Amanda Angel
Top Of The World
The scene cracked open with Lynn Stone sliding her fingers under the hem of her silk slip, lifting it slow so the elf with the copper beard could watch every inch of skin come into view. She knew the joke - a human courier bartering freight in Faerie - yet here she stood, nipples already tight from the cool cave air and a hell of a lot more than nerves. He chuckled, low, horns catching lantern light, then closed the distance and caught both her wrists in one broad palm. She rose on her toes, let him guide her onto the fur-covered slab, legs parting because that was the deal. He licked a stripe up her inner thigh, breath hot, then nosed between her folds like he meant to map her by scent alone. Tongue broad, deliberate, he licked until her hips jerked and slick coated his stubbled chin. Lynn laughed, half moan, and grabbed one curved horn for balance. When she rocked against his mouth, he sucked her clit between blunt teeth, teasing, until she swore and came with a gasp that echoed off the stone. Only then did he stand, push linen breeches down, and slide the thick length of his cock through the wet mess he'd made of her. One thrust, deep, and she felt the ridged underside drag across every sensitive spot. Her heels dug into the small of his back, pulling him deeper; he set a slow grind, savoring the squeeze. She reached down, circled her own clit with two fingers while he fucked her, matching rhythm until another climax coiled tight and snapped. He followed, grinding hard, filling her with hot pulses that leaked around his shaft and down her thighs. Breathless, grinning like she'd just won a bet, Lynn flopped back against the furs, slip rucked around her waist, legs still trembling around an ancient fae who looked pleased as any tavern regular after happy hour.
The scene cracked open with Lynn Stone sliding her fingers under the hem of her silk slip, lifting it slow so the elf with the copper beard could watch every inch of skin come into view. She knew the joke - a human courier bartering freight in Faerie - yet here she stood, nipples already tight from the cool cave air and a hell of a lot more than nerves. He chuckled, low, horns catching lantern light, then closed the distance and caught both her wrists in one broad palm. She rose on her toes, let him guide her onto the fur-covered slab, legs parting because that was the deal. He licked a stripe up her inner thigh, breath hot, then nosed between her folds like he meant to map her by scent alone. Tongue broad, deliberate, he licked until her hips jerked and slick coated his stubbled chin. Lynn laughed, half moan, and grabbed one curved horn for balance. When she rocked against his mouth, he sucked her clit between blunt teeth, teasing, until she swore and came with a gasp that echoed off the stone. Only then did he stand, push linen breeches down, and slide the thick length of his cock through the wet mess he'd made of her. One thrust, deep, and she felt the ridged underside drag across every sensitive spot. Her heels dug into the small of his back, pulling him deeper; he set a slow grind, savoring the squeeze. She reached down, circled her own clit with two fingers while he fucked her, matching rhythm until another climax coiled tight and snapped. He followed, grinding hard, filling her with hot pulses that leaked around his shaft and down her thighs. Breathless, grinning like she'd just won a bet, Lynn flopped back against the furs, slip rucked around her waist, legs still trembling around an ancient fae who looked pleased as any tavern regular after happy hour.