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Finally, finally.
I arch up against him, loop my arms around his neck, kiss him back. His taste floods my senses, his scent and the feel of his taut flesh against mine wreaking havoc with my thoughts.
He pulls back suddenly, groaning, reaching down between us to press on his cock through the leather. “Feels good…”
“Yes,” I agree fervently.
Then his hand presses between my bare legs and I gasp. “Wet…”
“Yes.” I’m so wet for him. I moan when he pushes one finger inside me, strokes deep. “Yes…”
“Fuck,” he breathes and I don’t know if he’s cursing or suggesting we fuck, or just naming the act of what we’re doing or are about to do—and oh my stars, he’s added a second finger, I think, and I’m about to come apart—
With a deep growl, he withdraws his fingers, causing me to cry out, and then scoots back and buries his face between my legs.
Oh, dear Goddess.
I tense as an assault as brutal as his kiss is unleashed. He rubs his bristly cheeks and chin against my wet folds, licks me and stabs into me with his tongue, tortures my nub and sucks on it, until I can’t draw breath.
Until I shatter, moaning loudly as the pressure in me breaks and pleasure washes me away like a flood and I’m drowning in a sea of stars.
Oh…
I blink up at the ceiling of the cave, stunned.
After an endless moment, I find his face over me, his blue eyes amused. “Good?”
“Good,” I whisper, my voice a croak. “So, so good.”
He grins, and oh boy. He’s mouth-wateringly pretty when he grins, his sharp cheekbones flushed. His sky-blue eyes are fringed by long lashes, the now chin-length locks brush his neck, and the broad shoulders magnificently muscled.
I reach for him with a small moan, needing to trace the lines of his face, his lips that are glistening with my wetness, my pleasure. I tug his head down until I can kiss him, taste myself on his mouth, and his lashes lower, a groan rumbling through him.
I don’t know who this girl is, moaning and writhing on the furs in a Wildman’s cave, begging to be fucked. When was it that I served Artume and read her scriptures, bowed to her statue and didn’t touch anyone, ever, not even my own body?
This time when he pulls back, I reach between us, find his cock so hard it’s peeking out from the top of the loincloth. When I touch it, he shudders. His eyes lift to meet mine, dark and dazed with lust.
I tug on his loincloth, freeing more of his hard length, until I can wrap my fingers around it. It’s so thick they can’t close, can’t encircle it fully.
It’s my first time gripping a man’s erection and it’s a heady feeling, both strange and arousing. My belly clenches painfully, but I ignore it, fascinated by the look on Kiaran’s face.
Eyes half-closed, lips parted, a tension in his body making muscles leap out in harsh relief in his chest and arms. He has one hand planted by my head, the other by his side as he half-turns to gaze down where I’m holding him, literally in the palm of my hand, his cock throbbing, swelling more, forcing my fingers to open more.
I squeeze a little, hunting for a reaction, and he thrusts into my hand, a whine leaving his throat. It takes my breath away. He does it again, and again, fluid seeping from the head of his cock, coating my fingers, making my hold slippery. He’s wet, too, I think, wet and hard for me, and my core flutters and pulses.
The next time he does it, he gasps, and I feel his cock jerk a little in my hand. He’s close, I think, he’s as unused to this as I am, he likes it, he wants it, he’s going to come—
With a snarl, he rips my fingers away from his hard-on and takes things into his own hands. I don’t have time to react as he hunches over me, teeth peeled back, brows drawn together.
Grabbing his cock in a big fist and jacking off savagely, violently taking his pleasure, perhaps in the only way he knows.
Then shuddering and pressing his hard cock down between us, his hips rocking as his hard length slides against my belly, then higher, between my breasts, leaving hot smears of his need on my skin.
Finally spilling all over my breasts and belly, sticky ropes of white cum, marking me.
It makes me shudder with pleasure, even if it’s a token marking, temporary, not there to stay. Even if this isn’t the sex I need to curb the heat consuming me little by little. It’s barely enough to ease the pain in my belly, to make me feel languid and limp, legs tangled in the furs, the Wildman’s muscular body starting to weigh down on me as he finishes off and the tension leaves him.
He catches himself on both hands before he smothers me. His eyes are heavy-lidded as he gazes down at me, the blue turned to black in the dimness, and he looks like an old god, a companion to Artume on her hunts, wild and golden, dark and bright, mysterious and yet naïve like a child, and…
