Kane looked down and reached, savoring the moment, his fingers on the Corsaire's breast over the thin cloth, tracing under the swell. He had wanted to touch her the first moment he'd seen her, scented her, even more as time had gone on and very badly now. He could feel her trembling against him.
There was that little ribbon that wanted tugging, the one that had tormented him for months. He pulled on it. The neck of the garment loosened, his hand encouraging the cloth away until her breasts were entirely bared. He enjoyed the sight of them for a moment. He hadn't seen them since the night he'd bought and stripped her, but he hadn't forgotten what they looked like. Beautiful tits.
He cupped one, his hand large on her breast, firm and warm, her dark pink nipple jutting through the gap between his thumb and palm. Corsaire coloring, her blood close to the surface. The thought went through him, another wave in his gut, lust.
He looked at her face. Her eyes shifted, looking back at him. She was still tense, breathing fast. He touched her nipple with his thumb, circling it, rubbing lightly again. She jumped a little and blinked.
He did it again, more, her nipple swelling under his fingers, tightening as he leaned back a little to touch the other, rubbing, hearing the fast catches in her breathing. He did it until she gave a soft cry she cut off, squirming. Her eyes got heavy as he began to tug her nipples, sometimes sharp pinches. He smiled slowly as her lips parted, her eyes darkening with arousal. Yes, she was passionate.
He wasn't here to have sex with her. He had brought her to the grove to learn how carefully he would need to go, to find out if she feared this, to see if she would respond to him or if being brutalized had stolen her Luterian passion. Corsaire fire, desire washing through his belly.
He leaned down and kissed her again, enjoying having her under him. His mouth moved down to her throat, licking that place with her scent, tasting her pulse going fast under his tongue. She tilted for him and made another sound, her throat vibrating under his lips. He moved down more, scenting between her breasts, nuzzling her, moving to take a hard nipple into his mouth.
She caught her breath sharply and squirmed again. He was so close, could free himself and thrust into her if he wanted. He did want that, and she would let him. He could tell, the thought arousing him more, the Corsaire spreading her legs for him, for a Tavishi. More lust went through him.
He released one swollen and jutting nipple, going to the other. She liked that. He began tugging with his teeth and she cried out and now she was offering them to his mouth. He had hoped very much they were compatible, had even anticipated it, but this.
He played until her nipples were swollen and deep red, too rough on her, very much too rough, but he could smell her and Shai, she liked it so much.
He leaned back a little, taking in her dark Corsaire eyes, her mouth swollen and red, his eyes shifting to her nipples, similarly colored. He reached down and found the edge of her skirt, slipping under all the cloth, bringing his hand straight up to the source of her scent, to the heat there. No pants. He did like Alverian clothing for this. He could hear his own breathing, ragged. His cock was hard, sensitive in his trousers.
He really wanted to be inside her right now. He didn't particular care where. Her pussy, her ass. Her Corsaire mouth, his cock surging at the idea. He'd thought about that more than once.
He touched her over her little underpants. Angling his hand, he pushed between her thighs, a request, pressing until she made a soft sound and opened her legs for him, a hot stab of desire in his belly when she did it. He touched her delicately, Corsaire pussy. He surged again, the idea filthy and arousing, understood like that by Tavishi all his life. He felt her clitoris through the cloth, swollen, using two fingers now, passing over it repeatedly.
Her body went limp as he watched, her hips moving, following his strokes. She relaxed back against her prop, letting it take her full weight, her legs spreading more, arching, a wave going through him. She was panting lightly, her eyes on his. He released his breath when he felt it. The Corsaire was wet all the way through the garment, more than ready for him, the scent of her drifting up. A hot jolt went through him.
He had told himself, this far and no further, but it was so difficult. His head was full of images of thrusting into her, a Tavishi riding her pale thighs, burying his cock in the dark hair between her spread legs, those dark Corsaire eyes looking up at him as he spent in her. He wanted that.
Her eyes were half-closed, black with arousal, her lips parted, lost in the sensations as he stroked her more firmly now. She made a sound of helpless pleasure. He abruptly withdrew from her, straightening and grabbing the skirts, Alverian nonsense, shoving them up, tugging the little tie on the ridiculous little pants she wore and pushing the cloth down impatiently with his hands, over her hips, her knees, getting them off her.
He returned and stood between her legs, kneeing them open, pinning them there with his legs when she tried to close them, his own feet planted wide, his hand snaking between their bodies. He braced one arm above her and brought his face close to hers. She cried out to when he found her naked sex with his other hand, her voice full of need, looking back at him. He watched her black eyes as he touched her entrance, silky and slippery, moving up, all around her clit, exploring, the slick helping. He was gentle and thorough, returning to stroking her, enjoying her squirming.
He could hear himself breathing heavily as she shuddered, her eyes closing, swelling under his fingers, her clit a hard little nub he rubbed. He pinched her lightly, rougher now, tormenting her a little for his own pleasure, the Corsaire flinching away and then coming back for more. She was making him crazy.
He slipped a finger inside her slowly and she hitched. She was tight, almost too tight as he tried another, barely able to, his thumb wedging against her clit, rubbing circles as he pumped his fingers into her cunt. Yes, hot and swollen, wet, his fingers moving more easily now but still so tight. He could be inside her in a moment. The noises she was making went through him, pressing herself against his hand. She was approaching her pleasure. His own breathing was rough, watching. Her eyes opened and met his, going wide.
She arched and strained, making a sharp sound, beginning to come, going through him, her legs spreading more. He grunted softly as she cried out. He'd like nothing more than to free his cock right now and take her invitation, but he'd promised himself. His fingers were still inside her, her clit hard and slick under his thumb, not letting it stop. She whined as he leaned down sharply and tugged her nipple with his teeth, biting her other nipple, making her come harder.
Shai, he was going to spend in his trousers he was so aroused. Passionate? Oh yes, Luterian passionate, but more than that, she was Corsaire passionate. Kane felt her little cunt pulsing against his thumb, around his fingers as she finally released, her thighs shaking. She slowly stilled, relaxing, little catches in her breathing as he withdrew his fingers from inside her. He was stroking her swollen outer lips gently, still touching her silkiness, enjoying her slick little pussy, the Corsaire flinching.
He couldn't help looking at her body, pleased and satisfied to know it, and very aroused right now. He would take her back, talk to her, explain, and then they'd finish what they'd started here, this time in her bed and he wouldn't stop.
#
Emma took a shuddering breath as the pleasure faded in sharp twinges and small waves, Kane's hand still between her legs, his fingers. She flinched again and again as he continued to touch her, too sensitive. Her nipples ached and throbbed, a breeze on their wet tips making her shiver, even that small stimulation too much.
She had realized when he started undoing the buttons of her riding habit, what he wanted. He had changed his mind. He'd paid for her, paid to do what he wanted, to have sex with her. At first she'd been nervous, but when he had started to touch her, she hadn't cared. The pleasure had been overwhelming.
His eyes were on her face again, his cruel, beautiful face intent on her, his changing eyes that were darkened under sweeping brows, always so intense. She couldn't slow her breathing. His fingers were still on her naked sex, a long slow touch bottom to top, her breath stuttering, the whole area slippery. His hand slowly emerged from her skirts and his tongue came out and he touched his fingers to it, licking them, his eyes even more intense now. She shivered.
"You're very wet," he said, kissing her again.
She could taste herself on his tongue. He finally straightened, stepping back and looking at her body, smiling slowly, that smile he did. His eyes lingered on her breasts and then lower. She looked down. She could see her thighs, all the way up her legs. Her breasts were fully exposed through her open jacket, the nipples jutting and red and hard, her chemise open and around her waist. Her bloomers were somewhere. Between her legs felt swollen and slick, all of it throbbing.
She sat up quickly, tugging her chemise, looking down, her hands shaking now, tying the ribbon. That was sex. She assumed that had been sex. Miss Stram had said once that sex hurt and women had to endure it. That hadn't hurt. Quite the opposite.
He handed her bloomers to her and she stood and stepped into them as he watched, pulling them up, tying them. She was still shaking. She had been entirely undone by the intense pleasure. The sounds she had made. She cringed a little. She would cry if he said something.
