Instead, however, he had to keep his word. He growled at the confession and moved his fingers from her core and up to apex of her pleasure. He touched her clit and felt how swollen and bothered it had become.
When he made contact, she let out a moan of abandoned want. He rubbed her, just gently, and she let out a sound much closer to a sob. He continued the motion, knowing she was very close, but denying her just a second more, wanting to keep this moment his for a touch longer.
She repeated his name, what seemed a plea and a prayer all at once.
And then he moved against her, giving her what he had denied her, and she shuddered against him. He felt her body go completely limp and he held her between himself and the tree, not letting her fall.
Soon, he had his arms around her, steadying her, and she clung to him. He kissed her hair. He murmured her name into her temples.
After a few minutes, she regained the use of her legs. When he kissed her lips, she kissed him back and he could taste, somehow, her recent climax on her lips.
And he knew he wasn’t done with her.
No, he needed to make her come again.
He kept kissing her, swiping his tongue over her bottom lip, and palming her breast through the fabric of her respectable pelisse. She relaxed into him and he could tell, from the languor of her pose, that she, too, was in no hurry to leave this clearing.
He found her nipple through the cloth and pinched it, lightly, extracting from her an exclamation somewhere between surprise and want.
She broke the kiss.
“I want to please you,” she said, moving her hand downwards again, but he once more caught her wrist.
“No, Olivia. As I said, this is for you.”
“You just gave me pleasure.”
“It’s not enough.”
And then he dropped to his knees.
“Oh, god,” she said, when he stared up at her and reached for the hem of her skirts. He moved them out of the way, so that he was under them, and then rose up on his knees, so that his face was level with her core.
He pressed his face to her curls, inhaling the sweet scent there. She moaned above him.
“Don’t tease me anymore. Please. I can’t bear it.”
And, so, he obliged her. He placed his lips over her clit and sucked, gently, and earning from her more moans of assent. He didn’t tease her, but he didn’t rush either, sucking and licking.
In his opinion, he was back where he was meant to be. The place for which god had designed him—between her legs, giving her all the pleasure he could.
After a minute of pleasuring her in this way, his tongue and lips flitting between her channel and her clit, he was full to bursting himself. From where he was perched, his cock wasn’t even touching her, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need friction when he was like this with her. He never had.
He remembered the first time, back then, when he had come this way. He had been embarrassed and tried to hide it from her, but she had not been so easily fooled. She had told him that his reaction delighted her. That it made her want him more.
He wasn’t a boy anymore. He wouldn’t hide it from her now.
“Olivia, you’re going to make me spend.”
“Oh god,” she said, “I didn’t know.”
For a second, he froze. He wasn’t sure what she meant.
“I didn’t know it would still be this way. I thought—I thought I had imagined it.”
Relief permeated his chest. It was not just her affirmation that she, too, felt this depth of pleasure. But that she hadn’t forgotten what they had shared. She had known it had been special all along.
“No. You didn’t.”
