by Amy Star
They seemed to get the idea that they needed to let the situation unfold to its natural conclusion at about the same time, as his hands abruptly shifted away from her hips, sliding over her ass and gripping her by the backs of her thighs so he could pick her up, lifting her right off of his lap as if she hardly weighed anything at all.
Elizabeth hadn’t fully appreciated just how large Ambrose’s couch was until he laid her back on it and leaned over her. There was still room to spare and certainly plenty of space to remain comfortable. She didn’t want to say his couch was bigger than her bed back home, but it definitely felt like it just then.
That thought didn’t last long, though, considering they both had rather more pressing matters on their minds at that point. Elizabeth hoisted her hips up off of the couch cushions to let Ambrose tug her pants down, off of her hips and over her ass, until they were caught around her thighs. Her panties followed a moment later, and Ambrose began shuffling back along the couch, until he could lie down on his front, his arms on either side of her legs and her knees framing his face. She almost had an opportunity to ask him what he was planning, but not quite. As it turned out, he would rather show instead of tell.
He leaned closer, and Elizabeth tensed for a moment as his tongue dragged along the lips of her sex, from one end to the other, back to front. He glanced up at her, and she relaxed in an instant, one hand finding a way into his hair at the same time as she nodded encouragingly.
He repeated that same slow motion a few times before at last letting the tip of his tongue dip between the folds of her sex, and she sighed out a gentle moan, her hand running through his hair as she did.
He worked slowly, as if he was trying to get her to break apart, and she could only assume that was really, truly his goal, as it certainly felt as if that was what was happening to her. When his tongue finally lapped at her entrance before pushing in, she saw white for a moment, and her hand clenched in his hair for a second before loosening once more and resuming running through it slowly, keeping herself grounded in the moment just as much as she was egging him onwards.
The first time he dragged his tongue over her clit with true intention, Elizabeth threw her head back and moaned, one hand flying up to clap over her mouth at the last instant. It remained there for only a moment before she recalled that she and Ambrose were the only two in the house, and she didn’t need to worry about anyone overhearing them.
Her hand fell away from her mouth, and she let herself be heard as he continued to lavish attention over her clit. When she felt two fingers pressing at her entrance and then slipping inside, she only got louder, and her grip on Ambrose’s hair tightened further still, though if he objected to the rough treatment, he showed no sign of it.
It seemed as if every muscle in her body was in motion as her hips undulated, trying to get closer and closer to the feeling that was already right there, as the heat in her belly continued to build and build, until, at last, her back arched and she came. Ambrose continued to lap at her through her orgasm, as her muscles tensed and twitched, until she was once again as lax and as loose as a puddle. Only when she was spent did he slip his fingers out of her and sit up, and she lay gasping on the couch cushion, her chest heaving as she sucked in air like a drowning victim. She felt boneless for a few moments, but despite that, she forced herself up on her elbows with sheer willpower, and she slowly sat up.
Ambrose looked bemused for a moment, until she settled one hand—only slightly shaky, to her credit—over the bulge in his pants. It took only a little fumbling before she got his pants down just enough for his erection to spring free, and she curled one hand around the base of it.
She looked down at it for a moment, her expression slightly befuddled. She had never before done anything like what she was planning. Granted, no one had ever done anything like that for her before either, so she supposed it was only a fair trade, and she certainly didn’t mind returning the favor.
Ambrose looked as if he was going to interrupt her at first—probably to tell her that it was unnecessary if she didn’t want to do that, but she already knew that, so it seemed like he was just needlessly fretting at her—but she leaned down before he could say anything and lapped at the head of his cock, and anything he planned on saying disappeared as he sucked in a breath and lost track of his entire train of thought.
Elizabeth listened closely to him, adjusting how she sucked and licked based on the sounds he made, speeding up or slowing down based on what he seemed to enjoy most, until his head was thrown back against the couch cushions as he panted, and his fingers were clenched in the fabric of the upholstery.
He liked firm pressure—or at least as firm as Elizabeth could manage—and he liked it better when she moved slowly and drew things out, which was perfectly alright with her, considering she was only learning the ropes just then.
She sort of wished she could fit more of his length in her mouth, but she wasn’t going to push herself that much so early on. She suspected it wouldn’t be especially enjoyable, and she knew Ambrose wouldn’t enjoy it himself if she tried to do more than she was ready to. So, she contented herself with keeping one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking what she couldn’t take care of with her mouth, and her other hand reached between his legs to stroke his balls, fondling them one at a time so they got just as much attention at his cock.
Elizabeth didn’t exactly get much warning when he came, but then again, she supposed she hadn’t exactly given him any warning either, and she couldn’t really say she minded, even if the taste left a bit to be desired.
Slowly, she sat back up, his gradually softening cock slipping from between her lips, until she was upright once again. She scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth.
For a few moments, no one said anything as Ambrose caught his breath. They sat there in near silence, disheveled and partially undressed. Eventually, Elizabeth giggled and leaned against his side, propping her chin on his shoulder as she observed, “That’s certainly one way to start the morning.” She leaned over to prod at his cheek with the top of her head as she added primly, “You should make me breakfast now. Go be a gentleman.”
Ambrose huffed out a quiet laugh and levered himself to his feet, laughing once again when Elizabeth squealed and toppled down onto the couch when her living kickstand deserted her.
*
As Ambrose got started on breakfast, Elizabeth scampered up the stairs to the bathroom for a quick shower and to get dressed. Once she returned to the kitchen, she watched the still-cooking ingredients to make sure nothing burned, prodding at them with a wooden spoon every so often, while Ambrose disappeared upstairs to straighten up himself.
Breakfast was a simple affair but enjoyable nonetheless. They ate in companionable silence at first, until eventually Elizabeth observed lightly, “You know, no one ever did anything like that for me before.”
Ambrose looked up at her, quiet for a moment as he observed her, before he wondered slowly, “Was that the first time you…?” He trailed off at the end, unsure of how to finish the question.
It took Elizabeth a moment to realize what he was getting at, and once she did, she snorted out a quiet laugh. She shoveled a few more bites into her mouth before answering, only just remembering to chew and swallow before she started talking. “Not quite,” she assured him. “I wasn’t exactly popular in school, but I had my fair share of fun either way. You don’t need to worry about whether or not you deflowered me.”
Ambrose rolled his eyes. “Good to know,” he offered dryly in return.
“Nothing like that, though,” she sighed, her voice turning almost dreamy as she said it, her chin propped up on one hand and her elbow resting on the table. “That was just…wow.” Alright, so maybe it was not the most articulate thing she had ever said, but she figured it at least managed to get her point across well enough.
Ambrose cleared his throat behind one hand and turned his attention back to his breakfast for a moment, as he did his
best to keep his laughter under control. “I’m glad you approve.”
She stuck her tongue out at him and turned her attention back to her food. A few more moments passed before she admitted quietly, “I’ve never, ah…done anything like that before either. So, it uh…it probably wasn’t very good.” She shifted back and forth in her seat.
Ambrose looked up at her slowly, trying to look casual and not succeeding particularly well. “News to me,” he offered flippantly, glancing her over before he resumed eating. “You seemed to have a pretty good idea of what you were doing to me.”
Almost immediately, Elizabeth could feel her face beginning to heat up, and she ducked closer to her plate. She wasn’t even sure what she was embarrassed about. Considering she had already given him a blow job, having him talk about her giving him a blowjob shouldn’t have been that weird.
And when she thought about it like that, she supposed it wasn’t, and she supposed that maybe the world had just conditioned her to assume that if someone was talking about sex and her in the same conversation, she had probably done something wrong. She was a little lady, after all, and she wasn’t supposed to think about those sorts of things. But she had done more than just think about those things that morning, and she couldn’t bring herself to feel even remotely bad about it. In fact, she kind of wanted a chance to do it all over again.
But there was something else that needed to happen first. She hastily scooped the last of her breakfast into her mouth before she broached the topic.
“You know,” she mused slowly, and she supposed it probably sounded like she was trying to change the subject, but that was only slightly the case, “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to take a lady out on a date first before you do anything like that.”
“Is that so?” Ambrose wondered, feigning an innocent sort of confusion. “I guess no one ever told me about that.” He sighed out a slow, wistful breath, just a bit too overwrought to be taken seriously. “And I guess now it’s a bit too late to fix it.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Elizabeth assured him, setting her fork down on her empty plate and shoving her plate away. “There’s always a chance to make up for lost time, after all, if you want to.” She made an attempt at sounding coy, but truth be told, she wasn’t trying particularly hard. It wasn’t as if they weren’t both perfectly aware of what they were talking about, after all, and she was pretty sure it had been fully established that they both liked each other quite a bit.
“Are you asking me on a date?” he wondered wryly, eyebrows rising.
“I said no such thing,” she answered primly, leaning her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in both palms, her fingers fanning out across her cheeks. She offered him a cheeky smile, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.
“Are you saying that you want me to ask you on a date?” he asked in exactly the same tone as his previous question, as if he hadn’t spoken before that.
“It’s a distinct possibility,” she replied, tipping her head to one side in her hands. “Is that what you think I’m asking?”
Ambrose rolled his eyes in good-natured exasperation. “Well, if I had to guess—and clearly, I do, if you’re going to play evasive here—then, I would say yes. So...” He folded his arms on the table and leaned slightly closer, both his expression and his voice turning almost painfully earnest as he asked, “Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight? I haven’t been into town in a while, and it sounds like you don’t know what going into town means. It will be fun.”
“I know what going into town means,” she protested around a laugh, before she cleared her throat and answered, “I would love to. Should I dress up?”
“That shouldn’t be necessary,” he assured her. “I have a place in mind. The food is to die for, but it’s nothing particularly fancy. It’s a little family-owned place.”
Despite that, Elizabeth figured she could still dress up at least a little bit. She didn’t really get much of a chance to in her day-to-day life. She didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t take advantage of it when the chance presented itself to her.
*
Dinner that night was amazing. The restaurant was small, though not quite what Elizabeth would consider a hole in the wall; it was cozy rather than claustrophobic, homey even. The booths were old and worn but comfortable, and the food was absolutely incredible. And she felt pretty that evening, though she was pretty sure she hadn’t overdone it.
If nothing else, she managed to catch the attention of one of the waiters there, and it was strangely gratifying to feel Ambrose’s arm around her back and his hand against her waist, as if he was letting the waiter know that Elizabeth was officially off the market.
Not that she wanted him to be possessive, of course. That sounded exhausting at best and probably terrifying at worst. She just was happy that he seemed to be taking pride in her. She wasn’t sure if that even made any sense, but it felt right when she thought about it, so she was pretty content to just go along with it.
Dessert was even better, partially because it tasted incredible, but mostly because she caught a few other people looking as she ate a bite of Ambrose’s dessert off of his fork. While she would never claim to be any sort of master at reading people, she was pretty sure at least a few of them looked jealous, and that sent a tiny thrill through her. Not in a vindictive sense—she didn’t want to turn into some creepily possessive harpy any more than she wanted Ambrose to turn into a possessive monster—but in a warm sense. Finally, she had something for other people to be jealous over. It was a new feeling.
CHAPTER FOUR
On the whole, they had done a remarkably good job of not focusing on the issue that was Elizabeth’s house and property. She didn’t think anyone was ignoring the issue; she was just fairly sure that they were all trying to keep her from dwelling on it by not bringing it up.
On one hand, Elizabeth was grateful, since it gave her an opportunity to process everything without actually needing to worry about it, and that was a degree of separation that she most definitely needed. But with time and space came clarity, and after a couple of days, she was less concerned about fretting and more concerned about actually doing something.
“So, what do we do?” Elizabeth swished her coffee in idle, listless circles in her mug, watching the way the cream swirled within it. She paced back and forth across the kitchen, too much excess energy buzzing beneath her skin for her to simply sit down and enjoy her coffee and her breakfast in peace. “About my house, I mean. I figure it’s pretty easy to tell if a bunch of shifters are feuding in front of it and so it’s probably pretty easy to tell when they’ve stopped doing that, but how are you supposed to tell if just one shifter is staking the place out?” Every so often, she paused by the table to take a few bites of her breakfast before she carried on pacing once more.
Ambrose watched her from his seat at the table as she strolled back and forth. His plate was already empty, and he had both of his hands wrapped around his mug. His eyebrows rose steadily higher and higher as she kept moving. Eventually, he offered, “We stake the place out in turn.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I can send Yusuke or Mara to keep an eye on the place, and if long enough passes without sign of anyone being there, it will probably be safe for you to go back. If they keep finding signs that a large animal has been there, though, then that means it isn’t safe yet.”
Elizabeth groaned, and finally she dropped down into a chair at the table, folding her arms on the tabletop and slumping down on top of them. “But why my house?” she grumbled, voice low and only semi-coherent.
“Are you talking to me or the varnish?” Ambrose wondered dryly, and with a force of will, Elizabeth levered herself back up, just enough to lean her chin on her arms instead of her entire face.
“Why my house?” she repeated, forced to look up at him through her eyelashes as she asked. “I mean, I can kind of understand the logic of the territory dispute, but then why did one of them come back? I thought the territ
ory issue was more or less settled.”
“A scout, maybe?” Ambrose suggested, though he didn’t seem particularly sure about it. “The wolves might have sent someone to check and make sure that the bears hadn’t come back, or just to make sure that no one else was trying to move in. If that’s the case, I doubt they would want anything to do with you. Considering how big the territory for a group of shifters can be, there is basically guaranteed to be other people living there, so that wouldn’t be an issue as long as there aren’t any other, unrelated shifters.” He paused for a moment and shifted on his feet. “Even so, I would prefer that you not go back until we know for sure that there haven’t been any wolves there for a few days in a row, so it will be safer to assume they’ve all finally vacated.” His eyebrows rose slightly, and he added slightly expectantly, “And I’m pretty sure you don’t really want to go back if you know there was a wolf there recently.”
Elizabeth grumbled into her arms and sat up, just so she could slide down in her seat, sulking down at the top of the table. “I guess you’re right,” she conceded, her voice low and sullen. “I just wish it had been someone else’s house.”