Whirling into a final stance, we froze. At an impasse, my chest thumped into hers, the right breast heaved across my bicep, and the hair on my forearms rose.
Fog laced the enclave’s wooded understory. Dawn washed into the forest.
Although I fucked her soundly last night, a warning jumped off my tongue. “Disarm before I smack that weapon out of your hand and grab you.”
Aspen smirked. “Make me.”
Sixty seconds later, my back hit the grass. The woman sidled on top, her naked thighs straddling my waist, and our clothes lay in a deserted pile. Stripped and grunting, she sat on my feverish cock and ground her pussy until a bellow pressed against my teeth.
“Fuck,” I choked. “Fuck, Aspen.”
“Do you yield?” she purred, her soaked cunt charging faster.
Somehow, I maintained my grip on the sword, which rested near my head. Meanwhile, Aspen tucked her axe behind her tailbone and bucked on my throbbing cock.
The first one to drop their weapon would lose this match. That was the new rule.
I arched into her cleft, too far gone to reply. But no, I would not yield until she came first. Hitching my ass off the ground, I launched my cock upright, pelting her deeply.
Aspen’s mouth dropped open, a moan cracking off her lips. Her eyes tensed, her body galloping on me, those beautiful tits bouncing. Even then, she fisted her axe and railed me in kind, each of us attacking, fucking, hollering.
As I struck that tight spot inside her, Aspen’s pussy convulsed. With a scream, she hunched into me, her frame shuddering, liquid pouring onto my sac. While she came, her fingers clenched the axe firmer, the weapon flashing like a prize.
And then her tongue licked the rim of my mouth. “Yield, Noble Knight.”
To emphasize this order, she flexed her inner muscles. The contraction finished me off, my cock rupturing, pleasurespurting from my crown. My fingers released the sword as I bowed into her, roaring, coming, yielding.
***
After that combative bout of sex, we dozed in the grass, then foraged for our garments. I stepped into my pants but ignored the shirt, opting to encircle Aspen’s middle and nibble on her shoulder instead.
She chuckled. “Looks like I won.”
“By a landslide,” I confirmed. “Which means a rematch is in order.”
Aspen shivered. And she might have turned in my arms. And I might have embraced her until another hour passed. Or perhaps I would have kept my lady in this place for much longer.
But that’s when hooves pounded across the enclave. And that’s when the shouts of battle rang out.
50
Aire
They rode past the arcade gateway of trees. The gang of knights stampeded into the enclave, hurdling through a glaring beam of sun.
Half-dressed, Aspen and I skidded to a halt. Frozen beside one of the towering trunks, we beheld the invasion.
The razor edges of their weapons glinted. Bronze cloaks flared behind them like banners, yet they did not trespass on behalf of Autumn. Blistered from the camp explosion, the traitors split like a river and spilled into The Lost Treehouse.
Fear roiled in Aspen’s eyes. When they fixed on me, wrath replaced the horror. She had diverted Rhys’s attention after the camp explosion, so for a king who played a long game, something new must have triggered him to take this initiative.
Lacking armor, a shield, or a cloak, my open shirt hung untucked over the leather hose. Aspen was better covered, albeit without a hood.
It did not matter. They knew by now.
“Find them!” Dame Muriel hollered. “Leave none alive!”
Them. Us.
