You push me back. The cool of the bed meets the back of my knees. I fold and fall backward, bouncing off the mattress. I don’t see you, but I feel the mattress shift under your weight. I can feel you going to your knees by the way it moves, by the way the balance shifts. Then your hands are on my knees, spreading them apart, the sheets rustling underneath me.
Your breath is hot on my crotch. I feel your lips kiss me there, and I shiver. You hum in the back of your throat and I vibrate. Your tongue is on me, tasting me, hungrily licking me up and down until I want to clamp my legs shut and keep you there forever. You know all my secret places and you push your tongue against the little raised nub of flesh at the top of my sex. I gasp, and my legs twitch. Your body is hot against me. You push harder, the cords in your shoulders standing out, as you lever yourself harder against my groin, your mouth opening, the wet suction of it pulling at my most tender skin. I can feel you lapping at me, sinking your tongue inside me.
I can’t stand it. It’s too much, too soon. The intensity of the feelings blossoming hot and red will wipe me out if I don’t slow down. Catching my breath, I push your head away. At first you don’t want to go, but I push harder. You fall back on your heels, unsure of what’s happening.
Then I’m off the bed, desperate for your hardness. I almost sob in relief when I put my mouth on you, feeling you hard on my tongue. I lovingly push my mouth further down your shaft. You push deeper, carefully, with your hips, and I nearly gag. You pull back, and I grab your ass and push you in again, loving feeling your cock throbbing in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the head and you reward me with a grunt of surprised pleasure. I run my tongue over the smooth skin and pressed the tip against the slender opening at the end of your cock, delicately, and a slippery salt taste blooms on my tongue. I moan at the exquisite feeling, like melting butter, that pours up through me from my crotch.
I pump your cock with my hand. I want you to fuck my mouth like you fuck me; I want you to use me. I run my other hand up the inside of your legs and cup your heavy scrotum; it’s smooth and soft in my hand.
I pull away and look up at you staring down at me. From the look in your eyes I know it’s time. I push myself onto the bed, my legs open. Your eyes go to my breasts and then your mouth is on me again, sucking my nipple. I close my eyes and surrender to the sensation. I can feel you moving on the bed, positioning yourself. Once again, you spread your legs. The comfortable weight of you settles on me, your chest squashing my breasts flat, your stomach on mine. This is what I dream of all day—feeling your skin against my skin.
Then you slide inside me, into the pulsing heat. I want to feel you fill me and you oblige; with your first movement you hilt yourself inside me. My flesh is alive with sensation; I can feel every inch of you swelling inside me. I muffle the shriek I want to make by planting my mouth on your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. I spread my legs wider, giving you easier access. I want to feel the very base of your pelvis scraping against mine.
“That’s right,” I whisper into your ear. “Just like that. Oooh, yeah. Just like that, baby.”
I clamp my hands on your ass, pulling you deeper at the end of every one of your thrusts, aching to get just a millimeter more depth out of you. I’m lost in your body, in the presence of you, that heavy gym-toned torso of yours tensed and cradling me. You slip your hands under me and grab my ass. Somehow you gain that fraction of extra leverage. You thrust yourself totally, completely, inside me. I cry out, helpless to stop the noises bursting out of my throat.
“You’re so tight,” you breathe, the motion of your hips starting to become more ragged. “You feel so fucking good.”
“How do I feel?” I demand, feeling the inferno inside me leaping up with your words.
“Hot,” you say. “And wet. God, I love being buried inside you.”
Your rhythm starts to speed up, and so does mine. Now we’re tearing at each other, nails raking down each other’s backs, frantically pumping our hips. I squeeze you with my inner muscles and a noise you can’t help comes from somewhere deep inside your throat.
“I’m gonna make you cum,” I say. “I’m gonna milk your cum from you. You want that? Want me to milk all that cum from you?”
You swell even bigger inside me and for a moment you’re almost too big for me to contain and then you shove hard and I can feel you coming. I feel your cock jerk inside me, firing spurt after spurt of cum so hot I can’t believe it doesn’t burn my insides. I pull at your ass like I’m possessed, trying to force your coming cock all the way up inside me.
You burst into laughter and so do I. Your cock starts to relax but I don’t want you to go, not yet. With the last drops still leaking from you, you put your head into my neck and breathe. I can feel the sweat in your hair and your movements slow, then stop.
In your ear, I whisper: “Hope you’re ready to go again in ten minutes.”
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THE OFFERING
She looked up to the sky. The moon was high and full in the black night. It was the last eve of the Festival of Samhain; the veil between worlds was weak.
Shadows chased one another around the edges of the forest grove. She felt the heat of the great night bonfires on her face, on her calves. She shivered, not from cold. The gold circlet around her neck was warm from the fires. She resisted the urge to toy with it.
You must appear strong, she thought. Even if you don’t feel it.
The one who had found her, the wizened druid who had ridden into her village that cold gray morning when their annual search had begun, had watched her bathe that evening. She knew she would find no help from him, and she asked none. His old eyes had roamed over her lush young form as she purified herself. The cleansing finished, and she dried, and dressed. The old man tangled her hair with sacred circles of wood: rowan and holly and mistletoe. He touched holy oils from far-flung lands to her wrists, to her neck, to the hollow between her breasts.
Now she walked past the carved wooden idols that guarded the path to the grove. The distant firelight flickered off them, turning their faces into something monstrous.
She looked up to the sky once more, to the moon. This might be her last chance. Was it a pale kiss, or bleached bone? She couldn’t decide. She took a deep breath, and when she exhaled, she shrugged the robe off her shoulders.
In the distance, the chant began. The holy men called out for the sidhe to come, to inspect the offering they made. If she pleased the creature from the Otherworld, the harvest would be good. The children would grow strong, the waves would calm for good fishing. If the creature found her wanting, the crops would fail, sickness would sweep through young and old alike, and the waves would only calm when raiders came looking for rape and pillage.
And they would find her body the next day in a dozen ragged pieces, scattered around the sacred grove.
The night breeze rippled over her skin, but somehow, it brought no chill. Instead it was a lover’s caress. It rolled over her full breasts, over her curved hips. It wrapped itself around her slim waist, and tousled itself through the midnight black hair that fell down to the hair of her spine. It curled around her delicate neck and her slender thighs, caressing the thick down that covered her mound.
Suddenly it slipped inside her, and even as her mouth opened and she sighed, she understood that this was no longer the night breeze, if it ever had been.
She felt the air itself press up against her, like finest silk. It cupped her buttocks, it whispered in her ears. She felt it, almost like a lover’s kiss, at the small of her back. A deep throb began in her groin, and a growing wetness.
Across the grove, patches of shadow ran together. As she watched, they grew even darker, and somehow more solid, and then... a man stepped out of the dark, but this was no man, she knew. It simply had a man’s shape.
He was slender and hard-muscled. His face was arrogant, and cruel. His long hair curled down to his broad shoulders, and his manhood stood arrogantly erect against the hardness of his b
elly. He moved like a dancer; graceful and deadly. Without being able to see, she knew his eyes were the deep green of the forest.
For a second she thought of covering herself, but she knew that would almost certainly be fatal. She was here as his offering, nothing more. She was here for her people. To give her all for them.
She met his eyes. Electricity crackled through her. Suddenly he was close, close enough that she could have felt his breath on her if he had any. His eyes never blinked. Heat poured through her, a heat that had nothing to do with any touch. Dampness spread through her crotch.
He was beautiful. He reached out with one hand and gently touched her cheek. She gasped at the sensation that poured through her. Her inner flesh tightened. She was ready for him; she wanted him as she could never have wanted any mortal man.
He made a gesture with one imperious hand. She knew what he expected of her, how the druids taught the girls before her to behave. She turned, but something in her rebelled. She would not kneel. She would show her strength. Let the sidhe make of that what he would.
She did not fall to her knees, but rather, braced herself against one of the massive oaks that ringed the grove. The bark was rough beneath her hands. She breathed a silent prayer that she was doing the right thing.
He pushed against her and she felt the roughness of the tree against her breasts. She bit into her lip as he pushed harder, deliberately scraping her against the bark. His hands scooped her breasts, squeezing them, teasing them. Her nipples hardened against his palms.
He grabbed her buttocks. She squeezed them for him, let him feel the movement there. Somehow, she knew he was smiling. She spread her legs wide, and presented.
He tangled his hands in her long hair and she wondered if she had gone too far, been too bold. He made a fist, and she felt her scalp tighten at the roots. The pain was sweet, and she arched her head back. Would this be the last moment of her life?
Something otherworldly lifted her feet and wrapped them around the ancient oak tree. It felt good and strong between her soft, silken thighs.
Behind her, he adjusted her hips, and then he was inside her, thrusting. She knew she was in his control, and it made her wet.
He hilted himself in her and she moaned. The grove swallowed the sound.
His strokes were strong and deep. His grip was unescapable, and she surrendered herself. Her body turned to water and when his hands gripped her breasts again and she pushed herself back against him, desperate to take him inside her as deep as she could.
She never wanted him to leave her. She wanted him deep inside her forever, to feel the pleasure sweeping through her. She squeezed her inner muscles, holding him deep and tight.
He swelled inside her and she knew that he was about to finish. He barked out a short, hard grunt, and she felt his hardness break inside him; she felt the spurts of his seed shooting inside her. She cried out; the whole world was the feeling of him losing himself inside her.
When she stumbled to her feet he was there, watching. He took his face in her hands and kissed her, hard. His manhood was still hard between them and she dropped her hands to feel it. As she did, he grabbed her behind firmly. The tip of him touched her nether lips and she trembled violently before dropping to her knees to service him with her mouth.
No matter what happened next, she knew the harvest was assured. The offering of the druids had pleased the other world. But for now, the rest of night ahead still beckoned.
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REVIEWS AND SUCH (THEY’RE REALLY IMPORTANT)
Hey there guys! I truly hope you've enjoyed my writing. My dream is to be able to retire from my day job and write these stories for you all full time. The most important thing in a self-published writer's life is word of mouth; if you enjoyed the book, please let everyone know by leaving a review!
And if you should find there were things in the book you would have liked to have seen turn out differently or (God forbid!) you should find a typo, please feel free to shoot me an email at [email protected]. I want to be the best writer I can be, so I'm always keen to hear constructive criticism.
Or shoot me an email just for a chat about this or future books! I promise no one sending me an email will end up on a mailing list.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Suzuki Sinclair was born in Japan to two wonderful American parents who met while teaching English in Tokyo. She moved back to the US with her family just in time to spend every year at a different high school before going to college and studying to be a sports psychologist.
Two years of out of college she met her perfect man and fell in love, and he proposed in front of the Grand Canyon. Then he cheated on her six months into the engagement and now he’s out of the picture—so now she’s free to pursue her dreams of being a writer without caring a bit about what anyone might think.
Suzuki’s favourite hobbies are travel, horse-riding, and CrossFit. Her favorite TV show is How I Met Your Mother (that ending though), her favorite writer is George R. R. Martin, and her favorite singer is Beyoncé. Her Japanese is very rusty, she loves hearing from people who’ve read her writing, and the wildest night of her life was in Germany, when she let herself be seduced by two traveling Australian girls (there’s a slender chance that story might make it into a book someday).
You can find her online at the following places:
Website: http://www.suzukisinclair.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SuzukiSinclair
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/suzukisinclairbooks
Or you can always drop her a line at [email protected]
THE NEXT SUZUKI SINCLAIR SERIES?
Here’s the biggest problem with being an author by night only: I've got a thousand ideas for future stories, but only a few hours a week to work on them. So I'd love to know what my audience are most interested in reading next—which storyline should I choose? I've got three suggestions for upcoming series—email me at [email protected] and let me know which you'd be most interested in reading next! As always, I faithfully promise that no one who emails me will be added to any kind of mailing list or get spammed.
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On the Hunt: a street-smart female detective gets teamed up with a brash young rookie. Sparks fly between the two even as they try to keep their relationship professional. But with life on the line every day, why not give into temptation? After all, you only live once...
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After Dark: a young folklore student finds herself caught between two warring brothers—but these brothers aren't even human. This supernatural erotic romance sees the legends of Irish mythology comes to sensual life in a quiet American town.
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Housemates Together: Robyn and Meredith were just friends to begin with, but one wild night in the middle of a thunderstorm sees them lost in each other's arms. Now they have to navigate their new attraction and Robyn has to contend with her new feelings—for another woman.
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Unfaithful: An Unlocked Novella Page 7