Page 22 of A Taste for the Peculiar

His curse vibrates against her skin. It feels like he’s been plunged into ice water, every part of his awake and alive. Sir. She must have picked it up from Samuel, but it’s dizzying to hear it in her voice, at once so demure and obstinate. So very Avirin. So perfect.

Her eyes flash with fire at what she’s done to him.

Pye sinks their teeth into the juncture of her thigh, in appreciation — in punishment. “Don’t start,” he growls, but there’s no hiding the way his voice is threaded with need.

Avirin’s legs quiver, but her response is low and steady. “I wouldn’t dare…Sir.”

Fuck.

All Pye can do is bury their mouth between her legs, desperately taking her clit between their lips. Avirin’s moan cuts through the night air. It’s all too quick, too urgent, like Pye needs to make her come before they lose the chance forever. There is a lesson they want to teach her, but gods, the thought of Avirin crying out around their tongue is too potent to ignore.

He has to slow down. He has to focus. Pye drags the flat of their tongue against her cunt, and, with all his strength, pulls away.

Avirin pants, eyes wide and glassy. Her skirts have slipped, her fingers gripping for anything she can find, tangling in the bush against her back.

Pye breathes over the slick seam of her pussy. “If you’ve been touching yourself, then direct me.”

She looks like she wants to cry. Her hand feints toward his head to pull him back in, but she understands the rules of this game. She grits her teeth and forces her fingers back into the greenery to keep herself in place.

“Instruct me,” Pye purrs. “Tell me exactly how you want me. Tell me where to touch you, how to move my mouth, if I should use my hands.” His fingertips glide up the outer lips of her cunt, pressing just enough to pull back the hood of her clit. “If a man won’t take your direction, he’s a waste of your time.”

Avirin stifles a groan, but Pye is patient. They do not move until she forces her mouth open, and the words tumble out. “Put your mouth…” In the end, she can produce only a needy sound.

Pye nudges her clit with his tongue when he enunciates, “Tell me, my lady.”

Her hips rock to tempt Pye closer, but they force themself still. It’s a battle of wills, and Pye intends to win, to lap up every spoiled sound she makes, to savor every ounce of fight she has in her.

Finally, Avirin huffs behind her teeth and jerks her hand from the shrubbery. She reaches between her legs and shudders when she brushes her clit. “Put your mouth…here.”

Her cunt looks like forbidden fruit, swollen and sweet. Pye waits no longer to close their lips around her, moaning when she drips into their mouth. They want more, setting the tip of their tongue against her as their proboscis begins to suck.

Her body spasms, head tipping back with a strangled sound. “How —”

Pye shows her their tongue, exposing the way it shifts between the flat human muscle she knows and an elongated tube with a hole at the tip.

Avirin watches Pye dazedly. For a moment, he wonders if it has scared her. If it disgusts her. But then she pants, “Again.”

Pye lowers their mouth, suctioning their lips and proboscis at the same time. The noises Avirin makes are positively indecent, and Pye’s cock twitches as they guide her fingers to the back of their head. “Hold me as close as you want. Guide me where you want me.”

Her fingers curl into Pye’s hair. When he mouths against her, she writhes like a woman possessed, skin glowing in the light as a tendril of hair falls from its pin. “Lower,” she gasps, pressing against his head. “Just — a little —”

When they find the place, she keens and rocks into their mouth. Her hips roll in a desperate rhythm, and Pye follows it, setting their tongue and lips to match her frantic pace.

Her mouth falls open. “There!” Her words choke on a sob. “Just — there — please!”

Pye stays exactly there, ignoring the strain of their own desire while they work her hips against them. Her release builds so swiftly, eyes rolling, gasps sharpening, hair snagging in the bush when her head tosses back.

She cries out when she crests the peak. Pye buries their mouth against her and laves between her legs, sending the moths on her mask all aflutter.

A chance to be someone you’re not. Someone you could be in another life.

Pye shuts their eyes and allows themself one temporary illusion. Just for tonight. Just for this moment. As long as his lips touch her skin, he belongs to her. He is her husband and her wife. He will steal glances at her from across the party. He will kiss her knuckles on the carriage ride home. He will hold her in his arms as she drifts off to sleep, and he will thank the ancient gods that he never has to let her go.

ELEVEN

Avirin

Dishware clinks as the second course is cleared from the table. The dinner party has gone on for nearly an hour, but Avirin hasn’t been able to eat a thing. She’s too distracted, too warm, gripping her napkin until it threatens to tear in half.