JК
Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 17 из 148The combination of Abeloec’s mouth, sure and gentle between my legs, and the inexorable pressure of Mistral’s mouth on my breast, tight and tighter, was exquisite.
A soft breeze danced across my skin. A trickle of wind pushed strands of Mistral’s hair across my body, pulling strands free from his long ponytail. His teeth continued their relentless press. He was crushing my breast between his teeth, and it felt so good. Abeloec’s tongue flicked fast and faster over that one sweet point.
The wind blew harder, sending dead leaves skittering across our bodies.
Mistral’s teeth were almost met in my breast, and it hurt now. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but in that moment Abeloec flicked that one last time I needed. He brought me screaming, my hands flinging outward, upward, searching for something to hold on to, while Abeloec built the orgasm with tongue and mouth.
My hands found Mistral. I dug nails into his bare arms, and only when one of my hands reached for his thigh did he grab my wrist. To do it, he had to release my breast from the prison of his mouth. He pinned my hands into the dry earth, while I screamed and strained to reach him with nails and teeth. He stayed just above me, pressing my wrists into the ground. He stared down at me with eyes flickering with light. My last sight of his eyes, before Abeloec made me fling my head from side to side, fighting against the pleasure, was that they were full of lightning, flickering, dancing, so bright it made shadows on the glow of my skin.
Abeloec’s hands dug into my thighs, holding me in place, while I struggled to break free. It felt so good — so good — that I thought I would lose my mind if he didn’t stop. So good that I wanted him both to stop, and never to stop.
The wind blew harder. Dried, woody vines screeched in the growing wind, and trees creaked with protest, as if their dead limbs would not last the wind.
The lines of color that fed out from Abeloec, red and blue and green, grew brighter with the wind. The colors pulsed bright and brighter. Maybe because the light was so intensely colored, it didn’t so much push back the darkness as make the darkness glow — as if the endless night had been brushed with neon lights.
Abeloec let go of my thighs, and the moment he did the lights dimmed, just a little. He knelt between my legs and began unlacing his breeches. His modern clothes had been ruined in last night’s assassination attempt, and he, like most of the men who rarely left faerie, had few things with zippers or metal buttons.
I started to say no, because he hadn’t asked, and because the magic was receding. I could think again, as if the orgasm had cleared my mind.
A soft breeze danced across my skin. A trickle of wind pushed strands of Mistral’s hair across my body, pulling strands free from his long ponytail. His teeth continued their relentless press. He was crushing my breast between his teeth, and it felt so good. Abeloec’s tongue flicked fast and faster over that one sweet point.
The wind blew harder, sending dead leaves skittering across our bodies.
Mistral’s teeth were almost met in my breast, and it hurt now. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but in that moment Abeloec flicked that one last time I needed. He brought me screaming, my hands flinging outward, upward, searching for something to hold on to, while Abeloec built the orgasm with tongue and mouth.
My hands found Mistral. I dug nails into his bare arms, and only when one of my hands reached for his thigh did he grab my wrist. To do it, he had to release my breast from the prison of his mouth. He pinned my hands into the dry earth, while I screamed and strained to reach him with nails and teeth. He stayed just above me, pressing my wrists into the ground. He stared down at me with eyes flickering with light. My last sight of his eyes, before Abeloec made me fling my head from side to side, fighting against the pleasure, was that they were full of lightning, flickering, dancing, so bright it made shadows on the glow of my skin.
Abeloec’s hands dug into my thighs, holding me in place, while I struggled to break free. It felt so good — so good — that I thought I would lose my mind if he didn’t stop. So good that I wanted him both to stop, and never to stop.
The wind blew harder. Dried, woody vines screeched in the growing wind, and trees creaked with protest, as if their dead limbs would not last the wind.
The lines of color that fed out from Abeloec, red and blue and green, grew brighter with the wind. The colors pulsed bright and brighter. Maybe because the light was so intensely colored, it didn’t so much push back the darkness as make the darkness glow — as if the endless night had been brushed with neon lights.
Abeloec let go of my thighs, and the moment he did the lights dimmed, just a little. He knelt between my legs and began unlacing his breeches. His modern clothes had been ruined in last night’s assassination attempt, and he, like most of the men who rarely left faerie, had few things with zippers or metal buttons.
I started to say no, because he hadn’t asked, and because the magic was receding. I could think again, as if the orgasm had cleared my mind.