingerly, pushing up to sit, his prick softening inside me. Tossing my hair aside, my eyes roamed over him as he looked quite pleased with himself. He should be.
“You fucked me magnificently,” I admitted, ran a hand down his chest, and eased off his cock to fall face first into the bedding. The very slippery, crumby, spunky bedding.
“I did my best. It came naturally to me, much like swimming in the sea.”
“Mm, you caused waves in me,” I joked. He gave my backside a playful pat.
“My bed and I are filthy. I should rise to wash up, but I lack the strength to lift my hand. Other than to enjoy the firmness of your rump.”
I rolled my head to the side, found the pitcher of water on the stand, and managed to lift my hand enough to weave a spell in the air.
Blue runes flashed to life. With a flick of my wrist, the water in the urn flew across the room, splashing down on me and Le’ral.
He yelped at the cold splash and flew from the bed as I lay there, soaked, cold, but stupidly pleased with the dousing of a grand advisor.
Not every pirate could brag that they had fucked a noble elf and then dumped water over his head. And cockhead.
He sputtered a bit as he stalked around the bed, coming to stand beside me.
I peeked through a hank of my wet hair. By the witches tits, he was even more stunning when wet.
How unfair it was to be so good-looking.
He gave my backside a hearty pinch. It was my turn to squeal and flail, but I did so on the bed as he made his way to the urn to find it empty.
“If I were not suitably impressed with your aquatic magicks mastery, I would be quite put out. I shall have to ring for a servant now to clean up enough for bed.” He turned to scowl at me. Sighing, I flopped onto my back.
“You’ll need more than an urn of water before you retire. Your bedding and the mattress, I suspect, will need to be changed. But you are rinsed. You may thank me for that.” I sat up, threw my wet hair over my shoulder, and got a hearty laugh from the advisor.
“You are a danger, Captain Cadere.”
“Ah, I am no danger to anyone. I’m merely a merchant who enjoys a good roll in the hay—or a soggy bed.” I patted the puddle on the mattress, making a small splash.
“You could be a very large danger,” he mumbled as he turned to return the pitcher to the table.
Bending over to find his robe on the floor, I got a good look at his balls and arse.
My cock twitched pathetically. Odd. Most times, a good romp clears the lust, but it seems my prick wanted more.
It would not get more, though. One done and out the door, as the whores like to say.
Swinging my legs from the soggy bed, I rose, stretched, and winced at the pull in my tender backside.
He turned, robe in hand, as I found my trousers.
Stepping into them, I searched for something to say aside from my usual, “Nice arse. Loved it. See you the next time we drop anchor.” This man required more from me. That upset me.
“I must return to my room. Hyla is sitting with Prescott,” I said as I tied my breeches.
“Ah, yes, of course. May I ask?” I glanced up from securing my trousers. “How did a troll come to be named Prescott?” He slid his arms into the sleeves of his robe, covering all that fine flesh I had just touched, licked, and covered with my spend.
“My father found him on the streets of Quinn’s Quay outside of Prescott’s Manufactory of Fine Woven Goods and Disposable Pipes. Lucky for me that my mother named me, or I could have been known as Apothecary Cadere.”
His smile was kind but lacking any real humor. As I pulled on my boots, I found that the cheerfulness I usually felt after a good banging was lacking as well.
“Thank you,” I blurted as he padded out into his office in front of me, his sight flying to the patio where a half dozen ravens sat on his rail looking rather disgruntled about not being in the rookery, I supposed.
He paused by the door to his room and then turned to look at me.
He might have tumbled out of a flophouse, he was that rumpled.
The love mark I’d put on him was vibrant.
I liked seeing that there. I wanted to place more on him.
All over his body so that every time he touched it, he thought of me.
What? What was I thinking? “I’ve not had that good of a tumble in many seasons. I’ll carry the memory of it with me.”
“As will I,” he replied, the reserved advisor now back in full control. “I hope that we…” He bit that comment back. “I hope that wherever you end up in life, it is a happy place.”
“Aye, the same for you.” I knew he would not wish me to kiss him. Nor should I wish it, but by the sea hag’s floppy jugs, I badly wanted to. Just once. A goodbye kiss. Something tender that spoke of how much this night had meant to—“Well, the hour is late. Until we meet again, Grand Advisor.”
“Captain.”
I offered him my hand. He took it, squeezed it, and then released it as he opened the door with his other hand.
I eased out into the corridor, my hair a rat’s nest, my clothes damp, and my skin crusty with seed.
Not an unusual state for me. Staring down the hall, I saw no one.
I spun to ask Le’ral if he could direct me to my room, but his door was closed.
“Fukkate,” I whispered to the night.