Page 145 of Dare

And that lovely pussy, which clung to my cock. That pert clit, which swelled from her crease. Such a superb vision.

She waited for me, her eyes gleaming with too many unidentified emotions to withstand. Soft ones. Bright ones. I could not name them, but I experienced the brunt of their impact.

My equilibrium faltered. My heart ceased.

Standing over Flare, I shook my head in mystification. Grabbing her knees as if to steady my balance, I asked, “What is this look on your face?”

In Winter, citizens sneered at inexperience. They scorned one’s lack of knowledge, fluency, literacy.

Flare’s pupils glistened. “I think it’s the same thing staring back at me. Something I’ve never felt until now.” She smiled and covered my hands with hers. “I think it’s passion.”

What remained of my composure bled into the spring, purged like the ink that had entrapped her for nearly a decade. Without another word, I spread Flare’s knees and probed her with my cock. Flare’s skin pinkened, she slumped into the grass like a nymph, and her mouth hung ajar.

Everything came out. Moans. Cries. I jolted my hips forward, filling her pussy, thrusting to the hilt.

Suspended, I gave myself over to this. My gaze burned into hers, each of us watching the other.

My dick pumped farther, deeper, higher. Her core opened wider, wetter, warmer.

With prolonged movements, our waists rocked. I slid my palms to her hips and lifted them off the grass, altering the slope of my cock. This also changed the decibel of Flare’s moans, the noises compounding.

My stem broadened. The crown tapped that sweet spot within her, the angle of my body gliding freely.

Groans scraped from my throat. The pressure augmented, threatening to break me in half.

Make love to me.

I blew through my lips and used every joint, muscling into Flare, determined to satisfy her request. She snared my arms and arched into the air, her knees bending around my tireless waist, a scream wobbling on the tip of her tongue.

On the precipice, Flare cried out, “I’m going to come.”

“Then do it slowly,” I panted.

The rest came out hard, deliberate, authoritative. I’d spoken like a king. That’s how her pleasure made me feel. And no matter how this woman owned me, this rule I would not compromise on.

Her first.

Flare’s body trembled over the grass. Her pussy quavered, the supple walls clamping onto me, soaking my cock.

Finally, I surged forth. Velocity took over, my hips lunging, fanning out her things. While others made love only one way, we would do this in a thousand other ways.

Flare’s thighs clenched, trapping my hips. Her fingernails cut into my biceps. Like that, she pitched off the grass.

Then she unleashed into the canopy. With a holler, my little beast flung her orgasm into the air, the sound expansive. She came long and hard, and fuck yes. So very slow.

The nexus of her thighs convulsed. Her cunt pooled like a river down my cock.

I pumped, drawing out the sounds, encouraging them. As her wet flesh contorted around me, my groans stalled, a new noise pressing through my lungs. Heat rushed to my head, blood ruptured up my cock, and my lips unhinged.

I bellowed just as slowly, emptying into her, spilling my release.

We stared. And came. And came. Our moans tangled, then faded into the darkness.

Out of breath, out of mind, I hefted Flare off the grass. Then I yanked her into a hug.

44

Flare

---