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Poet’s hands extended and linked with mine, then lifted them toward the overhead branch. Bracing our arms like that, he affixed our fingers around the suspended offshoot and used it as a buttress. Then my jester flung his hips up into me, his turgid flesh penetrating my cunt at a breakneck pace and robbing me of speech.
I hollered. My pussy melted on him, my skin blazed like kindling, and I coiled so far back, the tips of my hair brushed his groin. Despite the momentum, Poet’s serpentine motions were generous—swift and rough, yet sinuous and passionate.
The folds of my pussy convulsed around his cock, my walls gripping and soaking him. We rode each other, surrounded by the torrent, lost to the force of it. Carnal sounds flew into the air, guttural and raw, elemental and real.
I hurled myself into this feeling, gave myself over to it. Nothing else existed outside this dark, torrential corner of the world. No one would ever disarm me as he did.
My jester. My equal.
The one whom I could never escape, never forgot, never forsake, never stop wanting, never surrender. The one I’d been waiting for.
I will find you.
Everywhere. Anywhere.
To the center of this continent. To the ends of this earth.
“I love you,” I wept in pleasure. “I love you.”
Poet’s body flared with heat. A harrowed, hungry noise tore from his throat. I yelped as he pulled his length out of me, twisted my body toward his, and swooped back into my pussy.
I sat astride the jester’s cock, face to face with him now. My eyes stumbled across his features and collided with those glittering eyes. The verdant color sliced through the night, his pupils flashed with a thousand emotions, and a severe expression overwhelmed his features.
Droplets ran down Poet’s torso and sank to his narrow waist. Every inch of this man’s form was toned and packed with muscle. Yet the greatest perfection remained the exquisite snaggletooth that peeked from his lips.
Less than a second had passed before he wordlessly seized my backside and reeled me into him, yanking me into his cock. My mouth fell open, gales of air heaving from me with each circle of his waist. I caught his shoulders for balance as every jolt spread me wider.
Poet’s abdomen clenched with the effort. Smatterings of rain trickled from his body and landed on mine. My clit brushed his pelvis, the abrasion causing the tender flesh to swell and throb worse than before.
The jester struck a new depth, sloping his cock and undulating my hips in unison. Seasons, help me. I moaned, sounding afflicted, and held on.
And on. And on.
“Say it again,” he husked, though it came out like an entreaty as much as a demand.
My eyelids fluttered, desperate to shut and feel the shape and heat of his cock. Yet I summoned the will to level my gaze with his. “I love you,” I chanted. “I miss you, and I want you, and I love you.”
Poet thickened between my folds. “Again,” he implored. “Say it again whilst I fuck you.”
“I love you!”
“Again.”
Again. Again. Again.
Every time, my voice grew louder, the declaration firmer. Every time, he whipped into me deeper, harder, faster.
I scrambled closer, and his free arm roped around my middle, with the other hand splaying over my buttocks. My breasts swelled against his chest with each panting exhalation. Like this, Poet pitched his bare cock, and I careened into his body.
The wind whistled. Rain smashed into the bridge.
Poet’s orbs bonded with mine as he slung my legs over his shoulders, then extended them farther over the railing, so that my calves dangled a hundred leagues into the air. And he slung into me relentlessly, his muscles contracting, so that I felt the brunt of his fucking between my folds.
An unearthly sound ripped from my tongue. Poet yanked me into him, his mouth crashing against mine while his hips belted out a vehement pace. My thighs split, my pussy flooded his length, and my moans tumbled into his mouth.
My jester kissed me, swallowing the noises I made. And I tasted his own growls, the sounds covetous yet possessive.
So long, I had dreamed of this. Even longer, I’d yearned.
