Page 11 of Amidst the Insidious Courts
I do. My lashes flutter closed, shutting me in darkness, as he presses a kiss to my throat and strokes up the sides of my rib cage to cup my breasts. The horse rocks beneath us, her gait steady as he teases me through the layers of material that seemed like such a good idea in the face of a cold morning but are now in the way of the intimate contact I want most. Evidently Jaro feels the same, because he shoves aside the lapels of my jacket with an agonised groan, testing the weight of my breasts in his hands.
“I’ll buy you new clothes,” he promises a second before the fabric of my shirt rips loudly apart, followed by the lace hiding my breasts from view.
Goddess. The cool air on my skin is such a relief. My head falls back against his chest on a silent moan as Jaro’s hands finally touch me skin-to-skin. His lips lightly suck and kiss my neck as he teases my nipples to little points under the evening sun.
“So pretty,” he murmurs, his hot breath misting over the spot he kissed before his mouth descends to suck lightly at my throat, carefully avoiding the place I made bleed earlier.
“I want to feast on your tits every time I see them.”
He squeezes the soft flesh as he says it, causing a whimper to rise in the back of my throat. My hands tangle in the long length of his hair, tugging in silent demand as a now-familiar ache begins to pulse between my legs, and I squirm.
Our position makes it impossible, but I want his mouth there.
I’m trapped between the saddle and the erection pressing into my ass, so I settle for grinding against the latter, hoping to encourage him to move faster. The tightness coiled in my lower abdomen is getting worse. I need him to touch my clit. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, and the bud of nerves is pulsing in time with it, demanding his attention.
“More,” I demand, my voice so breathy I barely recognise it. “Harder.”
He obeys, massaging my breasts with firm caresses. They feel heavier than normal, and each squeeze alleviates a little of the ache. The brush of his callouses against my nipples is divine, and I arch into the touch. His teeth scrape against the column of my throat, drawing a whimper from me.
“Jaro.” I’m trying to stay quiet, but arousal is singing in my blood, liquid rushing to the space between my thighs. “Please.”
“Don’t beg, Rosie,” he murmurs, nipping the tip of my pointed ear in reprimand. “I’ve got you.”
One hand releases my breast, and a second later cool air floods my pussy. He’s ripped my leggings open, and the moment I’m exposed, his palm slides inside the remaining fabric to cup me boldly.
God, his skin is so warm, scorching even. Wherever he touches, the tightness retreats, replaced by desire.
I thrust my hips forward, grinding my clit into the heel of his hand with a kind of wild desperation. I need to come. I need it more than air. He groans as I work myself higher and higher, letting me gasp and tremble against him. A moan falls from my lips as two of those thick fingers plunge straight into my sopping wet core. Thrusting and tugging at that hidden spot.
That’s all it takes. I fly apart, pussy clenching hard around the intrusion as my body falls slack against his chest.
He doesn’t stop. The heel of his palm grinds harder, as his fingers force their way in and out of my spasming, pleasure-soaked sex, drawing out my peak until another approaches just as fast.
“Keep going,” he urges. “Again, Rose. Come for me again.”
The fingers of his other hand pinch my nipple hard, providing a hint of pain that blooms sharply against the backdrop of bliss.
Odd how that, of all things, should be the sensation to send me spiralling over the edge.
This time, I scream as I come, and I hear a quiet curse from in front that makes my eyes fly open.
“Hey, don’t worry about them,” Jaro murmurs, pulling my face to his and stealing a kiss that distracts me.
When he draws back, he gently pries my fingers free from his hair and rubs my arms to restore circulation to them. “You were perfect.”
“Beautiful,” Lore echoes, and I look up, startled to find him perched on the back of Blizzard. “I think she could come again. Don’t you agree, Huntsman?”
Drystan’s head doesn’t turn. “Get. Off. My. Horse.”
A blade is poking Lore in the ribs, I realise belatedly, as my eyes catch on the wicked silver glint.
“Hey, it’s not my fault. This was the best seat for the show.”
“Redcap.” Drystan’s knife digs in sharper. “I mean it.”
The relaxation of before begins to fade, replaced with anxiety at the promise of violence. As strange as it sounds, I’m used to Lore pulling blades out and threatening people, but not Drystan doing the same. Jaro’s arms tense around me, and I know he’s sensed my unease down the bond.
“Ignore them,” he whispers, rearranging me in the saddle so I’m sitting across it, and pulling me into a full-body hug. “Drystan threatens Lore with death at least half a dozen times a day. It doesn’t mean anything.”
