Page 36 of Summer

I’ve never heard her giggle, much less laugh. It’s even better than hearing her moan.

I kiss her other thigh, moving higher as I do. Her legs fall wider, and I sight my target at last. I fully intended to return the favor the other night if she hadn’t run away from me. Now there’s nowhere to run.

My kisses get closer and closer to her waiting pussy, my lips brushing hers. She shivers under my touch, and I move slowly, carefully. First a kiss, then my tongue sliding from the bottom to the top of her, swirling around her clit slowly. Once my tongue lingers there, she grabs me, her hand buried in my hair, disrupting the carefully prepared updo.

I lick again, bottom to top, more firmly swirling her clit. The taste of her arousal is heady, full, and I can’t get enough of it. My next lick pushes into her, probing her opening.

Then it’s one finger, and another. Her grip tightens in my hair, and she’s grinding onto my mouth, my fingers. Her small gasps get louder, more frequent, and I know she’s close.

“Summer,” she groans, and my name is a prayer on her lips. Her hips jerk, and she clenches on my fingers. I dive deeper, my lips clamping on her clit as she rides me through her orgasm.

“Oh stars I’m…I’m…” She’s garbled, stammering, crying out for me. Her hips buck, her fingers tearing at my scalp. She finally comes down, and I sit back on my heels, letting her dress fall back to the ground.

Her chest heaves, her cheeks are dark red, her eyes hooded and heavy. The carriage slows and we both realize we’ve made it into Celvae and are minutes from the dress shop.

“You look a mess,” she tells me.

“Perhaps don’t look in the mirror,” I retort. She laughs, and I smile, wiping my face with the back of my hand. She leans forward to grab my chin and bring my face to hers, giving me a long, imploring kiss.

When the carriage stops before Madame Furro’s we topple out of the carriage, suppressing our laughter.

16

GENELLE

Viscountess Kierant has an odd sense of humor.

Industry of Hothin is not a theme, it’s a way to make everyone else look stupid while her family appears clever. The entire Kierant family wears dark purples, with fashionable skirts that ripple like the stalks of grass.

The viscountess has twin daughters to present this season, and this is the first ball in which they shine. The rest of the attendants look like fools, each stretching the limits of their understanding of the theme.

Poliope saunters up to us, waving herself with a fan. She’s laboring under the bulk of her costume – metal upon metal upon metal. Nearby, a young lady drags a plow behind her, which shrieks as it trundles over the marble flooring. Everyone around us winces as she passes.

“Lady Gennelle, Marquess Vestinhoth, Lady Summer,” she greets us all in turn. The duchess is somewhere amongst the mothers, gossiping no doubt. The duke immediately disappeared into the card room with the other gentlemen. That leaves the three of us to pretend to care about the other guests.

“Lady Poliope, you’ve nailed the theme!” Summer greets with a serene smile. She’s rather good at this, and I wonder if it’s a skill she picked up at Protege or one she had before. I’ve not asked her about her past, or her time at Protegre. It would sour the mood when we’re alone, which I want to remain as sweet as possible.

Until she leaves.

“Oh, why – thank you,” Poliope demures, her fan waving even quicker. Beads of sweat trace along her temples. “Your dresses are a delight,” she adds, her gaze wandering along our very simple dresses. Mother had a fit when she saw them, but I wasn’t about to be paraded around in a hunk of metal like Poliope was.

Summer and I settled for Hothin’s less popular trade – glidesales. Summer’s dress was a light pink with purple stitching to look as though she had a saddle across her middle. My dress was a dark grey, with feathers sewn into the hem like the feathers around the hooves of the glidesales. Madame Furro cackled at the idea, having heard from many an upset mama about the sudden theme announcement.

Awkward silence stretches between us until Summer speaks up. “Lady Poliope, are any of your prospects here?”

Poliope brightens visibly, and Summer links arms with her to disappear into the crowd.

“How long until you think we can leave?” Aaoric asks. He decided to ignore the theme all together, wearing one of his usual suits. A few females hover nearby, waiting for him to notice them. Even if Summer weren’t in the picture, my brother wouldn’t pay them a lick of heed. Still, they persist, every season, thinking this will be the time he sways in their direction.

“I’d say four losing card games for Father, or enough dances for Mother to have shown you and your fiancé off to everyone.” My gaze tracks Summer through the crowd as every eye turns to look at her, fascinated at the sight of a human amongst them.

“She’s doing a fine job at showing herself off,” Aaoric says with a sigh. “Hopefully that hastens this outing. If we can secure a carriage together tonight, we can finalize some details of the plan.”

Yes – the plan. It’s been decided that Summer will die via carriage explosion. When Mother declared she was to be married in the drawing room, it posed an obstacle, but Summer thought of a brilliant work around.

“It is human custom for the bride and groom to spend the night before their wedding apart,” Summer said. “I’ll simply get ready in a separate location, then take the carriage to the manor.”

I didn’t ask if it was truly a human custom, or if it were just a cover. Anytime Summer spoke about human customs or Earth, her countenance changed. I don’t feel as though I know Summer enough to press the matter, despite the intimacy we share behind closed doors.