Page 77 of The Princesses of Ruin
“I’m sorry. I meant…thank you. Thanks for cleaning the cum out of your pants.”
I mumble what could pass for a laugh. “Pants still dirty.”
She looks up at me with a wicked smile. “Oh, well then, we better take them off, so you don’t ruin all the work of your snow bath.”
I swallow hard and nod.
She sits up, making my hands slide down to her thighs, and takes off her sweater. She rolls it into a ball and puts it behind my head. I smile at the kindness, touching her softly as she pulls back.
Her warm hands roam the expanse of my stomach as she slides down my body until her hips are over my knees and her fingers are hooking the band of my over-pants. My once numb fingers weave into her chocolate-colored hair.
She plants a kiss on my reddened skin where I’d scrubbed with a particularly harsh chunk of ice. Her lips are like a branding iron. I wish they would leave a permanent stain on my skin, marking me as hers.
Her eyes meet mine as she kisses lower, just above my waistband. The eroticism of the act and the dominance in her stare has my cock stiffening to the point of pain. Her fingers work the buttons one by one, a kiss from hip to hip with each popping free.
She pulls on my pants until the shallow “V” of my muscles give way to dark pubic hair. I flex my hips and my cock bobs behind my underpants, caught on the tip.
Emillia palms me through the thin cloth and the breath rushes out of me with a curse. She doesn’t lift her head, but her eyes meet mine again. She rubs up and down my length, then swishes her thumb over my head. The sensation of her body so close to mine is maddening, intoxicating, all-consuming. I cup her cheek just to feel more of her. She leans into the touch, nibbling the meat just below my thumb.
“You’re not going to come immediately when unsheathed?”
I smile. “It’s to be seen.”
She hooks her fingers under the band of my underpants and pulls them away from my hips. The cool air on my erection reminds me of my snow bath, and a shiver trickles up my spine. She urges the underpants down and I lift my hips to help her.
Now I’m bared to her, just as she was to me last night. She looks her fill, taking in all there is to see from tip to base to balls. Her hand slides over my thigh and the hair on my leg raises in response. She doesn’t touch me, though, and I wonder if she’s waiting.
My voice hardly above a whisper, I say, “If it’s permission you’re seeking, you have it.”
The hand at my thigh slides across my pelvis and grips my shaft. I curse at the firm warmth of her hand. It’s not soft like my own pampered alchemist’s hand. She’s a hunter, a sea captain, and her callouses are proof of her prowess. Their toughness isn’t unpleasant. Her grip feels sturdy, like there’s no give to be had.
Her eyes meet mine again and she pins my erection to my stomach, then—
Spits.
Her saliva slaps the underside of my cock with a wet sound that burns a fire in her eyes. I’m not certain how I feel about the act. She bites her lip, waiting for my response.
“Again,” I urge, trying to get a feel for whether I like to be spit on.
She gathers saliva in her mouth and positions herself over my head. The slow drip coats my tip, strings of it still connecting to her mouth. Blood surges through my groin and I flex involuntarily.
“That’s what you like,” she murmurs and I nod.
I do like it.
She pumps once, moving her saliva across my shaft. The drag of her callouses is too much, and I grit my teeth before I can stop myself.
“Sorry,” Emillia whispers, then drops her lips to my cock.
Her hot tongue flattens at the base and drags all the way up to the head in a long, luxurious stroke. A moan breaks from my chest, and she smiles. She licks me again, her tongue stopping to flick the sensitive area just under my head.
With my cock properly wetted, she pumps me again. This time, she glides effortlessly, and the pleasure comes just as easily. She meets her fist with her mouth and my fingers tense in her hair reflexively.
Her name falls from my lips like a prayer, whispered just for her. She swallows my cock down and my eyes wince shut as I groan. The ecstasy doesn’t end, her mouth moving over me again and again. I fist the bedroll in my other hand to keep from pulling too hard on her hair.
Wet sucks and gentle moans urge me closer to the edge, but I hold myself back, reciting the ingredients for a perfect wakefulness potion. The pleasure edges into my focus and I change potions, moving on to something more difficult.
My toes are curling and unstoppable grunts burn up my throat as she works me with the same devotion I’d shown her. She pulls me back, leaving me gasping for air and begging for more.
