Page 17 of A Taste for the Peculiar

“Now, Lady Avirin, should you so choose…” Lord Riften lowers their face toward Samuel’s lap. “I have no doubt your future husband would be thrilled if you blessed his cock with your mouth.”

Her fingernails dig into the chair. Her mouth? The thought is alluring and foreign, yet when Lord Riften presses a kiss to Samuel’s dick, Avirin makes a needy sound to rival Samuel’s. She has heard rumors of Lord Riften with other men, but none of the men would confirm it. It’s improper. It’s wrong. It is not what God intended, yet Avirin hears a chorus of angels when Lord Riften’s pretty mouth settles next to Samuel’s flushed member.

“There’s a myriad of things you can do.” Lord Riften lets their lips brush Samuel’s tender skin with every word. “Lick the head here…”

Lord Riften lays out their tongue, swirling around Samuel’s swollen tip and teasing the glistening hole. Samuel tries to sit still. Avirin can only imagine what it’s like to have Lord Riften’s practiced mouth against him. She digs her heels into the floor, and she can almost picture it, Lord Riften’s lashes fluttering while he lowers his mouth between her thighs.

Samuel whimpers when Lord Riften twists over the rim of his cock. “You can drag your tongue up the shaft.” Lord Riften flattens their tongue, covering Samuel’s entire length until it glistens with spit. “And some people like it when you tease every part of them. Isn’t that right, Samuel?”

With Lord Riften’s other hand, he lifts the sack of skin that hangs beneath Samuel’s cock and sucks one side into his mouth. Samuel’s eyes roll back. The sight shouldn’t affect Avirin so deeply, but the building ache between her legs might leave a burning hole in her dress. After another moment of teasing, Lord Riften returns to the shaft, rolling their tongue in a way that makes Avirin want to cry out.

“Avoid using your teeth, unless they ask for it. Be gentle, but firm. All this kissing, licking, sucking…” Lord Riften trails their tongue lazily along the rim of Samuel’s cockhead before they lift their gaze to Avirin. “It works on more than just cocks. I bet it would work on that pretty little place between your legs, too.”

The sound she makes is swallowed by the music below. She presses her fist between her legs, but Lord Riften clicks their tongue.

“No touching, Lady Avirin. You remember the rules.”

A scoff escapes her. She can hardly remember her name, let alone what he’d told her moments before. Surely he isn’t serious; he has that impish look in his eyes, and the pain at her center is growing stronger. She needs a moment, just a second to press the heel of her hand against —

“Avirin.”

Their voice impales her like an arrow. She bites back a moan at the sound of her name, only her name, but the sharp look on Lord Riften’s face roots her in place. It’s vexatious. It’s exasperating, and when she pulls her hand away, the ache grows. She throbs with want, the slightest bit of friction making things unimaginably worse.

“I know,” Lord Riften coos mockingly. “It hurts, doesn’t it? Dear, sweet Lady Avirin, made to suffer.”

Avirin wants to cry out. She wants to scream. She wants to curse him, but his cruelty heightens the longing inside her. How can that be? How can his denial make her crave more?

Perhaps it’s a curse of her affliction. Perhaps this is a sign that her sinful nature is overtaking her, turning her into something wanton and wicked. Perhaps that is why she loves the queer sight of Lord Riften and Samuel together.

For one blasphemous moment, Avirin prays that she will not be cured.

Lord Riften laps at Samuel’s head like the cat who got the cream. “There, there: I won’t torture you both. We should give at least one of you relief.” Benevolently, Lord Riften parts his lips against Samuel’s head, but he doesn’t move further. He doesn’t move at all, leaving Samuel squirming for attention.

“Please, Sir,” Samuel gasps. “Please!”

“Ask our guest,” Lord Riften corrects.

Samuel’s needy eyes whip toward Avirin, his face so close she could kiss him. She hadn’t realized how they’ve drifted together, seeking someone else who understands the delicious torture Lord Riften inflicts.

“Please, my lady,” Samuel begs. His mouth is so close she could taste him, his eyelashes fluttering against her cheek. “Please tell him to touch me. Please tell him to take it —”

The man can hardly get the words out. His breath mingles with hers, and it takes all she has not to press her mouth to his, not to swallow his sounds with a soothing kiss to ease the ache. She doesn’t know why she wants it, why her body is bursting with pain and pleasure all at once.

“What do you think he wants?” Lord Riften muses. Somehow, his indifference is infuriatingly arousing. There he sits, destroying both of them while he remains completely placid. Lord Riften flattens their tongue and taps Samuel’s cock against it until Samuel buries his face in Avirin’s shoulder. Lord Riften only smiles. “Do you think he’d like it if I swallowed him into the back of my throat?”

Samuel cries out against her skin, but Lord Riften’s eyes lock onto her. It leaves her panting, fingernails tearing into Samuel’s sleeve. His cock blushes and strains for more. The place between Avirin’s legs is just as swollen and needy, but Lord Riften forbids her relief.

God, she needs Samuel to find his release. She needs one of them to be able to combust. The words leave her in a rush. “Take all of it.”

“All of what?” Lord Riften teases.

Avirin’s ears burn, but Lord Riften does not give in.

Samuel keens against her.

“His — cock,” Avirin breathes before she can stop herself. “Take his cock into your mouth. Take all of him into your throat.”

Lord Riften’s gaze scorches into hers. “You want me to swallow him?”