Page 43 of Love Galaxy

Another light thrust of my hips has her eyes fluttering closed and her legs parting again, releasing my trapped hand. I continue my exploration, through her hairs, to find wetness that feels more viscous than water.

“You create wetness.” I rub the moisture between two fingers, marveling at my new discovery. There are so many things I do not yet know about Briar.

“For you,” she agrees, her eyes glinting, her body trembling. “I’m always wet for you.”

My cock pulses, and I instantly tighten my hold, desperate to keep from spilling.

She laughs, pure joy once again, and sinks against my chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my throat, my chin, my temple, my lips, grinding against my hand between her legs.

I have one hand on my cock, one hand exploring her quim, and two hands holding her waist, kneading her perfectly smooth, perfectly flawless flesh. I would leave the imprint of my hands on her skin, if I could, so that she will forever be able to see where I have worshipped her.

Fek, I wish I hadsixhands—one for each of her heavy breasts, too. I bow my head instead and suck one taut nipple into my mouth. She arches against me, her moan filling the cave.

I come from listening to the sounds she makes, my cock jettisoning milt into the dark water. I am almost blinded by the strength of my own orgasm.

“Sorin. Sorin.” She kisses my brow, holding me tight, as my body shudders.

Between her legs, I continue stroking, teasing her cleft open and exploring what’s hidden. The pad of my finger slips over a small bump, and the results are instantaneous. Briar’s fingers dig into my shoulders, her blunt nails scratching against my scales. She throws her head back, her eyes pressed tightly shut.

With the light reflecting off the water, shadows flitter across Briar’s face, illuminating the pale dots that decorate her nose and cheeks, like stars across the night sky. Her hair is darker wet, and it clings to her throat before pooling around her shoulders.

Entranced, I fixate on the small bud between her legs—circling it, caressing it, relishing in the power I hold in my hand. Me. I have done this to Briar.

I speed up my movements, then slow them down, studying her reactions as she grips my shoulders, digging her fingers into my muscle.

“So close,” she pants. “Faster. Faster.”

I obey, keeping a firm pressure, but varying my movements–sometimes small circles, sometimes larger, always focused on her demands.

“Oh!” Suddenly, her body convulses. Her legs clamp around my hand. Her pleasure is beautiful. Stunning. Everything I could ever have wished for and never believed I would have.

This moment, I know, is imprinting itself on my very existence. Briar has altered the course of my life, and I will judge every moment from now until I die against this one event.

I can never return to who I was before Briar. And I will never wish to.

Around us, the water undulates, lapping at the cave walls.

“Do you think we don’t know what you’re doing?” John Smith’s voice bounces off the walls.

Briar splutters, releases my shoulders and sinks under the water. I tighten my hold on her waist, pulling her back up. She spits out water, coughing.

“Fucking hell!” Pink stains her cheeks and travels down her throat. “Pervert.”

She disentangles herself from my arms and swims back to shore, pulling on her dress. Immediately, the fabric sticks to her wet skin, outlining every curve. Interested, my cock twitches, so I hurriedly tuck it out of sight and follow Briar from the lake.

She has her arms crossed over her breasts, and she steps behind me, using me as a shield from the camera.

I puff out my chest and glare into the lens. “How long have you been watching?”

Silence follows. It is impossible to know if John Smith is still watching and refusing to answer, or if he has left. I turn to face Briar. She has her face in her hands and her head bowed.

“We shouldn’t have—” she starts to say, but I interrupt.

“Nothing John Smith can do or say will ever ruin my memory of today.”

“No?” She spreads her fingers and peeks at me through the gaps.

I shake my head, even as a pulse beats in my temple—that is how hard I am clenching my teeth, determined not to show Briar how much I want to kill John Smith. Were he here, I would wrap all four hands around his throat and squeeze the life out of him, as punishment for all the suffering he has caused my Briar.

---