Page 53 of The Last Hunt
He smiles and reaches for her pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them and her underwear down. Maeve shifts and pulls them off, then quickly repositions herself on Aethon’s lap.
He seems to have forgotten her question as he takes in her naked body, his eyes like brands on her skin. She’s covered in just as many scars as he is, her body marked with the violence of her profession, but also with the story of her survival. Aethon presses a kiss to the largest scar on her shoulder. Maeve lets out a shuddering breath as he withdraws. He cups her ass and slides his hands around her hips, teasing her with light strokes on her lower stomach and thighs. She quivers, feeling slickness begin to build between her legs. He leans forward and sucks on her other breast, his mouth hot and tight.
“Your tattoos, artrenn,” she repeats with a sharp exhale, pleasure shooting down to her stomach where a tight knot of heat is already building.
But Maeve is distracted when Aethon scrapes his teeth across her nipple, his hands pressing her down hard onto his lap. He releases her and she pushes him back, kissing along his jaw and neck, then down to his chest again, trailing her mouth over his stomach. Her hands find his belt and she undoes his pants, unzipping them as well. He groans when she slides a hand down his pants, feeling the shape of him through his underwear. He’s thick and hard already. Maeve smiles and removes her hand, licking her way across his swirling tattoos.
“The coastline,” Aethon groans. He tangles a hand in her hair, pulling it away from her face.
“Mmm?” She kisses down the strong line of his hip, her hands digging into his thighs.
“My tattoos,” he says. “They’re the coastline of the beach near my home.”
She nods and looks at them again with new eyes. She can see that now. There are odd divots and arches that look much more naturally inspired than artistic or symmetrical. “I like them.”
Maeve smooths her hands up his muscled sides, enjoying the feel of his body. She tucks her fingers into the waistband of his pants. “Take these off.”
Aethon shifts up and pulls off his pants. He starts to remove his underwear but she stops him with a hand to his wrist.
“Let me do that,” she murmurs with a wicked grin.
His brows rise and he catches her chin, leaning down to take her mouth in his. Aethon’s tongue dances along hers, and she melts against him until he pulls away, leaving her breathless. “What kinds of dirty things are you thinking?” he asks.
“All kinds.”
Maeve braces her hands on either side of his hips. Aethon is wearing tight, dark gray boxer briefs, and she can see his cock straining beneath the thin fabric. Oh, this is going to be fun. She hasn’t ever played with a man like this before. Besides Aethon, all her sexual experiences were fast and hard, with one end goal in mind: release. But with Aethon, she wants to draw this out. She wants him desperate for her. She wants him to take her hard, yes. She wants to break apart beneath him. But even more than that, she wants the connection. The tenderness. The adoration in his gaze that makes him call her chrissah. She feels like she’s stepped off a cliff and plunged into an ocean of desire. She wants it all.
Maeve leans down, breathing hot air over his cock. She crawls up a little farther and kisses his stomach, biting his skin, leaving hot marks in her wake.
“Oh god -” he groans. “Come here, chrissah.” He pulls her up for another kiss, his tongue plundering, before she breaks it off and licks her lips. His neck and chest are flushed with arousal. His hair is tousled and he bites his bottom lip, one white canine sharp against it. Maeve watches him hungrily. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you Bladesy,” he says.
“I am quite good with my mouth,” she replies, one brow rising.
“Fuck,” he groans, one hand rubbing over his face, the other grabbing her arm.
She grins and slides down his body. She snaps the band of his boxers once - twice. Aethon watches her with his lips curled up in a silent feral snarl. His hands clench on the comforter. Maeve feels her stomach drop.
She presses a kiss to his cock through his boxers. He’s hot, even through the fabric, and deliciously hard. He smells like sweat and her lavender soap, and something else that’s just pure, primal male.
Her nails dig into his stomach, and scrape down, catching in his boxers and pulling them down and off, revealing all of him for her.
“Fuck - artrenn -” Aethon is big. Maeve had hardly gotten a good look in the darkness of the escape pod. His cock is thick and long, flushed with arousal, the head of him curving up just slightly. She swallows hard, then shifts his legs apart so that she can kneel between them.
She meets his blazing gaze, and then spits into her hand. Aethon groans, his muscles flexing in his stomach, his hands clenching in the comforter again.
“So fucking filthy -”
“You want it,” she purrs.
“Oh I want it,” he agrees with a grin.
When Maeve wraps her hand around the base of his cock, he shudders beneath her, his hips rocking up into her hand unconsciously.
“Tell me what you like,” she says. She slides her hand up and down his shaft a few times, twisting her wrist a little toward the head.
“I don’t care how you touch me,” he pants. His head is back, his eyes squeezed shut. “Just keep touching me.”
She smiles and leans down, sucking the head of him into her mouth.