“Yes.” She could hardly breathe. Pleasure gripped her down low and her back was almost spasming.
He dipped to reach her ear and split his resonance, whispering, “Just let them go. There’s enough room on this chaise and with the surrounding plants. You can mount your wings. Just let them go.”
His presence deep in the well of her body, and the hard erection along with his slow thrusts, kept her right on the cusp. Oh, what would this feel like to mount her wings while he was inside her. Oh. God.
She breathed hard focusing on her wing-locks. At the convent, all the devotiates were encouraged to mount their wings once a week, just for overall health. But wing-mounting was always done in private. Each time, she’d been wild with desire, and she often fantasized what it would be like if she was joined to Thorne while it happened.
Now the time had come and he was with her, so with her. She was almost hyperventilating as she held on to the moment. And then, as he pumped into her, a little faster now, they came, a swift glide, an intense pleasure that had her arching away from him. She screamed as her wings released into full-mount. She would have flown away had he not secured her with his hands around her waist, pinning her against him and holding his c**k firmly in place.
Still, he pumped into her. He knew her body so well.
Still, the pleasure came.
Once more, she cried out.
He pumped hard and fast now, bringing her close to the brink again. She arched and screamed into the night air, her hips rocking and meeting his thrusts. She came and came. She gripped his arms, holding on tightly because her wings were enormous and all the movement had set them to wafting, trying to take her into the air.
Thorne groaned. “Oh, God, Marguerite. You’re so tight.”
She met his gaze. “Can you hold on? Can you get into position, still inside me, and mount your wings? I want you to feel this. We could never do this in the Convent and I wanted to. Oh, God, Thorne, I wanted to so much and I want you to have this experience right now.” She was gasping for air.
“I need something more, first. Something to give me strength.” When his gaze fell to her throat, she gave a cry and put her vein against his mouth. He sucked and licked so hard she nearly came again. She slung her arms around his neck.
Do it.
He struck and her blood began to flow.
That did it. Her body tugged on him, the size of him working her internal muscles so that this next set of orgasms was better than the first, more intense, sharper. He held her hard against his mouth so that her hips were free to pump.
Oh, God, Marguerite, you feel so good. Your blood is a rose fire down my throat. When her body had sort of calmed down, he shifted so that he sat on the edge of the lounge and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
* * *
Thorne didn’t know how he was lasting. Of course two millennia of practice helped, but damn, sex had never been like this between them. The more of her blood he drank, the more the muscles all along his shoulders and down his arms tightened and strengthened. This, however, was the same, that her blood gave him strength. No other woman’s blood had ever powered him. But hers did, and maybe she was helping him last.
The events of the past few hours had changed Marguerite. He could feel it in his bones and he approved. Some threshold had been crossed, some terrible barrier busted open. She was more present with him than she’d ever been.
Would she stay? Well, that was the question, but not one that would be answered right away.
He released her throat and drew back. He smoothed her short white-blond hair with his hands and kissed her.
Her wings were exquisite, a beautiful black with a red flame marking, one of the telltale signs of obsidian flame. And with each thrust of his hips as she straddled him, the wings moved a beautiful rhythm that pulled her away, which only added to the tight inner sensation between them.
He kissed her again, but this time her tongue was in his mouth, swirling around his. She had a small feminine tongue. Mount your wings, Thorne.
He groaned. The thought of releasing as she had released, of maybe even taking her up into the air, caused him to shudder. He kissed her more deeply, thrusting his tongue into her this time.
She groaned as he kissed her.
Hold on to me, he sent. He moved to the edge of the chaise. Wrap your legs around tight because we’re going to take off.
She locked her ankles around his waist and her arms tight around his neck, keeping her seated against his groin.
You ready? I’m going to stand up.
She pulled back and looked at him. “I want this.”
“Me, too.”
Her wings were so beautiful, so big. The wafting moved all the plants around her in gentle waves.
He stood up with her.
She held on.
His back was wet. He could feel the wing-locks dripping. He could also feel how swollen all the tissue of his back was. He closed his eyes and as he pumped into her, rocking his hips slowly, he just let it happen.
He arched forward as the wings flew. The sensation, connected as he was down low to Marguerite, with her body stroking him as she rocked her hips against him, was unbelievable.
Hold on. Oh, God.
He arched a little more and she stayed with him, tightening her legs around him. His lower back tightened and he started to come. He heard his own shouting, as in some distant realm, because his mind was clogged with the intensity of the orgasm.
At the same time, his feet pushed off from the pavers, his wings flapped, and he rose into the air, his arms low around Marguerite’s waist. The pleasure continued to streak the length of his cock. He knew they had begun to move in a slow spiral upward and he cast a net of mist around them.
“Thorne, I’m going to come again.”
He held her ass tight and thrust in and out of her, a real trick in flight. She was so wet; the glide was like heaven. He had never done this before, never taken flight while making love. The sensation was unnerving and thrilling. Her blood had strengthened his body so much that he felt himself readying again.
His body trembled with so much adrenaline. They’d reached the upper limbs of some of the courtyard trees. “Pop into parachute-mount. I’ll do the same.”
She nodded and reshaped her wings, as did he, so that just at roofline level and in the canopy of several of the broad-leafed courtyard trees, he held her gaze and once more began to pump.
* * *
Marguerite didn’t know it could be like this. She kept one arm hooked around his neck so that she could use her free hand and slide her fingers through his hair. She kissed him lightly and when pleasure began to build, she kept that tender pressure on his lips.