Page 77 of Tusks & Saddles
“I—yes, Miss Eaves.”
Chapter Twenty
Beatrix
The reverence Welborn had for her name alone was doing terrible things to her.
Beatrix had been pleasantly surprised by that, but it wasn’t an unwelcome revelation. In fact, it made a lot of sense given her need for control. While her experience with sex had always been short-lived, Beatrix had always had to fight with the people she shared a bed with.
It wasn’t violent in the traditional sense. Rather, Beatrix typically found herself having to voice her wants and needs a lot more than she would have liked. It tended to make the encounters less enjoyable, and the realization that Beatrixneededto be the one navigating had shortened her list of potential suitors. Although, suitors wasn’t the right choice of words.
Bedfellows? Lovers? Short encounters, or perhaps vast disappointments. She supposed she was rather difficult in that regard. Beatrix had rules to sex. The biggest one being that she never removed her veil. It was her biggest deal breaker, so naturally, when Welborn had insisted she keep it on, she had all but fallen into his inexperienced hands.
Hands that were clutching her hips in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. It was adorable how eager Welborn was, though Beatrix reserved that train of thought. She doubted his ego would have appreciated the word, and Beatrix so wanted his first time to be the best it could.
If I can handle Gambler’s Luck without blowing off my fingers, I can certainly handle this beautiful boy.
“Just breathe, Welborn,” Beatrix instructed. “And let’s take off some of these layers, hmm? Is that all right with you?”
“Yes, Miss Eaves.”
Beatrix ached, but she focused on the task at hand. Underneath his robes and outer clothes was a decent bit of armor. Most holy types had armor, as they were willing to fight for their gods in the truest sense of the word. Yet, it was relatively unadorned with all the embellishments Beatrix had seen others wear. Clean and new, with no signs of major wear or evidence of battle. It was easy enough to find the fasteners and set them loose.
Peeling the armor from his body, Beatrix carefully placed it to the side. She adjusted the veil around them when she came back to rest firmly in his lap. The resulting whimper wasn’t lost to Beatrix as she reached for Welborn’s tunic. The small opening near the top hinted at more of his lovely ombre skin, beautiful shades of green that grew darker upon her inspection. Welborn’s breathing had grown even more labored, and they hadn’t even really started yet.
Moving slowly wasn’t just torturous for the cleric. It was taking everything within Beatrix’s disciplined mind not to tear the remainder of his clothes off. Welborn was lovely, slender, but solid beneath her gloved fingers. Despite the desire that grew in her belly, Beatrix was acutely aware of every move Welborn made.Every unsaid thing his body did was an indicator of his willingness to go down this road with her. And for any reason he needed to take a break or even stop, Beatrix was only happy to do so. His trust, his comfort—these were things she wanted to provide for him.
“Can I help?”
Welborn’s voice was weak, as if he was about to pass out, but his intentions were clear. His hands—shaky—came up to gently close around her gloved hands.
“Of course,” Beatrix said, softly. “Whatever you need.”
“Also—I…I know you value your privacy, but… can I see you, too? Like this?”
“How? How do you want to see me?”
The heat his body radiated could have warmed Beatrix throughout any cold desert night. Still, Beatrix was patient, and when he didn’t say a word, she was quick to help him.
“Tell me what you want to see, holy man,” Beatrix cupped his face in her hands, preventing him from avoiding her heavy gaze. “If you can’t use your words, use your hands.”
She wasn’t sure if it was the praise that did it or Welborn’s growing confidence in this newfound intimacy, but for whatever reason, his hands firmly cupped the sides of her breasts. It caught her off guard for a moment, but Beatrix couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her pleased mouth.
“I see,” she hummed. “Let’s fix this,hmm?”
He nodded.
Words might have escaped Welborn, but the speed at which he was able to pull the corset off of Beatrix was a little impressive. If Beatrix didn’t know any better, it was as if Welborn had been thinking about removing it from her for a while. After all, it was a custom-made bit of armor, yet his fingers had naturally found fasteners to lay the sophisticated piece next to his own armor.
It seemed to open the floodgates as Welborn’s hands rushed to remove more layers. Any hopes of slowing down for his sake had quickly been abandoned. The mutual need to see more skin, tofeelmore skin, was suddenly so much more important than whatever plan Beatrix had been crafting in her mind. Stripped down to their simplest of undergarments as Welborn enthusiastically kissed her neck and shoulders.
Beatrix couldn’t remember the last time she felt this kind of urgency. The kind of desire that needed to be extinguished before her skin caught on fire. That same burning passion was what caused Beatrix’s bare fingers to pull at the short hair at the back of Welborn’s head. The younger man gasped, lips tearing from the tops of her breasts as he stared up at her, a fog of lust obscuring his vision.
Helplessly, Beatrix kissed him, tongue caressing his until the need to breathe pulled her from him.
“I wanted to go slow, but I don’t think I can,” she panted.
“Don’t go slow, Miss Eaves, please. I don’t think I can stand it. I need—I need you, please.”
