Page 91 of Touch

Then waits. Then keeps going.

Love traces the hard grid of his abdomen before her index finger moves along the inclines of his hips. Blood rushes to the center of her body, her cunt throbbing like a pulse as she considers the possibilities.

But then Andrew’s hand lands atop hers. Grasping her wrist, he guides her fingers to his cock.

Love pauses, sheepish as she glances up. From the shadows, pewter irises glint at her like bottomless wells. He watches her through famished eyes, which shudder when she encases him in her grip. He’s thick and heavy, his crown smooth.

The image whets her appetite. The rough sound of his groan is even more appealing.

Folding her digits around his erection, Love bends forward, her thighs straddling his waist. On a helpless sigh, she takes his mouth and tongue, their lips clutching. It’s a precious, passionate kiss. They draw deeply on one another, as though sucking on air, their tongues entwining.

Breaking away, Love makes an erotic journey, branding herself on him. From mouth to neck, pectorals to biceps, and down the contours of his torso. She enjoys the way Andrew’s cock bucks against her and the gritty noises he makes, as if he’s swallowed sandpaper.

He reaches out to snatch Love, to lunge upward and pry her open. However, she’s too swift, seizing his wrists and nailing them to the mattress. Never releasing her prey, she lingers on his rapt gaze and then slithers down his frame, her lips searing his flesh from the base to his crown.

“Patience, mortal,” she croons against the tip.

Then she straps her lips around the pome and gives a tender suck. And Andrew is lost. The mortal’s head flings back, the word “Fuck” cutting from his mouth. Spurred by the reaction, Love moans around the top of his cock and exerts pressure, her tongue flicking over the line and tasting salt.

Stars. She’s parched.

Lowering her mouth, she consumes more of him, every inch sinking between her gluttonous lips. Andrew’s growls become rhythmic, each one harsher than the next. His hips snap gently, working in cadence with her mouth.

Love siphons the upright flesh, its width expanding around the swipes of her tongue. His moans escalate in volume, as uncontrolled as his movements, his waist hurling toward her waiting lips. At some point, their fingers interlock overhead, and his pleasure becomes her pleasure.

The lips of her pussy dampen, provoked by his shouts. Feeling downright possessive, she sucks harder, swivels her tongue, and laps at the crease in his crown. Bobbing her head, tugging on him, Love discovers another method of touch that never existed until this man.

Rushing her mouth over his length, she’s careful not to bite. At least, not repeatedly. That infraction occurs only once, her canines grazing his flesh until Andrew hisses, the flavor of blood seeping on her palate to mix with his semen.

Her thoughts evaporate. She finds herself in a dreamscape, a state of jubilation. Voracious, she dines on the mortal, licking the fluid, tightening her mouth around him.

“Love,” Andrew grunts before going still, then combusting.

His bellow fills the cottage. His cock spasms, cum spilling down her throat like wine. Smooth. Inebriating. An indulgence that could turn into a habit, if she isn’t careful.

Except she’s already breached that line. And she does not care.

The instant Love frees his cock and wrists, Andrew is on her. With a rasp, he seizes her waist, hauls her upward, and flips her over.

Love’s back strikes the mattress. Instinctively, her thighs spread, and her calves link around his ass. Her mouth curls into an eager grin, then she falters as Andrew hovers above, his pupils enameled in pure black.

“Mine,” he whispers through his teeth.

His. It’s enough to wring a grief-stricken noise from her chest. This man has defied celestial law, thwarted destiny itself, made a mockery of the stars, and challenged every notion that’s been bred into her. He sees her, knows her, hears her. By the Fates, he can touch Love.

Her body. Her soul. Her heart.

All of these, he has penetrated. That makes him more powerful than any deity in existence.

But Love shall never be his. As Andrew shall never be hers.

Yet. The word comes out like a vow. “Yours.”

His eyes flare like beacons. With a groan, Andrew slings Love’s thigh higher over his hip and snaps his waist. She keens, her spine arching. His long, firm cock pistons inside her, filling that empty place.

This should not be possible. Love has witnessed countless targets copulating, and rarely does the male possess enough vigor to remain erect after oral sex. But then, Andrew has only ever subverted expectations.

Her pussy clenches his skin, saturating it in her arousal. In slow but fitful motions, he rolls his ass, urging moans from her mouth.

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