Page 21 of Beneath Hoof and Hollow
Fierdon’s movements halt. “Oh, sweet nightingale, how little you know about pleasure.” His finger presses inside and some of the pressure between my thighs is instantly relieved. “How much I have to teach you.”
I give in fully when a second finger joins in.
“You liked watching me murder those men.” He’s right. There was an unexpected thrill watching him. Not because he was killing, but because he was delivering justice. And he was doing it for me.
There seem to be more places within me to touch, areas that did not exist before this spell-filled eve. The sensations are so foreign. I feel like an observer to my own pleasure, watching from high above as invisible fingers steal my sensibilities and replace them with the raw need to be devoured by touch.
I’ve never been so aroused. When Fierdon used his mouth before, I was still in such disbelief. The pleasure caught me by surprise. I didn’t allow myself to really enjoy it. This time, Isubmit to every touch, stroke, tip of the finger as I’m thoroughly explored like Fierdon’s life depends on it.
Being touched while aroused is so different than doing it purely out of duty. Submitting whenever Leed’s needs were to be met wasn’t terribly unpleasant. There’s something about a masculine body, heavy atop you, making sounds of lust, that triggers the feminine desire to be protected and claimed. But I would never say that the actions were meant to do something pleasant for me.
Right now, Leed’s past wants and actions vanish from my thoughts. I have needs I never knew existed, and Fierdon is stroking some part of me that’s making me see the burning light of the sun in the dead of night.
Chapter Nine
The Horseman
My nightingale is no virgin, but her cunt flows as if she’s never been touched. Never been sated, perhaps. She thought the orgasm I gave her with my tongue was some type of muscular or medical ailment. There is a ring on her left finger. Where is that man tonight? The better question is, why does my little bird know so little about her own body?
My fingers curl upward as the heel of my palm presses against her clit. The reaction is instantaneous. Her body shudders, not a full climax, but something sinful enough to have her mouth falling open and an unfiltered moan rolling forward.
“Do you want more?” My cock jumps when she nods. “Everything?”
Pulling her lip between her teeth, she considers. It doesn’t take long. Her eyes are hooded, swimming with desire. “Yes.”
Lifting her by the hips, I urge her legs to wrap around my waist. When my cock nudges her entrance, her eyes fly to where mine would be if they were visible.
“No. Watch.”
She shifts her gaze between her thighs to where my thick cock is slowly impaling her. It’s fucking glorious. Even though my body is invisible to the naked eye, its effects are obvious. Her pussy parts, slowly stretching wider as I fill her. I tilt her hips up, allowing me to better see inside. Every hidden, wet part of her spreads as I plunge deeper.
She’s silent, mouth open.
Her walls grip me with such force, my breath snags in my throat. Her muscles fight, whether to push me out or pull me in tighter, I cannot tell. All I know is she is squeezing every inch of me so intensely that I have to force myself not to come.
Emeline stares down, eyes wide at the sight of herself being spread open. Has she never studied that part of herself? Never pleasured her own body?
She gasps, fingers digging into my shoulders as I push deeper. My thumb runs through her arousal and presses against her clit, grinding against it with steady pressure. It relaxes her. When I feel her wallsbegin to flutter, I start to move.
I’msatisfied enough with pushing in to the hilt. That move was all for me. Now that it’s time to focus on my nightingale, I shift to short, firm thrusts, only putting my first few inches inside. My thumb remainsin motion, gliding across her clit as I fuck straight into the spot that I’d bet she didn’t know existed before me.
Emeline’s moans are tinged with a raw desperation that draws me closer to my own climax. Out of my peripherals, I catch sight of the mounted heads from my little killing spree. We have an audience. Dead eyes watch us. Fucking hell, it makes me harder than before.
Do not focus on dead things whenyou’refucking the living. A reminder that should not have to be thought. I doubt my nightingale knows just how twisted I am.
“Sing for me, nightingale. Show me how good I make you feel. Thank me for killing all those bad men for you.”
“Thank you, thank you.” Her words match the pace of the rough snap of my hips. “Thank you, thank you, thank…you.” The final syllable scrapes out of her as a guttural sound of pleasure tears out from between her trembling lips.
My gaze shifts to her open core. I can see the muscles tightening. Arousal coats my shaft, momentarily giving it a visible physical form. I need a visible body. There’s something erotic about seeing inside my little bird, but when I take her from behind or when I fuck her face and come across those soft, bouncing tits, I want toseeit.
Cum races out of me, so hot and fast that a sharp pain tugs at my balls as they empty. Emeline’s heavy-lidded eyes snap open, clarity overtaking them as she feels me filling her up.
“Did the man who gave you that ring never flood your pussy until it spilled back down his cock?” The words crunch out of me like gravel as my climax finishes.
“Leed always finished on the sheets,” she pants out, her voice deeper than usual.
Leed, is it? The perfect name for an idiot husband who would rather spill himself on the sheets than into a soaked, screaming woman. No wonder Emeline knows nothing of sex.
