He’d participated in his fair share of exhibitionism over the years, but had never been so keyed up with taboo anticipation. Was it because they were on the grounds of a sacred Temple? Was it because Cassandra herself had been off-limits mere weeks ago?
The thought of her lips and tongue on his cock had him instantly hard, begging to escape the increasingly restrictive cage of his pants.
And the fact that this was her idea? He was a goner. Knew this wouldn’t last long.
She pulled him free then wrapped her delicate fingers around his shaft, stroking up and down as she spent a long minute admiring him.
The ravenous sparkle in her eyes had him desperate to yank her from her knees, strip off her pants, and settle her in his lap, burying himself to the hilt.
She stared up at him from underneath feathery lashes, her hand pumping his cock how she knew he liked it, squeezing harder as she reached the tip.
He tilted his head back, hissing through his teeth, trying to stall his climax and not end this glorious torture before it had even begun.
Latching her smoky blue eyes onto his, she unfurled her pink tongue and ran it from base to tip, flicking the sensitive spot just beneath his head. He bit down on his own tongue to keep from moaning and giving them away to any lingering patrons perusing the stacks.
How did she even know about that spot? Based on her history, he knew she’d never done this before.
He said a silent prayer to Letha, thanking the Goddess for supplying Cassandra with all those dirty memories. He nearly exploded at the thought of her viewing them, turning herself on by studying a scene exactly like the one she was now re-enacting.
She pursed her lips and dribbled a trail of saliva onto his burning skin, using her hand to coat and stroke his length. Smiling up at him, she laid his head against the flat of her tongue and then closed her lips. The sensation of his cock suctioned inside her warm, wet mouth made his hips buck.
“Fuck,” he moaned before biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He wrapped her long, silky ponytail around his wrist as her head bobbed in his lap. He desperately tried to keep his hips still, to not risk hurting her by slamming into the back of her throat.
She took him down so deep that her nose grazed his lower abdomen, and he couldn’t help the loud groan that escaped him as the muscles of her throat fluttered around him.
“Quiet,” she whispered, admonishing him, a prideful smirk gracing the lips he was dying to push his cock back through. “Are you trying to get us kicked out of here?”
He grunted softly, thrusting into her hand and choking out a ragged response. “I…shit…I don’t know if I…oh High Gods,” he nearly shouted as she swirled her tongue around his head. “You’re torturing me on purpose, aren’t you? For making you stay silent in the alley behind the Empress’s Lap.”
“Turnabout’s fair play,” she crooned, raising a coquettish eyebrow before dipping her head back down and sucking him harder, her hand stroking in tandem with her mouth. He was beyond words, beyond thought, nearly beyond consciousness.
She placed her hand on his thigh, squeezing in silent permission for him to be rougher, stop holding back. The gesture snapped the last lingering thread of his restraint.
Muffled groans seeped through his gritted teeth as he tightened his grip on her ponytail and plunged himself down her throat. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
She moaned against him and the scent of her arousal, that sweet and spicy musk, surrounded him as he erupted. His feathers stirred as the last of his release leaked onto her tongue.
His chest heaved as he stared down at her, at this wanton goddess smiling wickedly from between his legs.
The tip of her tongue poked out to lick at a glistening drop at the corner of her mouth.
He had no control left, had just emptied it all into her, so he grabbed her arms and dragged her up his body. He needed to taste her swollen lips, suck her tongue, lick her teeth, pour as much of his gratitude into her as he possibly could.
“Cassandra,” he whispered against her mouth, “that was…”
He kissed her again, relishing the feel of her soft body pressed against him. There were so many things he ached to say.
He wanted more of her.
Fuck, he wantedallof her.
He’d promised her patience, but it was becoming increasingly hard to come by.
He stroked his hand against her hair, smoothing it back before pressing another gentle kiss to her addicting lips. “You look thoroughly ravished,” he said, relishing her soft giggle. “Everyone in here is going to know exactly what we’ve been up to.”
She shrugged, pushing away from his chest to sit on her heels as she carefully tucked him back into his pants. “Like you said,” she whispered, “I’m sure this kind of thing is mandatory in Meridon.”
He was about to laugh when a gust of wind ruffled through his feathers and breathed a message from Cleo, the Artisan’s Windrider lover, into his ear.
