“Lorel…please, stop moving,” he pleaded in a raspy whisper.
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🕑 Added 2022-12-15 18:59:11 +0000 UTC
“Lorel…please, stop moving,” he pleaded in a raspy whisper.
“Why?” I felt it, stirring beneath me.
Alistair was quiet. He broke his grip on me to run his fingers through the long curls of his hair. He didn’t have the shaved underside as Baxter’s hair did, and he had more ringlets than his younger brother’s. He was scooting back from me, placing me on the blanket to escape the taunting of my movements.
The lack of close contact heat left me shivering again. “Alistair,” I demanded with a single word.
“I can’t have you in my lap,” he tried to explain. “I might…stab you.”
I hugged myself and looked over my shoulder at him. “That isn’t a pocket knife in your drawers.”
“I’m sorry-I-You– You’re very beautiful and you just…affect me.” Alistair swore under his breath as he struggled to find the right words.
I was naked, injured, and in the woods…I was already physically vulnerable, I decided I could be emotionally vulnerable too. “You affect me too,” I told him.
The fight for words stopped and we locked eyes. I could see the flames dancing in his widening pupils and though I had no flames, the need for him was evident in my stare. I never minded taking the lead. Some men found me intimidating, I dripped with confidence and power. But Alistair was different, he didn’t act this way because he was intimidated, he was holding back because he respected me, because he wanted permission.
I turned away from the fire, dropping my arms and resting my hands on his thighs. He groaned at the bare sight of me. His eyes traveled down the curves of my body, licking his lips as he noticed my pebbled nipples, and then lower to the smooth lips between my thighs.
“Christ,” he swore again. “Lorel…Beautiful isn’t a good enough word for you.” He looked on in awe as I leaned forward and kissed him.
Stubble scraped across my chin as he dropped the blanket and pulled me into him. It was like breaking a dam of desperate affection. Despite the ferocity, he was still gentle. His mouth worked against mine and yet his arm tenderly cradled by back, conscious of the bruising I’d gained earlier.
He laid me back all while still tangling his tongue with mine. I felt it properly then, against my thigh. It was much bigger than a pocket knife. He hadn’t been kidding. Thick, long, and hard just for me. It throbbed against the cloth that kept it at bay, a small spot dampening from his pre-come.
I had no underwear to catch the dripping proof of my approval of the situation. My pussy was slick and I was finding the warmth I truly needed. What skin had been tinged with blue and stiff was now rosey and supple.
“Sweetheart,” Alistair moaned as his fingers dipped between my thighs. He had less eloquence now, rough with his words as he growled his pleasure in how wet I was for him.
My back arched as he plunged a finger inside me. He added a second when he realized the noises I made from rhythmic motions of his digits. I was wound up, and he kept turning the key as if I were a music box. The rough pad of his thumb tenderly swirled around my clit as he kissed my breasts.
“Alistair,” I moaned, clutching the blanket and sweltering in the heat of the fire above me and the fire inside me. “I’m going…to come,” I told him through strained breaths. “Make me come,” I encouraged, hips grinding against his hand.
“Yes, ma’am.” His teeth grazed latched to my nipple and I gasped.
My abdomen became taught and my muscles in my thighs trembled as the orgasm rattled through me. He did not stop, working me through it as I came on his hand.
Lord have mercy. I could get lost on the farm with this man.
He switched breasts, nipping and suckling, the other damp and hard from his mouth still. Using three fingers, a second climax caught me off guard and crying out his name again.
As he introduced a the fourth finger I heard him whisper, “Now you’re ready for me, sweetheart.”
