Page 117 of Veiled Flames
I want to lick it all off. I want to explore every part of Rosomon. I long to learn and worship every part of her.
Leaving the trainers alone for a moment, I slide my hands up her body to gently cup her round paps. Holding her there, I kiss her. Her lips are hungrily eager, but I keep our kiss gentle and slow.
As I fondle her paps and tease her nipples, I luxuriously allow our lips and tongues to intertwine, as if savoring the sweetest delicacy. And I am. To me, Rosomon tastes better than the finest chocolate imported from Sidonia, or the richest sweet cream from Achotia.
Sheisthe sweetest cream from Achotia.
I can’t say these things aloud. Not without risking rejection. And my outsized emotions, which have come far too soon, might scare her—or turn her away from me. My emotions scare me too.
I must keep tonight about pleasure. All about experimenting and playing with her limits.
“I have an idea.” I hover my lips over hers. “Do you think you can hold the trainers inside, if you stand? Let’s see how it feels when you walk.”
“Do you mean walk with both trainersinsideme?” Her eyes reveal surprise, but also some interest.
I love how curious she is. How adventurous. Like me, Rosomon wants to ride dragons, but as a woman, her desire is beyond exceptional. I can’t express, even to myself, how much I admire her for that. How much I admire her strength and determination.
As she moves onto her hands and knees, I help her, cognizant that she’s carrying two heavy marble stones inside her. She crawls, and every time she moves—even slightly—I bear witness to the impact as it shows in her eyes. When her hands reach theedge of the mattress, I take mercy on her, scooping her into my arms and setting her feet on the ground.
“Oh!” She squeezes her legs together. “I fear the big one will fall out or force the smaller one to.”
“Try to hold them in.” I smile down at her, letting my hands roam her body without any plan.
She nods, and then I develop an actual plan.
“Come.” I lead her slowly toward the side of the room, where her drying cloth hangs on a hook.
Holding her hands and walking backward in front of her, I let her move slowly, not wanting to miss one second of her obvious reactions. With some steps, the trainer’s handles click as they collide over the sensitive place between her two holes.
“They’re sliding inside me.” Her breaths come erratically, as if she’s sucking in air each time she’s surprised by the movement. Her ragged breaths continue, and when we reach the wall, I wrap the linen cloth around her wrists to bind them together.
“What are you doing?” Genuine curiosity fills her voice and her eyes.
“I have an idea,” I tell her vaguely. “But if you don’t like it, just tell me and we’ll stop.”
She nods, and she doesn’t resist as I turn her back toward the wall, or when I raise her arms over her head and secure the ends of the fabric over the hook.
The height is perfect. She can still stand; she can even bend her legs slightly; but her body is stretched out and on full display.Full display for me. And her position gives me access to every part of her.
Starting at her ankles, I let my hands, my lips and my tongue, slide over her skin, loving how tiny moans erupt from her lips as I discover what she most likes. When I reach her upper thighs, her legs spread wider and her hips pulse. I linger there, massaging her, teasing her, licking and kissing her. Letting my touch come very close to the spread lips of her sex, without ever touching.
“Good girl,” I say softly. “You’re holding them in, even with your legs spread apart.”
She glows, and I realize how much Rosomon hungers for praise. Given what she told me of her childhood, she likely never received any.
Pushing my fingers gently on the ends of the trainers, I watch for the reactions in her eyes each time I touch their bases. My cock is still hard and growing painfully so. I’m desperate to be inside her again. But right now, my priority is to bring her pleasure, to learn her body. And let Rosomon learn her body too. This moment is about giving her pleasure. We’ll have more than enough time for mine later.
As my explorations continue, I leave no part of her untouched. She pulls away from the wall, letting me slide my fingers behind her. The corset’s marks have faded from her breasts, and I relish their taste as I test their weight and experiment to see how hard her nipples can tighten.
Once they’re both fully solid again, I flick each of them lightly, testing her sensitivity. She groans, twisting her pelvis, certainly shifting the trainers inside her.
I think I might love this woman. I’ve never considered the idea of love. Especially not a kind of love I’d want to last more than a few passionate nights.
My whole life, I’ve known a wife would be chosen for me. As such, I’ve always assumed I’d seek pleasures outside that bond.
But I’m more than a prince now. I am a dragon rider. I can do as I choose, fuck whom I choose. I can love whom I choose. I can even wed whom I choose. And I choose Rosomon. I choose her forever.
Forty-Five
