“You’re one to talk, making up that weird story about me being injured! I wouldn’t think the famous commander of the Grey Guard would fold under pressure.”
I grabbed his hips in both hands and thrust up into him, which shut him up. He braced himself on the pommel of my saddle and did something sensual and delicious with his hips, his tight passage rocking against my cock with the most tempting rhythm.
What followed was an exercise in discipline.
Mine, not his. Pip had no discipline, and didn’t seem to comprehend the concept of delayed gratification. But I had decades of military training and an iron will and a deep, newly discovered appreciation for watching Pip beg for my cum.
I kept Bram at a walk. The slow, steady rhythm wasn’t enough to build toward anything—a gentle rocking that kept Pip full and stimulated but miles from the edge. I used my hands on him. His thighs. His stomach. The line of his hip. I traced the edges of the torn seam, brushing the soft skin of his inner thigh, up under his drawers, to his cock, and when he tried to rock against me more sliding his clenching hole up and down my length, I held his hips still.
“Aeldryc,” he whispered.
“Mm.”
“Please.”
“We have a long ride ahead.”
“How long?”
“Several hours. We might as well enjoy ourselves for most of it, don’t you think?”
He made a sound of such exquisite suffering that I nearly relented. But I was enjoying the constant hum of pleasure in my veins, the sensation of being joined to him, inside him.
I kissed the back of his neck. He shuddered.
“Don’t you want to come, too?” he whined, fighting to bounce faster.
“I do, but you feel good, tight and warm. You are right where you belong, so I do not mind waiting a while.”
“You are the worst person in this realm or any other,” he said, his voice cracked and wrecked. “You are a monster. You are a seven-foot sadist on a horse. I need to come, baby, please.”
“I love it when you call me baby,” I said, rewarding him with a harder thrust.
“I love it when you call me sweetheart.”
“I do not call you sweetheart,” I said, though a flicker of doubt cooled the certainty in my voice. “That would be ridiculous.” He just laughed, a wrecked, raw sound.
“You do,” he insisted. “And you look at me like I’m adorable.”
“I look at you like you’re a collection of holes I want to fuck.”
“Both can be true.” He braced himself on the saddle and started to bounce again, his dancer’s body moving with a sinuous grace I didn’t know was possible, milking my cock with his oiled sheath, until I groaned, and sunk my teeth into his shoulder with the effort of holding back my orgasm.
“Mm, you want to come in me, don’t you, baby?”
The road wound through the hills; I reached for his cock, my strokes slow, teasing him the way he was teasing me.
He begged. He bargained. He threatened to crochet me an ugly sweater. He leaned forward, braced his hands in Bram’s mane and fucked himself on my cock for a good five minutes before I forced him to stop.
“Just let me stay inside you for a minute, sweetheart,” I whispered, and this time, the nickname was intentional. I kicked Bram into a canter, the smooth motion of the faster stride driving my cock in deep. The fight went out of him, and he braced his hands on the pommel and shoved himself against me, letting me have complete control.
“You feel so good,” he whimpered as I stroked his cock with my free hand, feeling a little more desperate now that he’d given in.
“Going to come deep inside you, sweetheart.” This time, it was intentional, and he shuddered.
“Oh god. I’m close. Oh fuck.” I gave his cock one last squeeze and he shattered.
He shattered. Bram slowed, ears back, checking on us as Pip shook apart in my lap. My hand was on him, my cock deep inside, and his inner walls fluttered around me. I grabbed his hips, driving him down in a few hard thrusts. His muscles clenched, clamping down with such force that I clutched him close and spilled deep inside him, holding him like he was the only fixed point in a spinning world.
