Chapter Twenty #2
One shove, and my pants are down. He drops to his knees, and his mouth finds my dripping core, dragging a strangled curse from my lips between panting breaths. The rapidly fading, rational part of my brain catalogs one last, glorious difference between us—that fucking tongue.
Even with my legs tangled in my pants, he manages one impossibly long lick, tracing from the seam of my ass to my aching clit, sending a full-body shudder through me.
My thighs tremble as he presses the firm base of his tongue against my sensitive flesh while the wicked, flexible tip works its way inside, curling and teasing. Filling me with pulsing heat.
A choked moan rips from me, my need spilling down my thighs as the realization slams into me—this is something no human man could ever do. This is something Ben never even wanted to do.
Not that I’m thinking about him now. Not when my body is wound so impossibly tight, my pleasure shimmering just out of reach. I try to shift, to throw my legs over his shoulders and ride his face properly, but my trapped ankles keep me from moving the way I need.
I let out a groan of frustration.
His response? A sharp nip to the soft flesh of my inner thigh. A warning. A promise.
I yelp in response, but he looks up at me, face shining with my arousal, and says, “What do you need, Sruhnar?”
I repeat the name back to him, tasting it on my tongue. “Sruhnar?”
The word hums between us, carrying something I don’t yet understand but somehow it feels—right.
He chuckles against me as he gently corrects my pronunciation, rolling the R softly. He translates, “Sruhnar—my Winter Star.”
I hold his face in my hands, staring down into his eyes, which reflect the night sky above us. I marvel at their beauty and feel pride overflowing my heart that he would compare me to the heavens above.
I say, “And what do I call you?”
He looks away for a poignant beat, hesitation flickering across his face. Then, as if making a decision, he meets my eyes again, almost shyly, and whispers, “Eryon.”
This time, I take care to pronounce his words the same way. “Air-ee-on.”
I let the name settle on my tongue, the syllables feeling ancient, powerful—fitting for the creature before me, the one who saved me. The one who is becoming mine. His name settles into my soul like a shadow of my own.
At the sound of his name on my lips he takes my mouth in what starts as a soft, sweet kiss. Gentle. Warm. As his hands sweep over my body I can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since he has heard his own name.
The loneliness and longing for a kindred spirit resonates within my soul and pours out through my kiss.
The simmering intensity shifts until it boils over, raw and unchecked.
Until I’m kicking frantically at my pants, twisting, and squirming to free myself.
But the fabric stays stubbornly tangled over my boots.
Eryon huffs a quiet laugh at my struggle, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker. Before I can protest, he grips me with ease, hoisting me up as if I weigh nothing.
The flannel slips down, and I gasp as my shoulders scrape against the cold stone, a sharp contrast to the feverish heat of my skin. But the gasp melts into a moan as he loops my legs behind his head, settling my weight over his broad shoulders.
I barely have time to process the sheer strength in him, the effortless way he holds me, before his mouth is on me. And then I stop thinking altogether.
His lips, his tongue, his teeth—he devours me like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s been starving for this. For me. I arch against him, crying out as he drinks me down, tracing every fold, every trembling inch, as if it was always his.
I bury my fingers in his hair, clutching tight as he wrings moans from my lips like confessions—raw, unfiltered, undeniable.
But as the pleasure builds, cresting like a wave too powerful to fight, my grip loosens.
I fling my arms wide—part surrender, part exhilaration—offering myself to the moment, to him.
The precarious height beneath me adds a delicious edge of fear, a razor-sharp contrast to the pleasure overwhelming me—a heady, intoxicating thrill, like gasoline meeting fire. Besides, I know he won’t drop me. I trust him.
When his tongue spears into my entrance, thick and impossibly deep, I cry out, the sound echoing off the stone around us, multiplying, surrounding me. The wildness of it, the raw hunger, makes me feel untamed, unbound.
I am here, beneath the open sky, surrounded by the pulse of the earth itself—while the guardian of the forest feasts on me like I am the only offering that matters. The realization crashes into me, surging through my body as my climax rolls deep and unrelenting, pulled from the very core of me.
My thighs shake and toes curl as I ride wave after wave.
When I feel too sensitive, unable to take anymore, I bury my hands deep into his hair and try to wrench his face away from me.
I’m met with a fearsome growl and may as well have tried to push away the stone behind me, as unyielding as Eryon is.
With wide eyes I look down to where he continues to lap at my pussy. The sight of his tongue disappearing inside of me is so erotic and wickedly taboo I can’t help but stare down at him. I thought I was done but already pleasure is building again, a swirling vortex pulling me in.
Another gush of arousal has his mouth falling open on a groan and the sight of his sharp teeth grazing my skin as he devours me has me arching closer, lost to his hunger, grinding my hips harder into his face as he returns to consuming me like a starved creature.
With his large, calloused hands he shifts his hold to my thighs and spreads me open even further. Meeting my eyes he uses his long tongue to snake back to my ass, the probing lighting up erotic nerves I didn’t know existed.
When his tongue breaches me, I can’t help the squeal that escapes my lips. I know it should be in shock, in reproach, but instead it turns into a deep moan as pleasure blooms within me. My pussy clenches at the emptiness, aching to be filled.
He buries his nose into my entrance, face flush with my body so my clit can grind into his forehead. The motion allows his tongue to slip further into my ass. I am so consumed with pure animalistic lust, I would have ground my flesh into the mountain itself at this point and not given a damn.
The sensations pulse and swirl, an unfamiliar molten pressure building deep inside me until it feels as though the very mountain he holds me against might erupt.
I pant out raggedly, “Eryon, please.”
At the sound of his name, he thrusts his tongue deeper and groans against me, the vibrations echoing into my center and reverberating through my core.
The mountain does not break, but I do. The pressure peaks and releases in a blinding rush, and I scream at the intensity, shocked at the eruption that completely drenches his face.
“I—I’m so sorry,” I stammer out, mortified that not only did I just squirt for the first time ever, but I did it directly into his face. His. Face.
Eryon pulls back to look at me. But instead of the disgust I expect to see written there, he tips his head back and groans a deep guttural sound. He lets my body slide down the rock face, so I am pinned between him and the mountain, legs still tangled in my pants looped around his body.
Meeting my eyes, he flashes me a wicked smile, more teeth than lips, and says slowly, “You marked me.”