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“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper to her.
Somewhere close by, we can hear the sounds of a flock of pavos singing in unison.
When Althia opens her eyes again, they are bright and glossy with tears.
“Don’t cry, darling,” I say and then reach for the plate of fruit that I had the zagfers prepare for the picnic.
I feed her some of the cut-up tizret fruit, and a shiver of arousal ripples throughout my body as I watch her lick her lips after she swallows.
Althia seems to become more bold because she leans in to kiss me then, and when she does, I can still taste the tizret fruit on her lips.
“You’re so perfect.” The words come out in a growl, and the growl rumbles, reverberating in my chest as Althia falls to the grass and pulls me down on top of her.
I have been imagining her like this, on her back, vulnerable, arching, needy, and all for me, from the minute I saved her from the dark elf that attacked her.
Her hands go to my neck while I slide a hand underneath her back and then to her hip so that I am lifting her slightly.
I can feel every line and curve of her soft body as I press myself against her. We are still kissing when she lifts her legs and wraps them around my waist.
And I feel it then. Her need, her desire, is as strong as mine.
She has let go of every inhibition and is offering herself to me as though I am a god and she is a willing sacrifice.
I pull away then, and small whimpers of frustrated desperation escape her as she looks up at me, her brow furrowed with confusion and disappointment.
But the look clears from her face when my hands go to the front of her shirt and rip it away in one fluid movement.
She isn’t wearing anything underneath her shirt, and her breasts, perfect, round, and tipped with the prettiest light brown nipples, are revealed to me.
Her nipples are hard and tight, and I cannot stop myself from leaning down and taking one of them in my mouth while I remove her skirt with my free hand.
Althia arches her back, and her skin is warm and soft against mine. All I smell is her, the scent of her warm and heady arousal, and the warm fragrance of the nimond beans and rirzed herbs that hang permanently in the air.
My cock is hard and aching to be released, and precum starts leaking from the tip when I find my way between Althia’s legs with my hands.
I move away from her breasts, reaching to kiss her again when I find her clit. She lets out a small scream, her body twisting away from mine when I start to stroke her.
Her inner thighs are wet, her pussy is drenched, and her clit is hard and swollen.
“Do you like that?”
I very rarely talk during sex. I have never found a woman interesting enough to converse with more than necessary.
But now all I want to do is talk. I want to watch her shudder and tremble. I want to watch her break, and I want to talk her through it all.
Maybe I want to talk now because sex has never felt holy before. But this does.
Althia nods, her eyes half closed, her mouth hanging open slightly as I slide a finger inside her pussy while my thumb remains on her clit.
“Yes, please don’t stop.” The words come out in a low, throaty moan that goes straight to the tip of my cock.
I slide another finger inside her, and then another, and then another, until her eyes shoot open and I am sure that it must be almost painful for her.
Her hips buck around my hand, and she rocks herself against my fingers as I press down on her clit.
“Please!” she screams, and I don’t care who can hear us. “Please!” But she doesn’t say more than that. All she does is plead with me and murmur senselessly.
I pull my hand away from her, and she slams her fists on the ground in frustration, sending dirt and grass flying.
