Page 24 of House of Crimson Kisses
“I can’t hold it in anymore,” she says.
“The only thing on your lips better be my fucking name, Octavia, or I swear to gods, your next punishment will be so much worse.”
I drive into her, thrusting hard as I return to circling her clit and winding her body tighter.
I crouch between her legs. My fingers push up into her as I slide my tongue over her cunt. I drive harder.
Harder.
Harder.
“Fuck, Red,” she pants, her head tilting back against the tunnel’s stone. Her hips grind against my mouth as I lap at her pussy. I thrust soft, hard, soft. Over and over, my tongue mimicking the pace until she’s panting and breathless. Her fingers wind through my hair, gripping tight as she rams her cunt into my mouth.
I keep pumping into her until she twitches, her body jerking and wild where it was rhythmic. “Shit, I’m going to… oh gods.”
And then she spills over the edge with a blissful, wordless moan. Her pussy clenches, and a rushing liquid pours out, squirting all over my face as her body comes undone.
Chapter9
CORDELIA
One Thousand Years Ago
Iuntether the horse, jump back on and nudge him in the ribs. He jerks forward straight into a trot. I dig a little harder, and he shifts into a canter. The next village is an hour’s ride away. I shan’t waste any more time.
The sun is high in the sky by the time I reach the village, and I’m exhausted. My backside aches, and I haven’t slept at all since yesterday and only a few fitful hours before the men came into Eleanor’s house.
Alas, I also don’t remember the last time I took any form of sustenance. I must stop and drink a little before I have a dizzy spell.
But I can’t wait. I have to find the firefighters.
There’s a little market in the middle of the village, so I approach the first seller, who’s hollering about vegetables.
He’s a rugged-looking chap, his cheeks and nose ruddy from always being outdoors, I suspect.
“Alright, miss?”
“I don’t suppose you’ve encountered any firefighters in your village?”
“Yes, miss, there’s a station of sorts. They do training on the other side of the village. Can I interest you in some fruit?”
I go to leave, but I’m awash with guilt because I asked for something from him and provided nothing in return. I hand over a small silver coin, and he passes me an apple as rosy as his cheeks.
My lips sink over the flesh, and I take a bite, instantly perking up. My tummy gurgles in protest, but I eat half of it and then give the rest to my horse.
“You need a name, don’t you, boy?” I say. “Rather wish I’d bothered to check with the stables before I took you. I’ll call you Teddy.” The colour of his coat reminds me of a bear Mama gave me as a child.
I pat his neck as he chomps on the apple before sucking it entirely into his mouth.
Finally, after what seems like a millennium, I find the station the market man was talking about.
It’s nestled in the most adorable and picturesque part of the village. Little grey stone cottages with thatched roofs and gardens bursting with potted plants and lush shrubs line the main road and side streets.
Among them sits a larger, squarer building where several men are training in the courtyard. Some hoist buckets of water and run with them up and down the expanse. Others lift logs or unfold ladders and scurry up them to the building’s second-floor window.
I tie up Teddy on the outer gate, and I make my way into the yard.
“Excuse me,” I say.
