Pandora
"Show me just how much of what belongs to me she touched."
For a moment, I'm sure to have stopped breathing. The images of what the warrior and I did against my door that night we came back from Hilas emerging from my memories.
And by his change in expression, I can tell he knows what goes through my mind. I look away, the deepest shade of gold creeping from my cheeks down to my neck. His hands depart on their own adventure, barely touching the skin of my shoulders.
Stroking down the length of my arms. I follow the strokes of his thump over my wrists, silently awaiting for his thick fingers to lace through mine. And when they do, he tightens his hold on them. As if to tell me he won't let me go this time. Using his hold on my hands, he pushes them against the wall - a hand at each side of my head. Unlike the gentleness of his grip, his knee forcefully parts my legs apart. Enough for him to press further into me.
The short distraction enough for him to burry his face in the crook of my neck, his lips attaching themselves to my skin. Sucking. Licking. Biting. Similarly to last night, he follows the trajectory of my throat, kissing his way up. Just as he's about to finally, finally reach my lips, he stops. And Heavens curse me, but I lean into him trying to connect our lips again.
"Here?"
His breath fans against my mouth, and all that passes between us is a simple "Yes" before I feel the aggressive movements of his lips against mine. Taking everything back that he feels was stolen from him. As his tongue enters my mouth, he collects my hands above my head, keeping them there with one hand.
I tilt my head, aching to take more of him. The sharp dig of his nail draws a straight line up my chest, circling one of my hardened nipples. A whispering moan escaping me when he pinches it, before soothing the pain by rolling it between his fingers. Taking almost all of my left breast in his hand, and squeezing as he asks against my swollen lips:
"Here?"
He doesn't even need to ask a second time, the eager arching of my upper back to feel more of him speaking for itself. Each one of my birthmarks he covers by a hickey, as if drawing the stars of his sky.
Lower.
Lower.
All sense of insecurities regarding my attire disappearing into gratefulness when all he has to do to reach his final destination is pull the neckline down to expose my naked breast. A mix between an exhale and growl makes me look down at where he's staring. My eyes widen when I notice the changes in his features. Every bone seems sharper, more defined.
The veins running under his pale skin so prominent that I can recognise even the thinnest branches of them. But it's the glow in his pale irises, that are barely a borderline illuminating his dilated pupils, that takes my breath away. The slow motion of his tongue darting from between his wet lips to taste my dark nipple more arousing that anything I've ever experienced. Slowly, perhaps even hesitantly, his lips taste my brown areola before sucking my nipple. I would've find the sight amusing, laugh at it even didn't he pull me closer to him by my hips. After giving my other breast the same attention, his mouth rises to my ear. I close my eyes in anticipation.
"Here?"
I wait. Wait to feel a hand, fingers, anything. Nothing, and when I open them again, he's looking down. I follow his line of sight, noticing the clawed finger following invisible patterns right above my core. Blinking away the mist of sexual tension, I groggily nod. Unable to confess out loud.
"I'm going to kill her," he threatens, biting the spot at the base of my neck painfully hard, making me wince. I want to pull away when he holds me back.
"Show me."
"Wha-"
His hand slaps my core once, and I yelp when he gathers my dress up to my waist. I expect him continue, when instead he lets go of my hands, letting them drop by my sides. The palm of his left hand still there, the other grabbing one of my hands. Leading it to where I've been waiting for him to touch me since yesterday.
"Show. Me."
I don't know exactly what it is that surges through my mind me for me to have the rush of confidence to take over and lead his hand in my underwear. He never ceases to inspect me, not even when his fingertips graze the bare skin of my slit. The last time I had it waxed was the night before my engagement, months ago. So it's once again covered in a trimmed bush of dark hair. I wait a moment to catch my breath before guiding his fingers between my lips. I don't look up to him, not until I feel his warmth against my clit.
"H-here."
I'm left a stuttering mess when his middle finger starts to circulate around my bud, going up and down my slit. Applying more and more pressure against my vulva with each stroke.
"Oh," I moan loudly when presses directly on my clit with his thump. Needing something to hold on to, I clutch his shoulders. Digging my nails into them when I feel the tip of a thick digit at my opening.
"Here?"
The guttural sound coming from his throat barely distinguishable in my ears. So closely to one another we stand, and yet I still feel as if one breeze could knock me off my feet. I nod, lying, knowing what's coming next, yet still gasp when he slowly enters me. His movements so careful, his face so curious as he feels into me.
Almost as if he never has done this before.
But, I know that that isn't possible. Couldn't be possible. No matter how much I secretly wished to be his only one - someone's only one. The butterflies in my underbelly go wild when he picks up the pace of his strokes. Adding another finger when he notices how legs part on their own accord to take more of him.
Moist clouds fan into each other when my moans drown in his groans of anticipation. I tighten around his fingers when the pleasure intensifies. He watches me squirm under him, and stops. Carefully, he takes out his coated fingers, and I blush when he raises them between us.
"What are you..."
Wordlessly, he approaches them to his mouth and licks them clean. His eyes closing as if he's tasting the most succulent delight.
He hums in continent.
"You taste addictively sweet, Precious," he reminds me of a purring cat,
"Like Rosé Champagne."
Without losing another second, he kneels down. Lowering my underwear until it lands somewhere behind him, I weakly try to push his shoulders back. The unforeseen fear in my eyes making him stop, build some space between us, when he asks for consent.
"Are you ready to for this?"
"I want this."
"But are you ready?" I take his words into consideration. Tears threatening to gather at the corners of my eyes at the aching feeling of frustrating insecurity.
"I-I'm just scared," I confess softy, "of him appearing in my memories."
I brace myself for the pain of denial, prepare my walls for the fall.
He smiles.
Dimples reassuring me.
"We'll do this slowly. One step at a time, together." He waits for a nod before approaching me, lifting my dress again.
"Ciaran, the others are waiting."
"Then let them," he shrugs, staring at my exposed core with a lick of his tongue over his lips, "It was my intention to have a drink before leaving anyway." Is all he says before burying his face between my thighs. Lifting one of my legs over his shoulder for more to feast on. My lips part to let out a soundless moan at the wet feel of his tongue making out with my lips. He nibbles at them, before sucking my bud like he did with my nipples. He doesn't listen to my pleads to stop when the pleasure becomes too much to bare. When the butterflies flapper their wings too wildly.
So, I let go.
Keeping my eyes open to keep sight of him, I share a gaze with him.
When his tongue finds my entrance, he doesn't waist anymore time to plunge in and rob me of any self restrain. My hips start to grind against his mouth, and I comb my hands through his locks as I ride his face.
"Wait, Ciaran-" I look down to push him off when I feel myself about to climax. As I elevate closer and closer to my undoing, the sharp sting of his claws grabbing my arse to burry himself deeper adds another kind of thrill to the pleasure.
"Give it to me." he whispers in between the bites and licks, and that's all it takes for me to throw my head back in ecstasy, screaming his name as he drinks every drop I give him.
Black dots stain my vision, and wasn't it for him holding me by the waist as he rises, I would've fallen over. Cleaning his face with his shirt after having licked his lips clean, the bastard has the nerve to smile while I'm struggling to catch my breath. Gently, he grabs my face in the same hand that just did the most sinful things, innocently pecking my lips with a content smile on his face.
"What to do now, Precious," he chuckles at my flushed expression, "I think I'm drunk."