Page 121 of Trick

Briar’s mouth hung open. Rapid puffs ejected from her, in pulsing tempo with her hand. From her clenched eyes and heaving chest, I saw how the slick flanks inside her started to constrict, clamping around her lunging fingers.

“You flatten your palms on the books,” I murmured. “Your hips sway faster against the jester’s hard fingers as they contort into that compact, intimate part of you.”

The bookshelf trembled. One of the tomes lurched toward the edge, in danger of toppling over.

Briar keened, matching the movements. Her waist circled against my pelvis, her fingers bobbed into her soaked body, and her face crimped with building pleasure. She hastened after that bliss, joining both hands now and hoisting them into her.

Briar bore into herself, her body twitching from the impact. Her mouth hung and emitted rough but silent moans, in sync with the cadence of her wrists. She worked her cunt keenly, relentlessly.

At last. She wasthere.

I dragged the flat of my tongue across the seam of her lower lip. “And because his vicious touch makes your pussy feel magnificent …” I leaned in, covered my palm over her mouth, and muttered quietly, “you cry out.”

Briar tensed, then splintered apart. Her folds tremored, firing down her limbs so roughly I felt it against my own. Endless moans slammed into my hand, her bones rattled, and her frame jolted into me. With her spine bowing toward the ceiling, and her digits lodged between her thighs, Briar came long and low.

My other hand choked the shelf as I hunched into her, savoring the texture of her sobs. Less than a foot from where she pounded into herself, my cock twitched painfully. Seasons, the stem was so hard it could chop logs in half.

My train of thought staggered, held captive by the sight and sound of the princess with her eyes slammed shut and her orgasm striking my palm. Her pussy would be thrumming, inflated, and flushed.

Another moment, and I would have exploded with her. That, without so much as fondling a single phallic inch.

Briar heaved into my palm until the sounds ebbed into a fine mist. She crumbled against the bookcase, the weight finally knocking that one precarious tome from its perch. Wheezing, she opened her eyes to glance at the fallen title, clarity returning.

She withdrew her fingers from the crux of her thighs. The skirt flapped back into place.

Her attention floated to me. “How am I … ever going to … research now?”

An amused chuckle jumped from my chest. “Blame me, sweeting.”

She laughed weakly. “I will, thank you.”

“You’reverywelcome.”

To that, Briar shook her head. “You are impossible.”

I snatched her wrists, brought those glistening fingers to my lips, and sucked them into my mouth. Her release seeped onto my palate. Briar blushed, watching in fascination as I tasted what she’d done to herself.

What could I say? This besotted jester couldn’t keep his hands off this magnetic princess. In an alternate reality, I would stay with her so we could take a victory lap, bring the fantasy to life for a second time. More innocent books would plummet. The entire library would quake off its hinges. And once we had our clothes back in order, she and I could investigate together.

In this reality, jesters and princesses thrived separately. Nonetheless, the desire to return her industrious efforts spurred me on. Of what was to come, I felt excitement.

Finally, our breathing evened out. We sank back to earth, echoes of the library drifting through the rows.

I kissed the tips of Briar’s fingers, relinquished her hands, and cradled her face, my thumbs stroking her cheeks. “Be studious but spare some mental energy for tonight.” When the space between her brows bunched in puzzlement, my mouth gave hers one more heated caress. “’Tis a surprise.”

28

Poet

Are you still with me? Splendid.

Except you might regret it soon. For I certainly did …

*

That evening, I dressed to slay. In a dramatic mood, I chose black and white from my wardrobe. I polished it off with filaments of kohl around my eyelids and added a sickle-shaped thorn vine to the corner of my left eye.

Second-guessing myself, I checked my appearance three times in the mirror.

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