Her hand on my jaw held me in place as though I might still pull away. The steady pressure was a comfort.
I leaned into the kiss, into her tightening embrace around my waist. Poseidon! Kissing Selene was like swimming during a lightning storm—wild, with the risk of being electrified.
The soft moan she gifted me was like a siren’s call, and I was willing to drown for her kiss as I found myself climbing, clumsily, on top of her. My movements were slow, my body drained, but Selene helped me straddle her lap.
“Selene,” I whispered as her lips left mine and found my neck. I inhaled sharply when she bit down hard at the crook of my neck.
“Yes, pet?” she asked, switching to the opposite side of my neck and continuing her ministrations. My breathing became erratic, my hips ground down slowly against her, and I could feel my underwear becoming damp.
Her warm breath engulfed my ear, and I shivered in pleasure rather than from of the cold, releasing a moan of my own.
“Careful, darling, the divider between us and the driver is closed, but you don’t want him to hear you, do you?” she whispered against my ear and nibbled on my earlobe, sending pleasant tingling sensations down my neck.
Her hand cupped me through my trousers, and I whined low, grinding myself against her as urgently as I could manage.
Selene laughed. “Maybe you do want to be heard, hmm?” she questioned, and the feminine hum of her voice —the teasing—unexpectedly produced a gush of wetness.
“You’re so wet, you’re going to ruin your trousers; everyone will see the damp patch at your crotch,” she said tauntingly, andsomehow it simultaneously embraced and turned me on further, creating more wetness.
“Stop,” I whined, my eyes closed against the pleasure, my hips grinding harder against her hand. I pressed my head against her shoulder as I moved slowly against her, breathing hard.
“I’m hardly doing anything, pet. You climbed atop me and began to take your own pleasure,” she told me.
I halted my grinding as if only just aware of myself.
What was I doing? How, after everything, was I still so needy, so wanting of her, that I could forget what had taken place not an hour previously?
This wasn’t the time or the place, and—
“Don’t you dare stop,” Selene warned, interrupting my internal struggle. Her free hand guided my hips to keep grinding, and her hand between my legs pressed firmer against my clit.
My slow rhythm returned. I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me.
Thankfully, Selene suppressed a further groan by returning her lips to mine in a dominating kiss, eerily similar to the last time she had silenced me with her lips. But now, I pressed myself against her and opened my mouth for her.
I wasn’t sure how long she helped my weak body grind tiredly against her. Her lips only leaving mine to allow me to breathe, but there was something necessary about the act.
Something necessary about taking and being given. Something necessary about the physical closeness we were sharing. We needed it. I needed it.
She bit my lip with such harshness that I tasted the metallic tang of my own blood, and I came undone.
“Ouch,” I complained when she released my lip with a smirk and licked her lips in a way that made me take hold of her face for another passionate kiss.
After, I fell near enough limp against her. Pleasure had blinded me to my exhaustion for a time, but I was entirely spent.
Selene did not move me from her. She simply adjusted me to a more comfortable position and held me.
7. Accidents Happen.
Persephone Flores
Travelling by train was a new experience for me. I had watched the trains pass by in the distance on tracks that ran through forgotten fields that once belonged to my village but had been sold off more than a few decades ago, but I had never had a reason to travel by train before.
On the outside, they were loud, fast, and a little scary. Standing on the platform crowded with returning Ardens students and servants, I stepped closer to Selene, reaching for her hand. A distant memory of my grandfather warning me not to get sucked beneath the wheels as we awaited the arrival of a relative I could no longer recall made me anxious.
My grandfather had been a tall man, like Father—not as broad—and his hair was lighter. He had gripped my shoulder and pulled me back from the edge of the platform when I had run towards it upon hearing the approaching train, excited at my young age.
The excitement had faded quickly at his warning. Still, I had not associated trains with danger then.
