Page 37 of Faun Over Me

“I’m sorry I’m not—”

“You’re perfect.” She released Avery’s wrists and cupped her breasts, sighing happily. “So pink and soft and Gods, these breasts.”

Cricket arced forward, capturing Avery’s nipple in her mouth. Even through the cotton, the feel of her sucking sent a jolt of pleasure through her bones. One hand flew to the back of Cricket’s head, while the other drove between them. She yanked the muscle tank aside, baring Cricket’s breast and pinching the nipple. The faun gave a muffled shout and snagged Avery with her teeth. The flash of pain and soothing stroke of Cricket’s tongue had her head dropping back. She gasped, writhing and panting as Cricket tugged her bra cup down and laved her nipple.

“Oh, Cricket.” Heat like melted chocolate puddled in her groin. Her pussy clenched, seeking to satiate the dull, demanding throbbing.

“I’ve got you,” the faun whispered into her flesh, sucking and rolling Avery’s nipple between her lips. Soft fingers stroked the swell of her breasts, teasing the band of her bra. A pinch and a pull, and the garment fell away, the heft of her breasts caught in those same hands. Cricket moved to Avery’s other nipple, wringing gasp after gasp from her lips until she was panting and rolling her hips, seeking something, anything, that would soothe the rising ache.

Cricket crooked her leg, and Avery’s gasp became a strangled moan as delicious, delicious friction met her throbbing pussy.

“Oh, oh gosh.”

“That’s it, sweet girl,” Cricket murmured. She circled one soft thumb against a nipple, speaking directly into the other. Her words vibrated through sensitive flesh, clenching Avery’s belly. She clung to the faun, nails digging into the soft, tightly grown fur at her shoulders. It was too much, all of this attention, this worship of her breasts too much. She was going to combust, and Cricket gave too much.

With a tiny snarl, she pushed the faun away, shoving her hands under the hem of her shirt and dragging it up. Small, pert breasts waited for her, their nipples a dusky brown and tightened to enticing buds. She spread her fingers wide, her pianist’s reach allowing thumb and little finger to tease both nubs. Cricket shivered at that first brush, and a tiny bleat escaped as Avery trailed her fingers further.

Four more nipples lined her torso, two on either side, tight against her toned body but no less sensitive. She’d felt them the night before, a quiet wondering she’d had answered by the little ridges her fingers had explored in the dark. But now, seeing the faun stretched out beneath her in a lighted room, Avery could barely breathe.

She was stunning and wild, other and so achingly familiar. Each tweak and pinch, each gentle circle, had Cricket writhing in pleasure, her chest rising and falling in deep, panting heaves. Narrow hips rose, seeking more touch, more of Avery, and she was all too happy to comply.

Bending low, she snagged the tip of one of an ear in her teeth, a pinch and nibble. Nothing more.

Cricket cried out, hands clasping Avery’s rear as though she needed to hold onto something steady to keep from flying off the bed. “Oh, Gods,” she panted, her breath hot against Avery’s shoulder. “Oak and fucking ivy, Aves.”

“Aves,” she murmured into the sensitive down, running her lips down the length of an ear as she pinched, plucked, and teased those nipples. Cricket’s body trembled beneath her, and her hands were everywhere. On Avery’s rear, her waist, skimming her soft sides and tugging on the end of her braid.

There was a harder tug, followed by softer ones, and Cricket hummed in a way that sounded victorious. Avery glanced down to ask what she was so proud of when her hair came cascading free from its braid. Cricket sighed, running her fingers through the mass and smiling at Avery.

“Like fox-fur,” she whispered, her tone full of awe. She closed her hand into a light fist, wound Avery’s hair around her wrist, and pulled. Another flash of pain was subsumed by a hot rush of pleasure as Cricket took her breast into her mouth, resuming the laving and sucking that had driven Avery to the brink before.

The throbbing in her pussy went from almost forgotten to all-consuming, and the only thought in her head was to make Cricket feel as good as this. To feel as worshipped and wanted and so full of desire that all else left that pretty, complicated mind of hers.

She drove her hand between them, cupping Cricket and smiling at the damp warmth that met her hand. The faun gasped, her punishing licks stopping long enough to tell Avery she was on the right path to what she desired: Cricket writhing with pleasure from her touch.

She curled her fingers, circling the apex of Cricket’s thighs and smiling when the faun let out a needy whine. “May I?”

“Gods, yes.” She pressed against Avery’s hand, a desperate note entering her breathy voice. “Please, Aves.”

“Aves.” She dragged her fingernails up the front of the bike shorts and along the hem. “I like that.”

“Good, great,” Cricket panted. “Aves. Aves, Aves, Aves, sweet girl, baby girl, please.”

“Need something?” Cocking her head, Avery bit her lower lip and played the coquette. She could get used to this submissive, needy version of Cricket begging for her touch. Slipping her index finger between the band and Cricket’s hipbones, she drew a light line and let the elastic snap against her down. Cricket hissed, eyes flashing, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she raised her hips to lift her rear off the bed and cocked her head in question.

Avery was no fool. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of the bike shorts and tugged them low, revealing a lightly furred torso, the tawny down darkening to a dusty brown at the juncture of slim, elegant thighs. Cricket kept still, and it was only when the silence stretched between them that Avery glanced up to find the faun watching her closely. Her breaths were tiny and tight, her eyes hooded but intent on Avery, and her hair was a wild, wanton mess spread across the pillows. She looked—

“Beautiful,” Avery whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I—” She silenced whatever Cricket had been about to say with the sweep of a finger through damp fur. A nub met her touch, and Cricket cried out when she circled it. Whatever tension the faun had held, whatever apprehension had had her looking at Avery in such a way, vanished. She melted into the bedspread, tight, tiny mewls forcing their way from her throat. And she looked so painfully lovely.

Avery bent low, taking one pert breast into her mouth as she split Cricket’s lips, mind reeling at the heat of the faun. The slick damp that seemed to suck her finger in.

“Like that,” Cricket panted, rocking into Avery’s finger. “Oak and ivy, like that, Aves.”

Crooking her finger, she angled her wrist, seeking and finding that soft, spongy place so similar to her own. She cupped Cricket’s ear, stroking the tip as she stroked her pussy. Winding the faun tighter and tighter, suckling, licking, nibbling, stroking.

That lean body trembled beneath her, breathless cries squeezing from her throat. Her thighs clamped around Avery’s hand, delicate muscles in that hot, slick channel tightening.There was a wonder in seeing her brought to the very edge. In seeing Cricket coming undone before her very eyes. Gone was the cranky, bossy faun, replaced by the most beautiful creature Avery had ever seen, made powerless by her touch. It was addicting, and already, as Cricket gasped and panted her name, muscles twitching, nostrils flaring, Avery wanted more.

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