So many reasons. And it had been raining that day, too—but by then, she and Aerax had found the cave on the windward side, and no longer took shelter as often at the inn. So it had been nearly two years since they’d looked through the wall, and so much had changed since. They’d just had their first kiss. And never before had there been so much tension between them in the small secluded room where they’d hidden away.
But the boatbuilder and her wife had seemed no different than before. Regularly they would come in, and always it was the same: the boatbuilder would tie a cloth over her wife’s eyes and have her lie on the bed with legs spread. Then the boatbuilder would lead someone else into the room—also blindfolded—then watch as that person fucked her wife. Sometimes strangers were brought in, but many times she and Aerax had seen people from nearby villages with familiar faces behind the cloth.
That time, it had for certain been a stranger brought in—a big man, shaggy haired and wearing a tunic of mammoth hide, his face decorated by the tattoos of the broken clans of the northlands.
Lizzan didn’t know what had affected her most. The size of him as his body had covered hers or the depth of his grunts. The plumpness of her thighs when she’d wrapped her legs around his waist to receive every heavy thrust. The explicit coarseness of everything he’d said, or the way the boatbuilder had rubbed herself to climax while watching them.
Or that it had been the very first time Lizzan had imagined that it was herself on that bed, with Aerax pumping deep inside her.
With his breath wafting through her damp curls, Aerax lightly rubbed the point of her clit with the side of his thumb. “What do you think of most often?”
“The sound she made when his cock sank into her sheath.” Panting, Lizzan squirmed beneath that teasing touch. “What do you think of?”
“The sound you made when his cock sank into her sheath,” Aerax said, and no longer could Lizzan bear it. Fisting her fingers in his hair, she guided his mouth where she so desperately needed it, then muffled her cry between clenched teeth at the first hot slick of his tongue.
And that had been the very first time, too. The first time she’d touched herself while watching—and had been overwhelmed with surprise and embarrassment that she’d been so wet. But Aerax had caught her hand, and just as they’d watched the brute do with the boatbuilder’s wife moments before, he’d tasted the arousal on her skin. And it had been the first time she’d come, when Aerax had kissed his way down between her legs before settling in to lick all that wetness away, and the hungry sounds of pleasure he’d made had driven her wilder than any noise that had come from the bed. In desperation she’d writhed against his mouth, until he’d made her come again, and then she’d begged to have him inside her.
Only when he’d begun to sink between her thighs and she’d cried out in pain had they come to their senses—for it had not been the full moon, and Vela always demanded a virgin’s blood as her due. So they’d pulled away from each other, but Aerax had seemed in agony to her, his erection so thick and swollen. There she’d tried to ease him with her mouth, but he’d lost himself to his lust so quickly, mindlessly thrusting past her lips until she’d choked, that they’d realized the danger they were in. For she had not cared how rough he’d been, so exciting was his need for her. She’d loved how he’d lost all control. But their blood boiled so hot together that, until their moon night, at least one of them would have to practice restraint.
Lizzan had not been sorry that it was Aerax who’d volunteered.
Not sorry then, not sorry now. In full abandon she sought the pleasure of his mouth, back arched and thighs widespread, with her hands cupping her breasts. Her legs began an uncontrollable shaking when he swirled his tongue around her clit, again and again, before settling in for a long, suckling kiss that seemed to slowly tug her every nerve to the breaking point before setting them afire. The orgasm raged beneath her skin, blazing through her senses before reducing her to ash that drifted softly back to the furs.