Page 142 of Heimlock

After one long, sensual kiss, Trinte sits up, still inside me. To encourage the unleashing I’ve been aching to witness, I growl, “Make me yours, Trinte. Erase everyone else.”

Eyes flaring from the challenge, his big hands lift my hips, allowing him to piston straight into my pussy. His focus on our joining twists his expression into something greedy; animalistic. Chasing the orgasm, I bring fingers to my clit, moving them in a way that makes my eyes roll back. It encourages him to pound into me harder, grunting with each debilitating thrust.

“Cum for me, Firefly,” he demands through gritted teeth. The urge to please him is overwhelming.

My breaths shift to gasps as the tension builds. Trinte is fucking me so hard, all I can do is let him handle my body the way he needs. When my eyes open, I moan at the way he watches my face. I’ve never seen an expression holding both lust and love, but the way he stares down at me peels apart the remaining amount of control.

I let out a roaring scream as the orgasm rips apart my reality.

“So fucking good,” he snarls, rutting so hard, I know I’ll be sore later. With one final, punishing slam into my body, he releases a guttural groan, not unlike a beast reaching completion.

I instantly need more of him.

We hold each other's gaze, trying to catch our breaths. Sweat dapples his body, dripping from his chin. Trinte looks me over. “You alright?”

“I’ve never been more alright in my life,” I joke, but it’s the complete truth.

He flashes a satisfied smile. With a small grimace of regret, he lowers my hips, separating our bodies. The need for an immediate round two increases. Trinte stares down at my pussy, mesmerized.

“I really fucking like that,” he rumbles.

Sitting up, I try to see what he’s seeing. “Like what?”

“My cum dripping out of your wet pussy,” he says, matter-of-factly. His expression lights up. “Can I do that every day?”

I laugh. “I mean, if you want to.”

“I absolutely do,” he growls, trying to shove back in whatever is coming out.

I giggle and shake my hips. “I’m ready for more whenever you are.”

Trinte looks down at his cock; I’m shocked to see it already perking up. Cocking his head, he asks, “Do you need anything? Water? Bathroom? Food?” I shake my head. He smirks, stroking himself. “Hold on, Firefly. I have a point to prove.”

56

It’s deep into the night by the time we come up for air. Sex with Kyrielle is absolutely transcendent. Nothing I could’ve imagined or hoped for. Every person I’ve ever slept with pales in comparison.

Leaving her to catch her breath in the bed, I go to grab us two bottles of water. My mind is reeling from all the changes these past few weeks. I’ve never felt happier or lighter. Kyrielle might be allowed to do some surprises because the Lyriquoi was exactly what I needed.

When I return, she’s wrapped in blankets, her hair an absolute mess with a swollen mouth. She grins, taking the offered water. “Hydration is a vital part of sex fests.”

Sitting beside her, I open my bottle. “Is that what this is? A sex fest?”

She motions to us, the messy bed, and the air. “All the trappings of a sex fest.”

“So does that mean we need a round five?” I ask, grinning at the prospect.

“Duh,” she says, chuckling.

We both sip our water, lost in our thoughts for a moment. It’s a quiet, companionable silence; we’ve earned it. We’ve grown leaps and bounds since she stormed in here all those weeks — months? — ago.

Kyrielle turns toward me. “I’d like to ask one of my questions.”

I roll my eyes. “One day, some day soon, I’d love for us to know everything about one another so I never have to do this again.”

She gives me a look of disbelief. “You think I’ll never have questions again?”

“I’d rather the questions be more along the lines of, ‘Hey, Trinte, do you want to do anal tonight?’”