Page 13 of Heir of Autumn
Sylvain bowed his head. My heart fluttered with joy. But his head bowed lower, and lower than usual, his hands hooking under my thighs, pushing them so my legs dangled in the air. What in the world was going on?
And then he parted my ass cheeks, brought his mouth close, and licked. My muscles tensed, my breath seizing. His lips kissed, his tongue swirled. And as the fireworks exploded in the back of my head, I understood.
“Oh, holy shit,” I gasped, my entire body trembling. “Fuck, Sylvain, you’ve never — oh, gods. Have you been holding out on me?”
His head came up, his moist lips curved into a smirk. “I can do this, or I can talk. Choose one, oh summoner.”
“Keep going,” I whined, edging further down the bed, a desperate animal. “Please, Sylvain, keep — oh. Oh, gods. Yes. Right there.”
This wasn’t anything I ever gave much thought, and it happened rarely enough in my own sex life that I didn’t even think to seek it out. Maybe it wasn’t as good, all those other times. Sylvain’s mouth and tongue were on overdrive, tasting and teasing my hole like he had something to prove. He really was very good at this. Gods, he really was the best sex I’d ever had.
I bore down against him, greedy, breathless, wishing I could scream for more, except that my voice had left me. My soul had gone somewhere else, too, driven out of my body, my living essence hovering somewhere in the clouds, ecstatic and writhing. And still Sylvain licked, and fingered, and kissed. I didn’t want this to end. I was in fucking heaven, or somewhere like it.
And then he wrapped his fingers around my cock.
“Fuck, Sylvain. Oh, fuck. Not there. Not yet.”
He pulled away for the briefest of moments. I immediately wanted to beg him for more.
“Do you concede now, little human? Look how I made you wriggle and squirm. I’d like to see a merman who can do that.”
My eyes squeezed shut, fighting the urge to come. My voice came out of me in a wordless trickle, water spilling down the side of a hill, a gurgling stream. I wanted to tell him that I wanted more — no, needed more.
But a drawer slid open, slid shut. I opened my eyes, vision blurry, feverish as I followed his hands, the familiar motion of a bottle being unstoppered. Seconds later, oil-slick fingers probed at my hole, preparing me for more. I was so sensitive already, so close to exploding. How much longer could I possibly last?
Sylvain shoved himself inside me, his hugeness stretching me out, filling the void of my desire. Not much longer, apparently.
“Nearly there,” I said, hands back above my head again, too afraid to touch myself, to touch him. “Don’t want it to be over. Not yet.”
He pumped and plowed in a steady, brutal rhythm, eyes locked with mine.
“I’m close, too,” he said, breath hitching. “Finish when you like, little human. We can go again, and again, and again.”
Every repetition of the word came with another excruciating thrust, all the way down to the hilt. I couldn’t bear it. My legs wrapped around Sylvain’s waist, locking him close, willing him without words to plunge faster, harder, deeper. He gasped, then gritted his teeth, intoxicated by the notion that I wanted him so badly, so fully.
“Fill me,” I groaned, up to the ceiling, up to the sky.
I squeezed my thighs around him harder, pulling him in tight, deep. Sylvain rasped, groaned, shuddered, spasming as I locked him in place. Gods, I never, ever felt fuller, more satisfied than when I was with him, above me, inside me, all over me. I kissed him, and he returned it weakly, lips and tongue loose, like all the fury had finally left him. I laughed, patted him on the chest, released him at last.
Sylvain flopped backward onto the bed, arms above his head, sipping careful, slow breaths through pursed lips like his body was fighting to replenish everything I’d sucked out of it.
“Now, just to be clear,” he said. “I have no qualms with you admiring the male form. Even if it isn’t my male form. I just — gods, that was glorious — I just sensed that you wished for me to play jealous and ravish you, and so I did.”
“Mm,” I said, running a finger down the sweat-glazed dip in his chest. “I do so like being ravished, oh mighty prince.”
He chuckled and swatted my hand away playfully. “You’ve only just exhausted my energies, oh summoner. Give me a moment’s respite.” He ran the heel of his palm up the bridge of his nose to his forehead, panting, but trying to ground himself in reality. “Let me rest, and perhaps I’ll have strength for more later.”
I blinked at him, an intriguing idea forming in my head. “Well, do you mind if I suck your cock while you do?”
Sylvain chewed his bottom lip, biting back a delighted smile. “Be my guest.”
And so I did, spurred by the little growls that rumbled from his chest, the roughness of his fingers as they brushed at my nape. I held his gaze as I worked, watching as his eyes swam in and out of focus, the gold of them changing hue as his arousal deepened, or heightened.
I was glad Sylvain knew I only had eyes for him. Maybe we would meet some hot merfolk in the Oriel of Water. Maybe not. It didn’t matter. I’d always come home to his cock, his face, his body.
Sylvain pushed himself up from the mattress, rock-hard and ready. He placed his fingers under my chin, gently removed himself from my mouth, hissed at the sensation of his cock dragging against my lips. I knelt on the bed, enticed by the wavering of his engorged cock.
“Are you ready for more?” I asked.
