Page 163 of Dare
Defiant, Flare waited me out by strip-teasing. Only when the dress had finally come off, sufficiently riling me up to the point of where I practically foamed at the mouth, did she comply. Swinging her ass toward me, she linked her fingers over the bridge railing and bent forward. My fingers were the first culprits, hooking into the cleft of her body while she cried out and soaked my knuckles. Next, I fitted my cock to her, slinging in and out, my groans converging with her sobs. The more noise she made, the longer I fucked her, the more places I reached.
Being an explorer and experimenter had its perks. On that same bridge, adrenaline consumed us. With Flare’s permission, my cock eased from her pussy and edged into her backside. Using a balm, the tip of my cock widened her tight passage with each concentrated thrust. All the while, my thumb pressed into her clit, the stimulation relaxing her muscles.
Flare’s pain became her pleasure, a reward that had my dick standing higher. I beat my hips, deepening the orifice. The result produced goosebumps down her back and pulled an inconsolable moan from Flare’s mouth, the sound of which pitched my eyes to the back of my skull. Her ass rode my cock, her anus sealing around me until we lost all presence of mind.
In my medical chamber, she would feign illness, playing the coy patient and distracting me from work. At which point, I would use a number of convenient tools on Flare.
Many were smooth. Others were not.
Other days and nights, we writhed atop piles of linen, in carpets of moss, next to the tide. Sprawled inside her largest sand drawing—a depiction of the continent—I threw my cock into Flare, her cunt wetting me to the base and her elated moans compounding in my ears. Then I clasped her to me and nibbled on her throat while she laughed.
I knew nothing of courtship or romance. But I did know how to hold my little beast through a nightmare, heal her injuries, listen to her words, fuck, kiss, talk, and remember. That, I could do.
No description measured up to what this felt like. The effervescence of her climax. The building delirium of mine. The uncoordinated release that racked my frame, launching shouts from my mouth.
Friction. Pacing. Cadence.
All three had us shaking for air. We exhausted ourselves, then started over again. And in that time, six months became one year.
49
Jeryn
Standing at the mouth of the dining hall fireplace, I glared at the iron cauldron hanging over a flame. Petals and leaves swam in the concoction. Flare had expressed her love for their flavors, but although they smelled fragrant individually, blending them had been an unwise idea. Scents akin to overripe raisins and distilled vinegar clashed, which could not bode well for the taste.
If I had stuck to making her favorite hand salve, this morning would have been fruitful. But no, I’d insisted on trying something new, without guaranteed success. The woman sleeping in my bed tended to have this impulsive effect on me.
While Flare loved delicacies, we’d tasted nearly every option available to us here. Picturing her excited face after sipping a customized blend, my logic had gone rogue. Yet for all my knowledge, I was shit at this. Ladling a spoonful, I waited for the fluid to cool. Sampling this atrocity would tell me more.
In the interim, I scowled. Years of medical training. Transplanting organs, eliminating pathogens, treating illnesses, creating remedies. If I could do that, I could fucking make tea.
The weight of someone’s presence warmed my naked spine. Two slender arms flanked my waist from behind and crossed over my abdomen. Her wildflower scent drugged my senses, mingling with the aroma of Winter. The tempting little beast must be wearing one of my shirts. And likely nothing else.
The knowledge worked on me like an intoxicant, the buzz fueling straight to my cock. Despite how I’d exhausted her last night, she had not overslept.
Flare spoke against the gap between my shoulder blades. “You didn’t wake me.”
“Because if I had, I would not have left our bed,” I supplied. “Not for a very long time.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem.”
“I wore you out last night. You needed your rest.” My lips tilted. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Cruel man.”
“Insatiable enchantress. And yes, to the cruel part.”
Flare smiled against my skin, producing a ripple effect down my vertebrae. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I returned, taking her hand and massaging it.
We stood listening to the cauldron gurgle. Finally, she inquired, “What is that? It smells foul.”
“An experiment,” I lied to save face. “For … vitamin supplementation.”
Prolonged silence. Shit, she’d heard something in my voice.
“Was it for me?” she asked softly.