Page 67 of Lore of the Tides

She dipped her head down to place him in her mouth. She’d never done this before. Had never wanted to give anyone pleasure with her mouth before; but right now, there was nothing more in the world that she desired.

He was so large she had to stretch her mouth to fit all of him, but she did so eagerly. Encouraged by his groan of pleasure, she teased him, like he had her, circling the tip of him with featherlight licks. He gasped and shifted his hips forward. She loved that. She opened her mouth wider for him, and Finndryl groaned, fisting his hands in her hair as he slowly eased his hips forward, gently sliding along her tongue until the head of him pressed against the back of her throat. Lore moaned in encouragement when he began to rock himself back and forth.

Her core pulsed in response to his barely controlled movements inside her mouth.

She wasn’t aware that giving pleasure could elicit her own, but she was having to stop herself from reaching down to circle her own bundle of nerves, to assuage the throbbing, so she worked his shaft instead.

She glanced up at him, expecting to see his eyes closed, but his gaze was fixed on her, watching her take the entire length of him as if she were the most beautiful thing in the world and he couldn’t look away if he tried.

She began to suck on his length, and he let out a groan, which, Lore decided, was the greatest sound she’d ever heard, and she craved more. She bobbed her head faster and faster, finding her rhythm, sucking his length with enthusiasm as her hand pumped his shaft. “Godsdamned, Lore,” he grunted. “You’re perfect. A fucking treasure.”

She was down on her knees in the sand before Finndryl, and she’d never felt so beautiful, so powerful, as his erection pulsed in her mouth from the pleasure she was gifting him.

She sucked harder, twisting and squeezing his base. One of his hands fisted tighter in her hair, and the other flew out to grab onto a bookshelf to keep upright as his eyes closed. “Fuck, Lore, Lore, love, I’m close,” he warned, giving her a chance to pull off him now, but she craved the taste of him. She continued her rhythm until he grunted, his thighs tensing, as warmth surged into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. She moaned as she swallowed each spurt; gods, she couldn’t get enough of him.

Finndryl hissed, sliding himself out of her mouth, and lifted her up to him, wrapping his arms around her waist to lift her up and press his lips to hers, kissing her slowly, his lips soft and sweet.

As she basked in this kiss, Lore thought, this was it; this must be bliss.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” he murmured as he set her downgently on her feet. “What I wouldn’t do to squirrel you away in a room right now. I ache to keep you all to myself.”

Lore bit her lip. It felt swollen from kissing Finndryl; she squirmed with desire. “I wonder if we could find one?” she asked as she stepped back into her underthings.

“At this point, I’m considering banishing the queen from her own rooms.”

Finndryl fastened the strings on his trousers before he pulled her toward him and placed a crooked finger under her chin, tipping her face upward. He kissed her softly, slowly, instilling the promise of what would come if only they had more time alone, together.

Lore wished more than anything that they were not here, but somewhere just the two of them. She wanted to explore every inch of him, learn every contour and sharp angle of his lithe body.

The glowing lights of the library that bobbed and wove above them flickered and went out.

“The pearl failed,” Lore gasped and opened her eyes wider in the complete and utter darkness. They were cloaked in pitch-black water—water that she could not feel a moment ago, but now, robbed of sight, felt oppressive.

Lore broke away from Finndryl, crouched down, scooped up her grimoire, and gripped it tightly to her chest. It was daytime, and the tome would not help her create magic, but she felt better with the book in her possession, even if she couldn’t see.

“Do you remember the way back to the library’s entrance?” she asked Finndryl. Her words felt trapped behind a knot in her throat.

She was starting to loathe the dark.

He gripped her hand tightly, and the knot in her throat eased slightly.

“I don’t, but I’m confident that I can—”

Whatever Finndryl had been about to say was lost in an explosion, a shattering of something massive—it sounded like the library’s glass ceiling.

Chapter 22

With a growl, Finndryl enclosed Lore beneath him, wrapping his arms around her, protecting her body with his own, but not before a jagged shard of glass sliced her cheek.

As the lights around them flickered back to life, Lore peeked through splayed fingers that burned in the salt water from tiny cuts.

Most of the glass floated harmlessly around them; but a few unluckily angled slivers managed to pierce Finndryl’s leathers. He winced as he straightened to a standing position, but his expression remained stoic. Lore shook with fear as she began to search his clothes, pulling out larger chunks of glass, looking for signs of blood. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I’m more concerned with what caused the glass to break.”

Lore wondered that too.

Some of the pieces of glass scattered around them, piercing through books and scrolls on the shelves and stuck firmly in the sand, were so large... Lore swallowed hard. If they had been on land, the larger pieces of the glass ceiling would have pierced through them before they had a chance to realize what was happening.

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