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His cock tented in his pants, the sight parching my lips. I wanted to do this to him, to pack my mouth with all that hard flesh, to swivel my tongue around the pommel and taste the salted bead of cum rising from his crease. I wanted to cup the weight of his balls, to see his head soar back, his mouth gaping as he came.

Since that wouldn’t happen, I claimed this moment for all it was worth. I would make him as distraught as he made me.

I would give. And I would take.

“Still famished, soldier?” I panted while reeling my waist to his mouth. “Do you want to feed more from my pussy?”

Aire’s frame tensed. Instantly, he drew back, releasing my clit. Under the moon’s rays, his mouth glistened with my arousal, the vision irresistible.

Instead of bristling at my foul talk, those eyes sank to half-mast. With unbridled, uncensored candor, the warrior seethed, “Yes, please.”

My heart rate spiked. The sight of him kneeling, succumbing to me, shoved me off the precipice.

I took this leap of faith. And he dove with me.

“Then fuck me with your mouth. Make me come on your pure tongue,” I urged.

Shaking his head, Aire muttered a disjointed, “Fuck.”

Then he plummeted again, doubling his efforts, whipping his tongue into me, his fingernails nicking my buttocks.

With an eager moan, I joined him. My hips flayed, lodging him deeper, faster. We blasted into motion again, my cunt leaking onto his palate, my inner muscles fluttering on the crest of an orgasm so destructive, I’d need reinforcement later.

I writhed against his mouth. Sweat bridged across my tailbone, the nightgown rucked to my navel, and the neckline stuck to my clavicle like film. Threads of heat wove through my being, so that I felt the impending release down to my pores, as if I might come from each corner of my body.

We sped up, his head paddling like a man possessed. My jaw unhinged, my lips falling ajar as I stared down.

The knight’s slender tongue fucked into me, swifter, longer. His gritty outtakes vibrated through my walls, exacerbating the pleasure.

He palmed my rear, then my cycling hips, then my sprawled knees, then returned my ass. His tongue probed my cleft, then sketched my clit, harsh jolts striking into me.

I grasped his scalp, hitching my pussy to his mouth, witnessing as he swallowed each drop. He clung to my backside, then drove one hand to my lower back, bending me at a new angle that flooded my vision with stars.

Shouts turned into screams. For Seasons’ sake, I felt it in my tailbone, in my lungs, in every molecule.

This shouldn’t be possible. But he made it possible.

Another covetous growl from Aire ruptured around my clit. I lunged at him, the tempo urgent, building.

My limbs went stiff. And the scream split me in two with the might of an axe.

Dazzling light flared behind my eyelids. My muscles constricted around his tongue, cum splashing down Aire’s throat. His eager groan filtered through my cries, and he hugged me to him, lapping me raw while I quaked in his arms.

The orgasm ripped through my equilibrium, the world inverting. Unprecedented pleasure washed through my blood vessels like liquid fire. Fraying at the seams, I came with a holler, so loud and long my throat smoldered.

As the soft tissue around Aire’s tongue pulsated, he moaned into my cunt, drinking to his fill. All the while, he plied my walls and massaged my spine.

Engulfed in flames, I came and came and came. Then I collapsed in shock.

My weight caved into the swing, and he released my pussy. After kissing the sensitive tip of my clit, Aire dragged his defeated face to mine. Craning his head, he licked the remaining fluid from his lips, an oppressed noise shearing from his lungs.

“You will be the death of me,” he seethed.

My heart sprinted. I could echo the same thing.

Despite this earthquaking pleasure, we hadn’t sated ourselves. If anything, we just made this mission a lot more complicated.

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