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Poet increased his momentum, steering me across the bridge. I groped the front flaps of his pants, wrenched them apart, and moaned. His cock sprang from the vent, erect and high. The V of his hips sloped to frame the broad head, the skin flushed a ruddy hue, and the slit of his crown emitted a bead of liquid. Poet had been riveted by my pussy, but he hissed as I dashed my fingers from the base of his cock to the tip. The column thickened and rose even higher, and his sac hung heavy. Seasons, even in disarray he was dazzling.
The pulse in my core intensified. The sight of him drenched me.
Our surroundings blurred. Oaks and leaves thrashed against the torrent.
Out of nowhere, my backside hit a facade. Because the sturdy bridge wove through thick branches and extended for fifty feet, we hadn’t made it across before Poet rammed me against the ledge. The sides were constructed of slats instead of railings, the facade smooth and vertical enough to support me. We panted against each other’s mouths while hustling to get the trousers off, chasing them down his long limbs. Once they hit the ground, Poet punted them aside and homed in on me, just as I lugged him forward.
His arm hitched under my thigh and wrenched it upward, looping my limb over his hip. Rampant, I wiggled closer. Tingles shot across my flesh as my clit abraded the length of his cock, my arousal smearing him.
Whimpering, I coiled into the jester. My breasts mashed into the plate of his chest, and my body vibrated with need. I ripped through his hair, tugged on the roots, and angled his face to mine. “Deeper, Poet.”
On a groan, he fitted his waist into the vent of my thighs, splaying me wider. “Farther, Briar,” he gritted out.
We obeyed, my legs gaping for his hips and the pommel of his cock probing the seam of my pussy. My walls parted and suctioned around the tip. A disjointed moan tumbled from me as Poet nipped my lower lip and folded his hard body between mine, our muscles shaking with anticipation. The heat from his cock brimmed against my folds, the teasing contact lavishing me with shivers to the point where I might faint.
Pent-up and so long denied, we stood at the edge of the world, at the enclave’s topmost bridge, suspended over a void. We did not wait, could not wait, would never wait again.
I needed this now. I had always needed this.
With his cock poised at my opening, the jester veered back and fastened his gaze to mine. Rain struck his body, a powerful gust slashed through his hair, and those orbs glittered.
My hands scrambled from his hair to the taut shape of his buttocks. I clung to the bare swells of skin, bracketing his body against mine and pressing his phallus another inch into my slot. At the contact, a plaintive whine cracked from my lips, and Poet’s pupils dilated.
I held his gaze, and a demand surged across my tongue. “Fuck me now.” And to be clear, I warned, “Don’t you dare be gentle.”
The jester hissed. No wicked grin. No naughty reply. I saw him then, at a loss and consumed by the same impulse.
In one slick motion, Poet bolted my hips in place and snapped his waist. His cock lurched between my walls, pitching hard and high.
A shriek broke from my lips. “Oh!”
I clasped him for balance, the impact jolting me upright and knocking the breath from my lungs. My pussy sealed around his cock, taking every inch, encasing him to the seat.
Poet growled, his muscles tensing. We heaved into one another’s mouths and thrashed forth. Swiftly, he flexed his cock out of my folds and pounded in again, dislodging another moan from my throat, this one louder. Once more, he slung his hips forward, plying me open with the rounded head.
Seasons. Yes.
How I remembered this. How I’d missed this.
There was no pause. My jester obeyed the command and charged at me. Lost in a frenzy, Poet pumped his cock in and out. He exited fully, only to piston inside over and over, striking a spot that had me chanting into the air.
With every skilled lash of his hips, pleasure scattered from my spine to my toes. He supported the back of my head and hitched my thigh even steeper, the action inflating his bicep while his dexterous movements pinned me into the bridge, the depth of his erection causing my vision to spot.
I hadn’t forgotten his size. It was impossible not to recall how long and solid he was. Yet I felt it anew and shouted to the treetops.
Despite the stimulation racking me to the bone, I whined in misery. “Poet, I—”
“Where, Briar?” he husked. “Tell me where.”
I swiveled my pelvis to indicate the place that ached. Poet seethed, located the spot, and jabbed his pelvis quicker. And I went wild. His thrusts sharpened, chasing my moans, which clamored through the tempest.
Encouraging him, I squeezed his buttocks, the flesh toned and slick from the rain. With every swipe of his waist, his backside contorted with effort. He fucked so good, so deeply into me.
But not there yet. I needed more of him.
Ambition and greed propelled me to act. With a grunt, I arched into the bridge slats and clenched his ass for balance, then used that to bear down on him. I gyrated my waist, sweeping my pussy over his cock and fucking him back.
Poet’s muscles gave. That sexy jaw unhinged, his mouth ajar as a ragged groan toppled out. His fingers dug into me, mashing me closer as he accelerated, hauling his cock in … out … in.
