Page 57 of Saving Destiny

Why did I wait so long to do this? My eyes drift closed and sensation assaults me. Tingles of electricity that resemble magic seem to skip over my skin like lightning. My clit feels swollen and throbs in time with my heartbeat. The ache is deeper, too. I feel empty and my hips shift restlessly.

“Avery ….” His name emerges from my lips with a whimper and his breath blows hot and fast against my skin. I feel his hands shake as they trail over my stomach and toward the waistband of my leggings. I expect him to stop at that point, but he doesn’t. The exploration continues over the curve of my hipbone toward my thigh. I stiffen, but it’s out of habit than protest. He’s waiting for me to stop him, but I’ve already reconciled with the fact that sex will include my guardians touching my legs. I force my body to relax again. With his other hand, he continues to tease my breast and nipple. It might be intended as a distraction, but it’s also a good reminder of what I can get if I don’t freak out while he explores my mangled legs.

Avery moves slowly and deliberately. His hand slides down my left thigh to my knee and then my calf as he continues gently teasing my nipple. I didn’t retain any permanent nerve damage, and my legs light up with pleasure at his touch. They’re not accustomed to any contact besides brutal, business-like massage, and that was years ago. It’s enjoyable to feel soft, sensual touch in my legs rather than pain.

After he explores my left calf, his palm slides up my inner thigh and my legs widen on their own. A whimper of leaves me when his deliberately slow stroke reaches the apex of my thighs. My hips squirm and I almost beg for him to stop at that juncture. Instead, his fingertips brush the top edge of my underwear through the thin fabric of my leggings before he starts gliding down my other leg. My cheeks heat with a combination of embarrassment and desire. My right leg is worse than the left, but his journey never falters. He surveys the shape and length of my legs with his fingers, and it feels similar to how he mapped the contours of my face.

When his hand starts upward again, I allow most of my lingering insecurities to melt away. He never comments or offers any indication that he’s bothered or disgusted. He radiates silent acceptance and the emotions are true because I sense them inside him as opposed to portrayed within his actions.

More comfortable now that he knows the truth of my body, my hands explore the ridges of his back in a similar fashion. Inwardly, I weep for the child who endured such horrible punishment. The scars are very specific and suggest a whip with more than one end. I thought whipping people with the so called cat o’ nine tails was abandoned in the seventeenth century, but Avery’s body suggests otherwise. Even Mother Mary used a fabric belt when she ‘whipped’ me; she wasn’t intent on leaving more marks on my body. Considering the vampire’s rapid healing, he must have been tortured repeatedly to create the kind of raised welts I can feel years later. I understand that I’m not the only one who has ever suffered but encountering evidence helps me feel less self-pitying.

Our frantic touches had slowed and cooled while we silently acknowledged each other’s pain, but the brush of his fingertips against my inner thigh reawakens my desire. I pull him toward me and greedily devour his lips; I want to kiss him so hard that our pasts disappear. The position realigns our bodies, and his stiff, throbbing erection against my hip reassures me that his examination of my legs didn’t banish his desire.

When he doesn’t react to the need in my kiss, I remind myself that he’s too polite to progress without implicit instruction. I tear my lips away from his with difficulty and draw in a ragged breath. “I’m ready for … more. I want more,” I whisper breathily.

Avery’s silvery eyes scans me in the familiar way they do when he’s studying my aura for my emotions and intentions. What he sees must satisfy him because his eyes flash briefly with crimson and his hand reaches for the waistband of my pants.

I don’t want him to undress me although I can’t say why; it just feels strange. I take charge of my clothes which allows him to release the zipper and button on his slacks. My heart pounds with anticipation, exhilaration, and the thrill of the unknown.

“Shouldn’t you use protection?” Kodi asks in a quiet whisper. He’s afraid to ruin the moment, but he’s also being my cricket of conscience – like in Pinocchio. His head isn’t fogged with desire and incapable of considering the common sense precautions I’m unintentionally ignoring.

I gulp. The common adage,‘If you aren’t mature enough to communicate about safe sex, you aren’t mature enough to do it’prods me into speaking. “Gilly says that sphinxes control their fertility cycles, so I can only get pregnant when I decide to. I haven’t been close enough to anyone else to have an infection or disease.” I’d confronted the goblin with a list of questions after seeing the legacy room. Part of my brain had connected the very spare childbearing ways of the sphinx with my irregular menstruation. Her explanation had fascinated me. I’m positive that many magicless women would love control over their fertility.

Avery’s gaze meets mine, and I’m always surprised at his ability to make decent eye contact. “Healthy supernaturals don’t contract the diseases and infections that plague the magicless. Nevertheless, I’ve always used protection because I was over-cautious.” His gaze flits away momentarily and a beautiful rosy tint colors his cheeks. “I wanted to save the experience of skin against skin for someone who mattered. You matter, Zosia, but it is your call. I will wear a condom if you ask me to.”

His words are honest and sincere and I automatically shake my head. Knowing he can’t see the gesture, I follow up with words. “It’s also up to you, but I’d rather we didn’t. I want to feel you.” I’m surprised that I manage to say the words without choking on them. I’m a grown-ass woman, I tell myself, but my uneasiness stems from inexperience. My school mandated a couple weeks of sexual education, but the online course had been clinical. It didn’t feel as if it related to authentic intimacy. The hundreds of books I read rarely mentioned the uncomfortable conversation that accompany sex.

“The bond would likely appreciate the lack of a barrier. Also, if you’d like, I can lessen the pain of your first entry with a small bite.” His tone is hesitant. I can’t believe that this beautiful man is nervous around me.

My reaction to his offer also surprises me. The idea should provoke the sense of fright or pain, but I shiver with excitement instead. I enjoyed the first time he bit me, but I’m reluctant to mute my first time with magic. “I’d rather you wait,” I say after I gather my courage. “I only get one first time, and I want to feel everything.”

He responds by nodding and kissing me again. The lack of fabric between us makes an intense difference. His body pressed alongside mine delivers a cascade of various pleasant sensations from my head to my toes.

I’ve watched a few movies with tame sex scenes. In them, the man shoves immediately into the woman before they’re fully naked. In stark contrast, Avery takes his time. He’s considerate and teasing as his hands explore my bare skin; his fingers repeatedly tease me by edging closer to my aching clit without touching. Everything we just discussed and the worries about my body fade into the background as I writhe, squirm, and thrust. My breath pants from me as his head moves down my body, placing kisses across my ribs until he’s kneeling beside me.

I devour the pale, smooth skin on display, noting the tight curve of his butt and the muscles in his thighs as he leans over and blows hot air over my most sensitive area. My breath catches. Is he going to …?

Loose wisps of white hair caress my thighs and abdomen as Avery bows his head and kisses my lower lips. He follows the press of his mouth with a gentle flick of his tongue and I actually scream at the sudden attention to my sensitive clit. His erect cock jumps between his thighs as if it has a mind of its own. I’m tempted to reach for it, but I’m uncertain what to do once I have it. Instead, I grasp his thigh while my other hand reaches absently toward Kodi. The vampire continues to apply gentle, teasing pressure to my throbbing center and his tongue occasionally flicks between my folds to stroke the tender nub.

I glance sideways when Kodi leans forward. His eyes are wide and he’s forgotten that he usually acts like he’s breathing because his chest is still. When Avery reaches upward to tweak my nipple, heat engulfs me and my back arches off the bed as I moan wantonly. I’m grateful Kodi is here with me … with us. It feels appropriate that he witness my first time because he’s my first love. He was with me through the awkward stages of puberty and my sexual awakening.

Perhaps our theory is correct and he’s feeling grateful too because his form flickers into colored solidity. I feel the brush of warm skin against my outstretched fingers instead of prickling static electricity. Knowing that I’m touching the man I love while the vampire I’m beginning to love treats me with such tender care brings me to the brink of a climax. My hips thrust upward, seeking more pressure and friction, and Avery understands my unspoken needs. His finger gently enters me, and my inner muscles clench around him.

My eyes roll closed but I force them back open because I want to watch both of my partners. The longing transfers to a desire for Avery to see the same. I act on impulse before I start to overthink it and ask Sage for the mirror Kodi suggested. The sudden reflection startles me, bringing me back from the brink of my orgasm, but my desire doesn’t wane.

I suppose it’s like watching porn even if I’m one of the actors. Deliberately ignoring my old injuries, I focus on the stark contrast of Avery’s silver-white hair against my copper skin. Kodi’s solid form flickers in and out like a neon sign, and I wonder what he’s thinking about. His hair shifts from reddish-blonde to gray then back again too quickly to track, and the brush of his skin feels like skimming a live wire without the pain.

Avery’s scars are dramatic – lurid magenta on his white skin – but they don’t detract from his beauty. For the first time, I begin to understand … and believe … that the men can find me attractive despite my scars and injuries. Before I can change my mind, I momentarily bridge the block in Avery’s sight. He gasps with surprise as his eyes meet mine.

Avery’s gaze roams over me, and he doesn’t hesitate when he scans my legs. I freeze with fright, wondering if I’ve just made a horrible mistake. What if he decides to leave? What if everything he said was untrue?

Chapter 30

Zosia

Idon’t have much time to wonder. The blatant awe on his face is almost unnerving. “You are so beautiful … so strong…,” he whispers. The emotion in his voice makes it crack, and I believe him.

“Thank you for sharing yourself with me,” he adds as his hands follow the path of his gaze. I find it hard to be embarrassed when he looks at me like this.

---