Page 35 of Crescent Warrior

He licked his lips and she felt a drop of moisture leak down the side of her pussy. His eyes focused on it and he ducked his head, lapping it up and then going back to the source.

He settled under her, spreading her legs even wider, seeming to be making himself comfortable. She cried out, gripping his hair to anchor herself as he dove his tongue straight inside her.

I don’t think I’m going to survive this.

“Cole,” she gasped, her fingers tunnelling into his hair, tugging hard. “More.”

He gave her more, fucking her with his tongue, moaning happily. He trailed both his hands up her body, exploring her with his fingers. When he got to her breasts, he cupped them, giving them a delicious squeeze, pinching her nipples.

She cried out, rocking harder against his face. His eyes met hers, his pupils fully dilated, intense and burning with lust.

As he latched onto her clit to suck, she came so hard she thought she was going to die, her vision going dark, her lips parting on a soundless scream, and her head kicking back, making her wonder if she accidentally gave herself whiplash.

She felt the orgasm through her entire body, pleasure wracking her from head to toe. Her legs tightened around his face as she rode it out and she wondered if she was strangling him, her thigh hold one of her strongest, but when she settled, her legs falling wide again, he was still sucking away, his eyes closed now, seeming to be loving his new position.

“No more,” she moaned, her head twisting from side to side, her clit too sensitive for stimulation. He growled as he lapped at her, clearly refusing to move, but she pushed his head away. He gave her thigh a little nip in retaliation that made her giggle.

Dear Gods, a few orgasms and I sound like a schoolgirl.

He pulled her toward him and she stiffened, wondering what he would do next, but he seemed content to hold her, spooning her against him and covering her with the blanket once more, his fingers stroking leisurely over her stomach.

Biting her lip, she peeked back at him and was met by his satisfied smile. That wasn’t possible, though. He still hadn’t come. Tucking her hips back a bit more, her ass pressed against his leaking cock. He hissed, pulling away.

“Sorry,” he groaned, clearing his throat. “It’ll go away on its own, don’t worry. It has practice.”

He laughed humorlessly but settled back into cuddling her, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder. Curious, she reached behind her, gripping his cock. He groaned, stilling her hand with his own, burying his face against her skin.

“No, it’s okay. It’ll go away.”

“I want to touch you,” she whispered, and he swallowed hard before releasing her.

With slow, tentative strokes, he was gasping, his hips thrusting forward. She turned, watching his face. His eyes were blazing again, the heat searing her.

“My Lyta,” he groaned, leaning forward for a kiss.

Their tongues tangled as she reached down to explore more of him, sliding her free hand down to cup his balls. He cried out against her lips, his hips thrusting faster as she massaged them.

They felt heavy and tight, but the skin was so soft. She wanted to taste them, but didn’t want to give up the chance to tick ‘hand-job’ off her sexual bucket list. He was breathing like a freight train now and he had to pull away from her kiss, burying his face against the pillow next to her.

“Lyta,” he gasped, “My Lyta.”

With those words, he tensed and she looked down in time to see his huge cock get even bigger, his come shooting over her fingers and onto her stomach. She used both hands now, rubbing them up and down his thick girth, even as they were covered in creamy liquid.

He kissed her neck, whispering thanks and praise, sucking on her skin and making her moan. As his hips slowed their rocking, he tangled his tongue with hers again, kissing her so deep it took her breath from her.

He used a hand to spread his come on her stomach and pussy. She whimpered at the possessiveness of the gesture, turning her head away to gasp for breath. He pressed gentle kisses to her throat.

“Shower?” he murmured.

She didn’t bother to answer, just wrapping her arms around his neck. He chuckled, lifting her into his arms, carrying her. When he settled them both on one of the marble benches built into her shower, she snuggled closer while he fiddled with the heat of the water.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he turned to her, stroking her hair back from her face and neck.

“I should be thanking you.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, burying her face against his neck again. She still had the overpowering urge to throw him to the ground and ride him for hours, but for now, the orgasms were tiding her over and she would be able to get some sleep.

“Lyta,” he started, his voice low and intimate. “I’m sorry.”

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