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Is this the future he is seeing, or a general comment? I can never tell with Zaroun. I decide it doesn’t matter, because if Apple is in my life for a long time, I think that would be a good thing. I’ve never had a pet, and though the spider is unconventional, his sweet nature and playfulness makes me laugh. “So far he has been, yes.” I move to his side and touch his arm, my instinct to please him rising. “What can I assist you with, my lord? I am here to serve.”
Zaroun reaches up and brushes his fingers over my jaw, then dips his head toward mine. His lips whisper over my mouth, sending a prickle of hunger through my body. “It has been too long since I tasted you.”
A curl of delight unfurls in my belly. “It has been less than a day, Zaroun.”
“Far too long,” he agrees. “My mouth is parched and only your taste will slake my thirst.” He kisses me again, this time lingering. Zaroun doesn’t kiss with the desperate need of Ossev or the intense conquest of Neska. His kisses are always light and fluttery, a tease and a promise more than ownership. I like all the kisses for their uniqueness, but Zaroun’s kisses make me feel treasured. Special.
I’m breathless as he kisses my upper lip and then begins to press his mouth along my jaw. My arm curls around his neck and I hold him close as his mouth tickles my earlobe. “Where do you want me, my lord? On the bed?”
“I want you open to my mouth. I want you hot and wet and clenching around my tongue. I do not care where.” And he nips my ear.
Shivering with arousal, I tug him towards my bed. I’ve noticed that Ossev and Neska will take their turns with me anywhere and everywhere—in the hall, in the kitchen, against a wall, bent over my bathtub—but Zaroun always asks where I prefer. He’s definitely the sweetest and most thoughtful of the three. I sit on the edge of the bed and he kisses down my throat, his hands moving to my breasts. They’re trapped in the tight boning of my corset, but he plumps them with his hands, pressing against the sides of my gown before kissing the rounded mound of each one. Then he moves lower, to where my thick petticoats cover my legs.
Before I can reach down, he flips them up and then sighs with satisfaction when he breathes in my scent. “I do like the smell of you, my lovely anchor. You always smell mouth-watering.”
“Do I?” I ask, breathless.
“Today you smell like outdoors, too.” He leans in and inhales deeply between my thighs, and I squirm. I try not to find anything unusual with what they do in bed, reminding myself that they are gods and perhaps gods are into different things than most mortal men. Things like flipping a woman’s skirts up and just drinking in her scent and doing nothing else for long, shiver-inducing moments. He nuzzles my mound and drags his open mouth over the insides of my thighs, making sounds of satisfaction as he does. “So sweet.”
I try to stay still, even though I want to squirm and lift my hips up against his mouth. “I should take my shoes off. I was wearing them in the garden…”
“Lovely, lush garden,” he agrees.
Oh…is it lovely and lush in the future? Then things do grow here?
“But I am not interested in your shoes,” Zaroun continues. “Just your cunt.”
And then he licks me.
I gasp, the breath shuddering out of me at the feel of his hot, slick mouth on my sensitive skin. Instinctively, my hands go to his head and I hold him in place as he licks between the cradle of my thighs, teasing and tasting. His tongue toys with my clit, making me whimper, and his fingers play along my folds. It’s like he’s touching me everywhere, and when his mouth goes from light and playful to intense and focused, my orgasm builds. I’m moaning and clutching him as he works my pussy, driving me relentlessly toward climax.
When I come, it’s with shattering intensity. I cry out as I come, utterly wrecked. Satiated, panting, I flop back against the blankets to catch my breath. “Oh, my. That was lovely.”
“Not done,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing one of my now-sensitive folds. “I need more.”
I whimper, but I’m helpless to obey. I know how this works with them. They fixate on pleasuring me (though I suspect they get a great deal of satisfaction with it, too) and I might be held down for at least five or six orgasms before Zaroun is done with me.
My legs twitch at the thought, and then Zaroun taps my thigh. “You are moving too much.”
“Sensitive,” I pant, trying to be still and failing. “Very sensitive.”
“You should sit on my face again,” he says. “I liked that very much.”
I go still. “Again…?”
“Have we not done that yet?” He presses kisses to my pussy, sending quivers through my body. “I have seen it quite clearly.” Zaroun pauses, and then drags his tongue slowly and achingly over my clit, causing me to emit the most needy mewling sound ever. “Mmm, yes, I have definitely heard that before. Come. I want more sounds from you and less thrashing.”
Am I thrashing too much? I whimper, but when he gets on the bed, adjusting his blindfold and then reaching for me, I’m helpless to protest. Part of me is exhausted, but a larger part of me wants to sit on his pink, flushed mouth and his pale, aquiline nose. Part of me wants to bear down on his perfect face and grind against him and if that’s not the most delicious mental image, I don’t know what is.
Gathering my skirts, I straddle his face with trembling thighs, and he pulls me down against his mouth. His tongue seeks out the entrance to my body and then he’s pushing into me with wet, lapping thrusts. I moan, clutching at the headboard of the bed, and throw my head back. I’m riding a god’s face…at his bequest. And something tells me that from the pleased noises he’s making, he’s not going to let me up anytime soon.
This new position has me facing the door to my room, though, and when my eyes flutter open, I realize someone is standing in the doorway.
It’s Neska, watching me ride Zaroun’s face.
I gasp, startled. My pussy clenches as Zaroun thrusts his tongue deep again, his groan one of delight. I stare at Neska, wondering how my possessive Spidae will take the sight of me being tongued by one of the other Aspects. His eyes narrow as he watches me, and when I can’t help but grind down against Zaroun’s face, a hint of a flush moves over his pale cheeks.
He’s not saying anything.
