“Are you that sore?”
“Yes.”
Kane’s lustful gaze furrows in concern. He props himself up an inch.
“I don’t want you to hurt.” That frown drops to my open legs spread around his thighs. “Will you let me lick you to make you feel good?”
I drop my head back and groan.
I really am sore, but fuck, that sounds so good.
“I’ll be so gentle, I swear, honey,” he murmurs.
And I nod, lifting my dress to expose my glistening cunt. With bent knees, I widen myself for him. Kane massages my thighs as he angles himself to a comfortable position in the grass. One he can rest in while he enjoys my taste. There’s no doubt in me that he might have a small obsession with eating me out. But not quickly. No, he likes to go for quite a long time. We’ve been locked in our room for hours before as he massages me until I’m so relaxed, I could easily float into a lucid dream. Then, he’ll lick me slowly, and it goes on so long that the sensitivity becomes a live wire of sparks and short-circuiting fires inside me.
It’s one of the most out-of-body experiences that he begs of me weekly.
He starts off peeling my lips apart, humming as he gets a single taste of my arousal on his tongue. He’s careful with the pressure, kissing me with an open mouth as that one taste drills an unquenchable need in his brain.
I breathe heavily from my mouth, getting a better set on my elbows to watch him.
And he just keeps going, lapping away at my soaking cunt. My thighs vibrate over his shoulders, and I fight against his hold on me to rock against his mouth.
“Don’t fucking rush me. You taste so good. I’m in heaven.”
I moan, grinding like a needy, desperate virgin who has simply never felt an orgasm before. Because it always feels like the first time. Almost half a century of knowing each other, it will always feel like the first time.
Except now, we are addicted to each other. You’d think that would fade and dim like a dying campfire over time. But it doesn’t. Quite the opposite. We have trouble keeping our hands off each other. I find myself fantasizing about the next time we’re alone again. Our kids often yell at us in amused disgust.
“Kane, I am so close.”
He chuckles against me, then growls as he dips his tongue inside me. Once, twice, and then begins fucking me with it. I grip the back of his head and beg to come. Scream. Howl. The fire of my orgasm spreading too quickly. Its overwhelming pins and needles kick me off the edge, and I buck like I’m possessed against his mouth.
Always like the first time.
“Oh god!” I’m slick and unnaturally sensitive against his tongue that lingers. “I love you. I love you so much.”
“Again.”
“Give me a minute.”
“I want to taste more of it.”
After half a minute, he sucks on my clit, pulling each orgasm so much faster than the last. I’m covered in grass and dirt by the time it’s over. And we lie under the sun, sleeping for an hour, then gathering a handful of lavender before we return home.
Kane carries me on his back, making additional jokes about how much better in bed he is than Greystone, and how I should definitely tell him that.
We make lunch and set it out of the front porch table to enjoy with Chekiss. Kane plays a record, and as we finish, we get to work on the garden. Chekiss orders us around with an iced tea in one hand, pointing and organizing where each seed should be planted.
At sunset, we give DaiSzek a bath in the lagoon. It’s a failed effort as he takes a nosedive in the mud. Afterward, he sleeps on Niles’s grave, just as he has done the last three years since the daywe buried his old friend.
In the late evening, we get a visit from Sapphire and Niklaus. Her late-night cravings kicked in during her second trimester, and now she begs for my freshly baked cinnamon sugar cookies. Krimson and his girlfriend,Clara, show up not even ten minutes later. He somehow always knows when I’m baking something for his sister.
At midnight, Dessin gets peer pressured to drink with Krimson and Niklaus. And they end up seeing if Niklaus or Krimson can take Dessin, even now that he’s a bit older and not as fast.
The conclusion is that Dessin remains undefeated.
His last remarks to them are, “Maybe when I’m dead, boys.”
