Page 40 of Presence

What he’s saying is... when he was injured, he couldn’t see through me, but now he can. And he’s not pleased with what I’ve kept to myself.

“You were a bad girl, weren’t you?” he asks, his eyes narrowing into dark slits. His blue eyes could match the sky, but only if it were stormy. Otherwise, they’re just too dark, edged with something deeper than sunlit skies.

“You were in danger,” I reply, my voice steady, despite the heat swirling inside me. “My only thought was to save you. There was no time for... for anything else.”

“Mm, another little lie,” he quips, one corner of his lips lifting. “I think I should show you just why you shouldn’t lie to me, Claire. You need to be taught a lesson.”

Suddenly, I’m acutely aware that I’m not wearing any panties. A bolt of pleasure strikes at my core, and I can feel my wetness coating my thighs. Being scolded by a guardian spirit shouldn’t be this arousing, yet I can’t stop rubbing my thighs together.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask, my voice dripping with desire.

I could blame it on the weightlessness, the breathtaking view of the vast rainforest below, the ponds, rivers, and the waterfall where we last made love. But the truth is undeniable: he awakens something deep within me, something primal.

I like this new side of him. Fuck, maybe I should hide things from him more often.

“What am I going to do?” he echoes thoughtfully, more like to himself rather than to me, his gaze drifting down to where my thighs press together, then back up to meet my eyes. “Strip, Claire. Take your shirt off and let it drop down. I want to see all of you.”

He lets me go, floating away from me faster than I can grip him and hold on for my dear life. For a moment there, I think I’m going to fall down without him. Then, I realize I stay in the air just fine.

The look he gives me is full of expectation, charged with anticipation and command. He challenges me, and the thrill of it adds an electrifying tension to the air. I can taste it in the wind.

With trembling fingers, I reach for the hem of my shirt. As I lift it over my head, the cool air brushes against my skin, and the shirt flutters away in the breeze like a fallen leaf.

“Mm, such a pretty liar you are,” he purrs, his eyes raking over me. Goosebumps rise on my breasts as the cool air teases my nipples. “Tell me, is your pussy still clenching after I ate it so well?”

He already knows the answer. He just wants to hear me say it.

“Yes,” I breathe, my eyes tracing the hard lines of his jaw, neck, and shoulders. He’s nearly as naked as I am, with only a thin piece of fabric clinging to his hips. It barely covers him, but I can tell he’s just as aroused.

“I’m going to make you come around my cock, Claire,” he murmurs, drawing closer. He floats like I do, but with more control. If I tried to run, he’d catch me effortlessly. “I’m going to make you writhe and spasm and salivate right here in the sky.”

I listen to him breathlessly, the pleasure from my last orgasm still spreading through me like liquid warmth. It’s delicious and inviting, and if I didn’t maintain a bit of self-control, I’d spread my legs right here to show Echo exactly what he’s doing to me.

But I doubt he’d appreciate that—he’s scolding me right now, after all. He wants to be the one in control, and honestly, that’s perfectly fine by me.

He reaches for his ravaged pants, loosening the laces at the front, which are somehow still holding together. With one swift move, he unties the strings, and his pants drop to the floor. His cock is... it’s enormous.

My eyes go wide thinking it was already inside me before. If I didn’t remember him stretching me so perfectly under the waterfall, I wouldn’t believe it. It’s just too big.

“I can feel your fear, my Little Soul,” he says. “I can feel it all the time. I can smell it, taste it in the air, taste it in the way your juices are still present on my tongue. You’re so drenched by it that it became a part of your identity. But don’t start fearing me now.”

“I’m not scared of you,” I manage to say, swallowing hard. “Not at all.”

“Are you sure?”

His nostrils flare, and I can see the tension in his body. Suddenly, in the span of a heartbeat, he’s right in front of me, his fingers tangling in my hair, tugging at my scalp. He inhales deeply at the base of my neck.

“Another little lie,” he whispers.

Before I can react, he spins me around. There’s no resistance as he does so. There’s no ground beneath me for my feet to rub against. There’s no gravity pulling me steady. There’s only the weightlessness, and now, him.

I gasp, a shiver running through me as his fingers trace my pubic mound. He pulls me close, his face buried in the nook of my neck, his other hand gripping my breast.

“Fuck,” I mutter, biting my lower lip. Yes, if this is what punishment for lying feels like, I should lie more often. Absolutely. He trails his tongue over my skin as if he likes the idea too—not the lying, but the delicious things he’s about to do to me because of it.

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he murmurs against my skin, nudging my legs open as his other hand teases my nipple. His fingers find my clit, pinching it just right, and my eyes roll back. “See? So sensitive...”

His point is crystal clear, and all I can do is moan, lost in the mix of his dirty words and dark, commanding presence. I’m dripping wet, my brain a haze, my body flushed with heat.

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