by Linda Kage
“Does it?” That was nice to hear. I’d touch him all day, every day, if he allowed it.
Glad he wanted my attention now, I grew bolder, scraping my fingers lightly against his scalp and then caressing my hand down until my palm coasted over the corded tendons on the side of his neck.
“Yes,” the word hissed from him like a benediction. His head fell back, exposing his throat to me fully. It made his Adam's apple appear pronounced and delectable. I swallowed, feeling the sudden impulse to lean forward and press my mouth to the spot.
I licked my lips, ignoring the rise in heat under my skin, even as my fingers trailed across Farrow, over his shoulders and down the outside of his arm. Gooseflesh pebbled his skin and his fingers twitched before they caught the edge of my skirts and latched on, bunching the cloth within his grip.
His breathing increased speed. He flashed clenched teeth. The muscles in the sides of his neck and a vein in his temple bulged. When his nipples hardened against the slopes of his muscled pecs, I cringed, because it set off a certain stirring deep in my belly, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was how he looked when he was aroused and about to—
Oh, this was bad. I was supposed to be soothing him here, making him feel better after a nasty potion had turned his stomach sour, and I was getting too turned on by his incredibly masculine and delectable visage to behave properly.
I totally didn’t mean to, but I watched, mesmerized, as my fingers stroked back up his arm to his shoulder and then down over his pecs to that hard, little pebbled tip. The moment my betraying thumbnail swiped over his nipple, his eyes flashed open.
I gasped, jerking back, guiltily caught. Except—
Whoa. His irises were all wrong, milked over and so pale that his pupils were basically all I saw.
Whatever trance the potion had put him in, it hadn’t passed through his system at all. He was still very much trapped in the thick of it.
“Farrow?” I asked uneasily, not sure how to help.
His nostrils flared. “I can smell how wet you are for me. Mmm, moist cunt is the best.”
My mouth fell open. But what? He’d never talked to me like that before.
He took advantage of my frozen shock to snag my hand and bring it back to him, drawing me straight to his lap and inside his opened trousers.
“Oh!”
My fingers stiffened instinctively, thinking he’d accidently pulled me there. But then he moaned with need and arched up into my touch, very obviously pressing me against male genitalia.
I gulped, hesitant.
I’d never touched a cock before. It was so full and thick, stiff but velvety soft. Growing fascinated and unable to help my curiosity, I let him pull my hand around his girth and pump, shifting the skin up and down as he guided me into stroking him from base to tip. My eyes widened as I watched in awe. The shaft looked so ruddy and angry in color, proudly jutting up from my fist, except a solemn teardrop beaded from a slit at the end of the bulbous head, which gave it an almost lonely, needful quality.
His rasp definitely sounded needy, too, as his hips arched from my ministrations, begging for more. Hissing air from between his teeth, he watched me from those eerie eyes as his face filled with a rosy vigor.
“More,” he told me, gripping my leg through my skirt and moving his palm up my thigh, his fingers branding me with heat despite the layers of cloth between us. When he reached the junction between, I jumped.
“Oh hell,” I muttered, finally realizing. “Mydera gave you an aphrodisiac.”
Why had I not considered that before?
It was so obvious now; I felt stupid.
In front of me, Farrow blinked, his eyes clearing from their milky hue. The mention of Mydera seemed to momentarily jostle him from the spell, and he simultaneously pulled his hand free of me and shoved mine away from his penis as he jerked upright.
“Shit, sorry,” he rasped, drawing the falls of his trousers closed briskly, attempting to hide his erection. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Don’t stop,” I encouraged, reaching out. “I know what you need now. Just let me—”
“No,” he thundered, pulling back. “I’m okay. I took care of myself. I just need to…” He shook his head insistently as his eyes flickered back and forth between fine and normal to clouded and held captive under the potion’s thrall. “I just—I took care of myself. The spell will—it’ll wear off, now. Soon.”
“No, it won’t.” Shaking my head savagely, I scolded, “Farrow, you idiot. Don’t you know you can’t take yourself in hand when under the influence of an aphrodisiac? That’ll only make it worse.”
His eyes widened with fear. “It will?”
Damn, or maybe he didn’t know better.
Maybe I was the only one here who’d snuck a scroll filled with stories of erotic play from my castle’s library to my bedchambers when I was young and read all about the different love potions and positions there were. And the main detail I’d learned about aphrodisiacs was that pleasuring yourself while under the influence of one was only a temporary fix. The urge would always come back, twice as pressing the next time, and it’d remain until you either tupped another person you actually wanted, or you went utterly mad and rutted whatever human or beast came near you next, against your own inclination.
Farrow seemed to be on the brink of the mad state. It made me wonder how many times he’d taken himself into hand already and tried to will his problem away.
“Jesus, God, Nicolette,” he pleaded desperately. “What do I do?”
He was panting hard now, his head thrown back with one hand fumbling its way back into the cloth of my skirts, working progressively higher as it went, while the other grasped mine, encouraging me to take his cock again.
“It’s alright, darling,” I promised him softly, wrapping my fingers around him once more and stroking his manhood as roughly as he seemed to need it, while I gently feathered my other hand over his hair. “I’m here to help you. You’ll be okay.”
He shook his head frantically, fighting his primary impulses, only to moan, “Holy damn, you smell so fucking good. I want to taste your honey. Straight from the source.”
“Anything you need,” I promised on an encouraging nod. “I’ll get you through this. I swear it.”
When I leaned in to kiss his forehead, however, he jerked his face up, seeking my mouth.
His lips collided with mine, urgent and fumbling. But then he seemed to align himself, and as soon as he found the best angle from which to kiss me, a firm self-assurance spiked through him, and his tongue drove boldly into my mouth, capturing my own.
He cupped my breasts, massaging them through the fabric of my dress with confident, shocking strokes before he flipped the cloth down from the bustline and my bare bosoms spilled into his palms.
“Oh God,” I wheezed when we broke for air.
He came away from the tree, seeking my mouth again, and the moment his lips reclaimed mine, he compelled me down onto my back on the forest floor. He came over me, never once taking his mouth from mine or removing his hands from my breasts, his thumbs driving my nipples mad. Inside his opened trousers, he arched his hips, thrusting into my palm as I stroked him relentlessly.
“Mmm,” he rumbled on top of me, before shuddering and breaking from the kiss to pull back abruptly. He closed his eyes and shifted his head back and forth in refusal, as if that sane part inside him was trying to break loose and stop himself from ravishing me.
He was going to tear himself apart if he kept this up.
“Farrow,” I whispered, touching his face. “Stop fighting it, my love. It’s okay.”
He tossed his head some more, attempting to rein himself in. “No.”
“I want to do this with you,” I assured him. “Let go, Farrow. Let it happen.”
With his head still bowed over mine, he released a sudden breath and croaked, “Your voice.”
I furrowed my brow, still not certain what he meant when he said that.
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But then he added, “The way you say my name. God, I love your voice.”
My eyes popped open wide. “You do?” Well, that gave me a pompous little thrill of satisfaction.
“Don’t ever stop saying my name.”
“Farrow,” I immediately moaned. “Farrow. Farrow.” I shuddered when he slammed his mouth back to mine, kissing me with a primal force that made my body bow up toward him, drawn to his magnetism.
He gripped the neckline of my dress and tugged, jerking until the fabric tore in half, and my breasts bounced in surprise. His mouth was there immediately, licking and sucking.
“Oh!” I lurched up, not expecting the intensity of feeling. My limbs began to shake, and passion overwhelmed me. A sweet ache rose, stealing over my body, and Farrow just kept ripping my dress apart, all the way down the front until he had it completely halved, and I was exposed in nothing but a pair of knickers.
He was so mad with desire, I wondered if he even knew it was me he was touching. Not that it mattered. This was my true love; only I was allowed to be with him whether he was right in his head or not.
But then he rasped, “My God, Nicolette,” as he took me in from head to toe. “You’re breathtaking.”
I smiled, pleased to hear my name. Even if he didn’t for some reason know it was me, it was me he wanted.
“Farrow,” I murmured.
And that seemed to do the trick. He growled out his need and gripped the waistband of my knickers before stripping them down my legs.
Pleasure pulsed between my thighs as he focused on the wetness gathering there. The way he looked at me was so savage, like a predator spotting its prey, certain it would be dining on a feast tonight.
Then he set his hands on my knees and opened my legs wide.
I jumped, never having been exposed to a man so openly before. Apprehension spiked through my blood.
“Farrow.” My voice trembled as I grabbed his wrists. “Don’t forget this is my first time. I—I’m not sure what I’m supposed to—”
“Just feel me,” he said. “All you have to do is lie back and feel, princess. Enjoy everything I do for you.”
I scowled. Lie back and do nothing? He couldn’t be serious. That didn’t sound fun at all, because I wanted to be able to touch him in return, to bring him pleasure, too, and—
“Farrow!” I screamed when he leaned down and placed his mouth against the wet heat between my legs. His tongue lapped at sensitive muscle, and I nearly came undone. He licked and swirled without mercy, a predator with its prey’s jugular caught between its teeth.
Okay, maybe I could handle just lying here and doing nothing but enjoying it after all.
But touching myself there had certainly never felt like this before. It was ten times more intense with his mouth doing the stroking.
Farrow knew exactly what I needed, too, moving his tongue when my body strained and tightened, begging him to hurry.
His fingers prodded my opening—curious, seeking—and then he was nudging a thick finger inside me. I tensed, going still at the first bit of invasion. Blood rushed through my ears and my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. I panted, focusing on nothing but his digit as it moved slowly, dipping deep and investigating, while his mouth continued with quick, greedy sucks. I sank my teeth into my lip, straining to keep still even though another part of me wanted to move, riot against the rhythm he was setting and push him to go deeper and move faster.
Sweat collected on my brow and slipped down my temple, more gathering between my breasts. When the hell had perspiration become so damn sensual? I licked out my tongue and caught a salty drop of it at the corner of my mouth.
With his teeth still firmly latched on to my womanhood, Farrow lifted his gaze, looking up at me with gleaming, bright eyes as if he knew exactly what I’d just done. His finger suddenly spiked deep.
My back bowed. His tongue hit a new spot and he pushed a second finger into me, then a third. A burning tear followed, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him to keep moving and hitting that spot, over and over again. Following my silent command, he did exactly that, and my body ignited. Sparks exploded behind my eyes, energy powered through me, and an overwhelming tide of sensations followed, raining down on me like a hot shower that burned yet soothed all in the same instant.
I screamed from the force of it, my limbs stiffening straight out around me, like a conduit providing the source for all energy to flow through. A lovely river of pleasure.
The orgasm pounded out the tips of my fingers and toes. Then it slowed, sputtered, and began to lose traction.
“God. God,” Farrow panted, watching me as he sat up and wiped the back of his hand across his wet, gleaming mouth. “I can’t—I can’t wait any longer.”
Limp and drained, it seemed I could only watch from heavy-lidded eyes as he slid up my body to fit his hips between my thighs. Keeping his torso upright, so he could eye my exposed breasts, he gathered the base of his swollen rod in hand and lined himself up with my vagina. I glanced down as he fit just the head of himself inside me. It felt as if I should be more anxious; I was about to lose my virginity. But my limbs were way too languid from coming so hard, I could merely watch as he looked up into my eyes as if to make sure I was ready for that first thrust.
I nodded, smiling sleepily. “I’m so glad it’s you.”
His lashes fluttered and eyes darkened, some of his real self shining through. “Oh God,” he gritted out, horror and regret covering his face. “Nic…”
Mouth moving as if he wanted to apologize, he paused suddenly, the fight in him lost. Then his eyes dilated into slits, his nostrils twitched, and he clenched his teeth before slapping a hand down onto the ground near my face and heaving his massive cock forward, impaling me.
I choked on air, not expecting so much so soon. He was so big, stretching tissue that had never before been stretched. It was new. Frightening. Yet mesmerizing.
He wheezed as if in torment, his sleek, muscled shoulders flexing and his mouth gaping open. He pressed his lips flat, trying to deny the pleasure he felt, even as raw sexuality flared in his gaze as he focused on my naked skin. Then his lips sprang apart so he could pant shallowly.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You feel like heaven.” And then he moved again, hammering in and out of me.
Hard.
He didn’t go easy, didn’t slow down to let me adjust to the solid weight suddenly spiking into my body, just drove fast, fucking me. He wasn’t brutal by any means, but God, he was relentless. It was exquisite torture, this continuous rocking and moving that caused my inner muscles to spasm and contract, trying to bar him from my private passage, even as they clung, also trying to capture him deeper and create more friction.
Keeping his torso upright, he arched his back like a sleek lion and tossed back his short mane, working his hips like a piston, plunging deep and sure every time he hammered forward. His intent expression of rapture mixed with torment held me captive.
“My God,” he rasped, the tendons in his throat pulling taut. “It’s never—never been so good. So fucking good. Nicolette.”
“I’m here,” I assured him. I would’ve reached for his face, but my fingers were too busy clutching the frayed tatters of my dress and holding on to something for dear life as he took me.
He looked down at me, his eyes drugged, the aphrodisiac pouring through his veins. But then he smiled, and it felt as if he smiled at me, like Farrow smiling at Nicolette. My lips twitched with reassurance and a shudder stirred through me.
I moaned when he shifted, pumping from a different angle. My inner muscles that had been gripping him like a frightened animal relaxed and loosened. He groaned, obviously feeling the change.
“There you go,” he cooed. “That’s how you take it. All of me now, princess. Let me pleasure you properly with the full length.”
Suddenly slowing his frantic pace, he watched my expression and slid all the way out of me.
“No, wait,” I scrambled for him, t
rying to keep him there. But then he thrust back in, surging all the way to the hilt.
I gasped, shaking my head against the overwhelming pressure that followed. Oh, hell. So that’s what all of him felt like. It was so consuming.
Tension inside me pulled taut. Another climax built.
But no. I couldn’t come again, not as much as I’d already come. I’d shatter to pieces if I even attempted it; I just knew it. Two times in a row like that...
No one could handle so much.
Farrow seemed determined to test my endurance, though. He eased out once again, withdrawing all the way until just his tip pierced me. Then he grunted and once more slammed home.
This time, I screamed. My uterus contracted.
He did it a third time. I started to come, writhing on his cock. But he shook his head, denying me, and retreated in that same frustratingly slow way, preventing my orgasm from fully blooming.
Crying out, I gripped his ass. “Damn you, finish it.” My nails gouged flesh as I tried to propel him forward, to go fast and light me on fire like I needed him to. But he resisted, his eyes gleaming with nearly malicious triumph as he pulled me even further to the edge, more than I was sure I could take.
When he’d pulled out one more time until only the head penetrated me, he paused. A full pause, where I was left panting in wait, straining for him to impale me again. I growled at him, flashing my teeth, and thrashed my head, trying to lift my hips and draw him down into me again. But he remained resolute, merely watching my face.
“Beg me, princess,” he said.
“Oh God,” I sobbed. Was that all it’d take for him to finish already? “Please,” I cried. “Please, please. Farrow. I need you. Only you.”
His expression lit, euphoria filled his eyes, and he heaved forward, granting me my greatest wish. I wrapped my legs around him and held on to his ass to keep him from withdrawing ever again. But he didn’t even try. He merely ground against me, moving without leaving my body, flexing inside me as he climaxed, which caused me to come twice as hard as I had before.