Tempest’s Fury

Then he kissed me, his lips gentle at first, then more demanding as I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tighter against me.

I licked at his lips, seeking entrance, and he let me in, growling as my tongue slid against his. Our kiss deepened exponentially and my hands found his hair, dragging him infinitesimally closer to me as if I couldn’t get enough.

Because I couldn’t, in truth, get enough.

Finally, however, he broke away. We stared into each other’s eyes, each of us panting.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “We’re not rushing things?”

I thought of how long we’d known each other, how long I’d wanted him, and how much he meant to me. My libido suggested I reach down and give him a wedgie for asking a stupid question, but I refrained.

“Yes,” I said, simply. “I’m very sure.”

And I raised my lips to his, again, and this time I knew there was no going back, for either of us.

He was the first to break our kiss, his hungry mouth finding the sensitive skin of my neck. Anyan’s jaw was rough with his usual light scruff, and I giggled as he tickled me inadvertently. The giggle soon turned into a gasp, however, as he sucked and bit gently at my neck, his tender ministrations growing rougher when I asked, breathlessly, for more.

My demands were silenced, however, by his mouth again finding mine as he moved on top of me.

I’d never wanted to be naked so badly in my life and I fervently wished that sudden nakedness was my superpower.

It wasn’t, however, but that was easily remedied. My legs wrapped around his hips as my hands went to his grey flannel button up, his fashion concession to the damp English weather. I unbuttoned it quickly, pulling it off of him when he let me go long enough to do so. Before he could wrap his arms back around me, I grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt—one he’d picked up here, advertising the Crufts dog show—and swiftly pulled that over his head.

My hands stroked down his chest, loving the feel of his warm skin. His chest hair crinkled under my palms, and I felt as if I could pet him all day. But when my fingers found his nipples, pinching lightly, the look of pleasure that suffused his face, along with the low, throaty growl he gave me, made me want so much more.

He kissed me again as I stroked his chest, his sides, his back, thrilling again at the moan he sounded when my fingernails raked lightly over his back. My hips rose against him as my thighs pulled him tighter to me. His teeth found my neck and I answered his lust with a deeper set of scratches down his back.

It was my turn to moan as his mouth sucked away the sting of his bite, and then he was pushing my shirt over my head. I made short work of getting my bra off, Anyan’s hungry eyes watching my body as I did so. Seconds after my flesh was bared to him, his mouth was at my nipples—sucking and pulling, nipping and biting—my hands buried in his hair as I pulled him tight to me, moaning a steady contralto in harmony to the aria of pleasure rushing through my body.

But what was good for the goose was good for the gander, and I’d wanted the barghest for far too long to lie back and let him have all the fun.

Using my puny arms and my powerful magic, I pushed him onto his back so my mouth could rove over his torso. I discovered, to my delight, that while his nipples were sensitive, so was his neck, and the taught skin over his ribs, and the softer flesh above his delicious hip bones. He responded to every questing foray of my mouth, tongue, and teeth with noises that set my body and my heart aflame.

I licked my way up his chest, back to his neck. Feathering my own kisses over his face, my hands went to work on his belt buckle. Busy returning my kisses and in no hurry, he let me fumble, his hands cupping my breasts while his fingers pinched gently at my nipples.

Finally his belt was undone, and then his pants. I had to pull away, at that point, kneeling next to Anyan as I carefully lowered his zipper. He was too big to blithely pull down his zipper without risking a trip to the emergency room.

Very, very big, I thought, as I finally had him unzipped. The tip of him winked up at me from where it had escaped his black boxer briefs.

You’re the champion, I reminded myself. You have to fight a dragon. You’re not allowed to be scared of a penis.

So I stretched out next to Anyan, my small hand reaching down to grasp him through his underpants. We both gasped at the contact, him in pleasure and me, shortly thereafter, in surprise.

For, after a few soft strokes, I realized that it was still growing under my hand.

“Jane,” Anyan said with a snarl, pulling my hand away for the few seconds it took for him to shimmy out of the rest of his clothes, including his socks. When he was naked, he lay back where he’d been, replacing my hand on his cock.

His skin was so hot, so soft and delicate over the hardness, and the tip so wet that my mouth watered. I was also, however, confronted again by the size of him.

Heroes do often walk like they just got off a horse, I told myself, while I tried to figure out the logistics of this situation. Maybe if I had some ribs removed, and rearranged my internal organs…

Some of my trepidation must have shown through in my gaze. Anyan stroked a finger down my cheek.

“Are you all right?”

I looked up at him, my hand still moving on him.

“It’s just… you’re rather large,” I admitted, feeling like an idiot.

He smiled a rather smug little moue, before his hand closed over mine on his shaft. He pumped our hands over himself, letting me feel all that hard flesh, closing his eyes as pleasure suffused his face.

Then he pulled my hand away before moving to flip me onto my back. He was over me again, kissing me as he began undoing my own jeans.

“I’m not that big,” he said, “but don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

When my jeans were undone his lips left mine. Then he knelt up, scootching backward till he could pull off my Converse and socks. Then I put my feet flat on the bed, lifting my hips obligingly as he pulled down my pants and my purple cotton thong.

When I was naked before him, his eyes feasted over me, followed by his hands roving over my body.

“The trick,” he said, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “is to get you as wet and ready as you can possibly be.”

I meeped, an undignified little sound that was about all my overtaxed brain could come up with. It made him smile again with a combination of hunger and affection, as his gaze locked on my mouth. His expression swiftly changed to one of feral hunger, so I was hardly surprised when he crawled forward just enough to bring his hard length within inches of my lips. His hands were still roving my body as I licked at him, loving his moans as my hand found him to draw him further in, caressing him with my tongue.

Anyan’s hands remained busy, and he was so much longer than me that he was barely even reaching to find the heat between my legs. Although it was still a shock when he first touched me, his thick fingers suddenly sliding between my slick folds.

“So wet,” I heard him murmur. I groaned my assent around his flesh, wondering if I’d ever been this turned on in my entire life.

But his clever fingers moving against me made me wetter still, and I wondered whether we’d need to build an ark.

When his fingers skidded against my clit, I was lost, and then those same fingers were inside of me, stretching me delightfully. My mouth lost him as my back arched, pleasure coursing through me.

Anyan took that opportunity to pull me up the bed, giving himself room to kneel between my thighs. His mouth on me made me gasp, then cry out, fireworks going off behind my eyelids. He had learned well, that night when his fingers had brought me, over and over, to the peak of my pleasure, before pushing me over the edge to let me tumble into orgasm. So his mouth moved against me with delicious confidence, knowing exactly what I needed to come.

But nothing had prepared me for what he did next.

At first I thought he was just using a glamour to muffle my nearly incessant whimpers, the touch of his power was so whisper-soft against my skin. The hairs on my body rose, but the feathering didn’t stop. If anything, it got stronger, more sure.

He’s doing it on purpose, I realized, as fingers of power moved over my flesh.

Stroking, kneading, tickling little hands caressed every inch of me, even as Anyan’s actual hands were anchored on my inner thighs, pinning me open as he feasted on my sex.

Lost in a haze of sensation, I felt ghost fingers pinch my nipples and stroke through my hair, while Anyan’s real fingers dipped into me. Another hand caressed my back; while another held my throat gently, possessively; and still other hands were on my buttocks, massaging them before spreading me to stroke intimately.

I couldn’t take it. I broke, shattering into a thousand pieces as my orgasm overtook me. And still those fingers worked me, sustaining my pleasure until I thought I really would break.

Pulling Anyan up by his hair, I kissed the smug smile off his face, tasting myself on his lips.

“Good gods, puppy,” I said, my voice harsh from crying out so many times. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Chuckling, Anyan answered me by spreading my thighs farther apart with his big hands.

“I told you,” he said, his iron-grey gaze latched on to my own eyes. “The trick is to get you so wet, so ready…” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">