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“Every night,” he rasped.
It was always him. It was always me. It was always us.
Uttering a primal sound, Poet unleashed. As if overcome by our words, he bundled me in his arms and catapulted off the shelf, standing upright in between the stacks. Anchoring me to his torso, he vaulted the straight ledge of his erection through my walls.
I yelped, my body jolting in tune with his waist. My spine arched, and I latched onto his damp nape, my waist gyrating atop him. Poet cupped the back of my scalp, banded one strong arm beneath my rear, and flung his hips.
Blood coursed through my limbs. The ecstasy filled me with vitality, set me aflame, and brought me to urgent life. I cried out in triumph and wonder, unmoored and uncensored.
Poet emitted the same noises, only rougher. The sounds ejecting from his lungs fragmented into the air, heady and harsh.
A tempest of sensation chipped me into fragments, my legs clinging to the jester’s skillful joints, which revolved over and over. The force of his cock unraveled me until my arousal splashed down our thighs.
And when that didn’t suffice, Poet sprang to the opposite case. Crushing me into the edifice, he stapled my wrists overhead and ducked his mouth to my left nipple. I shrieked, the hot tug of his lips mesmerizing. More hollers followed the rest when he switched to the other breast, sucking the tip raw and flexing his tongue over the peak.
All the while, his waist bucked, now with added momentum. The brunt of his cock widened me, my thighs bridging his hips and my ankles linking beneath his ass. He made love so thoroughly, so devotedly, so mercilessly that my scalp prickled, and my toes curled.
My navel abraded his stomach, softness and hardness rubbing together. My helpless moans inundated the library, and his silken growl followed, the sounds inebriating.
He intoxicated me like no one ever could. And he gazed at me as though I’d bewitched him.
Poet devoured my body whole. With a hum, he took my mouth and sucked me into another full-bodied kiss. His tongue flayed mine, the tempo erotic while he powered his cock in and out.
Releasing my wrists, he gripped my backside and fastened me in place, stalling my movements as his waist continued its onslaught. Fixing me to him, the jester jutted his cock, the gradual lash of his flesh creating new friction.
Astride his phallus, I chanted in astonishment and gave into the rhythm. The maneuver enabled me to feel the liquid pump of his erection, from the crown to the sac. Siphoning this way, Poet coaxed more wetness from me, the cleft of my pussy drenching him.
The jester hummed, his timbre skating over my flesh like satin. Alone in this castle, insulated in this dark library, we branded each other. My fingers dashed across his back, my nails scraping his shoulder blades, certain to draw blood. Yet the jester only murmured endearments and ground his cock deeper, harder, higher.
My hands landed on his ass. I clutched the divots, feeling the contours flexing, working into me. I squeezed my pussy around him and packed his buttocks in my hands, spurring him farther, faster.
There. There.There.
My touch begged for more. My cries pleaded for his cock to lodge itself entirely, to pull every drop of arousal from my body, to fill my lungs with shouts.
Poet cursed under his breath, his tone fervent and possessive. He sprang forth, accelerating his cock and spearing me with quick, shallow jabs.
I bowed into the shelves and yelled into the candlelit library. All the while, the jester worshiped me like an otherworldly shadow, like someone unattainable.
Yet he was mine. Just as I belonged to him.
The knowledge threw me into a tailspin. I joined his movements, my need to claim as great as my yearning to succumb. We barreled into one another, our hips crashing together, my cunt grasping his cock.
Slamming into the bookcase, I felt my voice go slack, then erupt into a scream. My body exploded at the same time Poet froze, then he came with a rupture, his muscles shuddering. A thunderous roar broke from his throat and joined my prolonged cry.
His mouth surged against mine, offering me the sound of his climax. In kind, I came long and loud into his mouth, my pussy rippling and soaking his cock. Our voices blasted into one another until it became a single, primitive sound.
Oxygen wheezed from my chest, my breathing shaky and threadbare. And yet, I didn’t fall limply, nor did he collapse against me. Rather, Poet’s head snapped to mine, and the green fire of his eyes intensified. Through his expression, I saw my own.
We weren’t done yet. If we had our way, neither of us would ever be done with the other.
I scrambled, hooking myself around him as Poet wrenched me off the bookcase and carried me to the hill of blankets that I’d installed before Reaper’s Fest began.
Kneeling, he dropped me onto the mound. An eager gasp chuffed from my mouth as I landed, then he snatched my calves to jerk me closer and scissored my thighs apart, exposing the oval of my cunt. Bare. Flushed. With my limbs flopped over his thighs, the jester loomed above, his cock solid against his navel and that remarkable body etched in flames from the fireplace dominating the adjacent wall. Hovering, he feasted his gaze on my pussy, my mouth, my eyes.
Swiping one finger along my crease, Poet collected a stream of my climax, then stroked the same digit along the slit of his length, mixing his fluid with mine. Hunching into me, he licked that finger and crooned, then glided it over my lower lip, spreading our combined slickness there.
“Taste us, sweeting,” he coaxed.
