It didn’t seem to bother him, it made his fingers dig into my thighs and his movements more pointed, voracious. He dug his tongue inside, sucking hard as he did so.
My head tipped back to the sky, eyes watery from the stimulus alone. It was easier if I didn’t look, if I closed my eyes. The tall stalks of the pond flowers brushed against my shoulders, my cheeks, as they swayed. My hips moved, slowly, at first, against his face, beginning to ease into every sensation he offered me. At this point, I wasn’t sure if the warm wetness was from the pond or myself.
My legs tensed again, feeling a rhythm snap into place, rocking steadily against his mouth. I reached down, entangling my fingers in his wet hair. He hummed in response, making his tongue still as I moved against it.
“It’s hot ...” I moaned. “God, it’s hot.”
My hips flinched, thighs trembling when I couldn’t move them any longer. An orgasm pulsed until my hips slowed to a halt, no longer able to hold myself up as the sensation worked its way through me, from my core to the tips of my toes. I could practically hear the electricity buzzing in my ears ... or was I just hearing my own blood flow?
Finally, I opened my eyes, taking deep breaths as I tipped back, raising my skirt.
“My turn.” He licked his lips, sitting up and sliding me back to his lap.
“I don’t think I can lift myself any longer,” I said breathlessly.
“You don’t have to.” He kissed me as he used one hand to undo his belt. I could taste myself on him, mixed with the earthiness of fresh water.
His cock was hot under my skirt, pressed flush against my pelvic bone. He lifted my hips as I placed steadying hands on his shoulders.We didn’t break our kiss, we just continued to melt in each other’s arms. His cock pressed between my legs, a couple failed prods before I reached for it, hot in my hand as I guided it, relaxing down.
I gasped against his mouth, and he captured my breath between our lips again, holding me tight as he rocked my hips back and forth, comforting, like he was easing me into an embrace.
“Do you think,” I whispered, eyes fluttering open, “this could be how Eve felt in the garden?”
He smiled like it was a silly question. “If the snake were half as lucky as I am now, I would consider the temptation worthwhile.”
He lifted my hips again, then settled them back down.
The feeling of being full, accepting his length. It stretched inside me, overwhelmed my senses. Though, it was only half the sensibility. He spoke to me in soft kisses and fleeting glances, the art of entwining one’s self with another. The language of the body, the soul.
I gasped against his lips, kissing deeply as if to distract from the fact that we were baring ourselves publicly. I lifted myself in tandem with his support, his grip tightening as his hands wrapped around my waist. It was like every sound, every unspoken word, made him clutch tighter, yet he was forcing himself to savor when all he wanted to do was devour. It was the type of hunger where you crave for a person, for the flavor of their lips against yours. To hold each other’s hearts, hoping neither one of you will squeeze harder than the other.
The more he allowed me to see and feel, the more he invaded the very core of my chest cavity, filling up my heart and replacing my blood until the only desire within me washim. Just him. A deep, primal instinct to eat him whole.
“Arkady!” An overwhelmed cry.
“You have me,” he breathed against my neck.
“Please . . .”
“I’m yours, completely and utterly yours.” His words were so light, I almost assumed he was saying them to himself.
I dug my nails into his shoulders, resting my head against his, my hips rolling desperately as his hands guided me. The quickness of the pace and the warmth of our bodies teased even the most stubborn of senses. Complete relinquishment of any goal other than to be pleasured, to be desired.
“There you go. Again,” he whispered the demand in my ear, “give in for me.”
One of his hands slipped under my skirt, and he distracted my lips once more as he did so. The sudden stimulation was too much, overwhelming when paired with the rest of the attention on my body, on his. I swore my gasp came out as a cry, a shock up my spine that made me sit up straight, but he held me tighter.
I sat fully down on his lap, with only enough energy to rock slightly. Though I assumed he’d finished long ago, as notallof the wetness could be my own. I supposed we were both distracted.
“Mine,” I breathed, resting my head against his. “By God, if I desire anything on this Earth, it is you.”
“And if the devil doesn’t strike me down, may you have it.” He caught his breath, a bright smile on his face as he lay back, holding me close to his chest.
And like the critters of the pond, we spent the last of the early-morning hours staring up at the sky between the mudflowers. The wind between their stalks whispering to us of the secrets we shared, of the moments we stole, and the night our hearts dug their roots into each other and made a home.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Artisan
