A Lesson in Thorns (Thornchapel #1)(89)

I do, and Delphine smiles at me. A slightly mischievous smile, as if her own orgasm has emboldened her, or maybe it’s Rebecca at her side, coaching her and telling her what to do. How to lean forward and cup my pussy so hard that my back arches off the blankets. How to take my tight nipples between her teeth and tug just enough to make me cry out, suck just sweetly enough to make me melt back down into the blankets.

She does all these things and more, she daisy-chains gentle bites down my stomach and my thighs, she grinds the heel of her palm against my clit until I’ve completely slicked the palm of her hand. She inches back and dips her head down and seals her lips over my bud. She sucks and licks, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, it’s both more delicate and also filthier than I ever could have imagined, having someone eat you there. Having their tongue flutter all silky and naughty and curious in your private places.

Within moments, I’m there, I’m about to come—so of course that’s when Rebecca tells Delphine to pull back.

I whimper in disappointment, and I think maybe Saint does too. His legs and feet keep moving restlessly against the blankets, and I wonder how badly he needs to touch himself right now, I wonder if that’s allowed. The realization that everyone right now is probably throbbing with the need to come shivers over me, and I have a brief fantasy of all of them—every last one of them—using my body to sate themselves. My mouth and my tight cunt and everything, until every last person is spent and loose.

I can’t stop shivering now that I’ve thought of it. I want it, I want to be used, and I want it with a ferocity I wouldn’t have thought possible before this moment. I want it like I want my thorn-bitten hand to keep hurting. I want it like I want Delphine to tongue-fuck me again.

My lord crawls over me with her hair tickling my skin and a hungry look on her face, and then she’s on me, she’s kissing me, she’s kissing me like she owns me. Kissing me like I’m her bride, her living saint, and she’s going to worship me by consuming me. Her fingers move back down, circling my clit until I’m too distracted to kiss her back properly, and then Rebecca says to Delphine, “Start with one.”

Delphine starts with one.

One slender finger tracing my inner petals until she finds the place where my body opens, stroking all around until my hips are arching to her, and then with another deep kiss, she pushes her finger inside.

It doesn’t go all the way in, she’s stopped at the second knuckle, but the slide of it is so good, so good and I already want more.

I buck shamelessly for it, trying to chase her touch, lure her into slipping another finger in, and Rebecca just shakes her head at me, like she’s witnessing something tragic.

“Our poor little slut,” she says to Delphine. “I think she can’t help herself. I think you better give her more.”

Delphine gives me another finger, sliding the first one out and then pushing back in with two. I make a happy noise, my toes curling as she turns her hand so that her fingers drag against something swollen and sensitive inside me on her way out. Her fingers aren’t as big as Auden’s, so I’m not stretched too wide—at least not until she adds a third finger, and the stretch of that makes me thrash and twist.

“Should we have the boys hold her still, you think?” Rebecca asks Delphine.

Delphine’s eyes glint down at me as she says with a wicked grin, “Yes, I think we should.”

Saint and Auden need no further prodding; Saint moves so that my head is pillowed on his arm and his body is pressed to the side of mine, and Auden moves closer too, taking my bloody, aching hand in his. Both men hook strong legs around my thighs, trapping me open, keeping me spread like a pinned butterfly on a board.

And something changes then. I’m not sure exactly what, only that it does. Only that we go from two submissive virgins exploring sex with the help of a Domme back to lord and bride so fast that I can’t believe we ever slipped out of the roles at all. Delphine is braced over me, fire painting every gold part of her scarlet and shadows dancing over her face as she begins fucking me in earnest, and the trees are all around us and so are the crumbled walls and the altar and the thorns hidden in the dark.

I have that feeling again, like I’m surrounded by fluttering veils, like God and magic and history are seeping out from underneath those veils and seeping into me, and just by being here, I’m being made holy and anointed. I remember the feeling of cupping a blessing in my palm, but now it’s as if I’m cupping a blessing inside my entire body, and it’s time for me to spill it out, and if I don’t spill it out, I’ll burst with it, I’ll simply burst.

Rebecca doesn’t need to tell Delphine to push harder, Delphine’s as caught up in the moment as I am, as much the lord as I am the saint, and so she drives her fingers inexorably in, in, in, wedging me and spreading me and doing something that hurts so much that I start crying.

Delphine pauses but I shake my head at her. “Keep going,” I breathe. “I like to cry.”

I really do.

The pain is like stabbing or biting or—fuck, tearing—that’s what it is, I’m being torn open, and I know the moment it happens, because I arch my neck and let out a low scream, and the minute I do, my clit swells up and my orgasm swells up right along with it, ready to pop like a balloon. Delphine fucks me with slow, wide movements, her thumb finding my clit to rub it in time with the thrusts of her hand, and the pain has spun itself into gold now, into pure, glimmering gold. It feels so good to be fucked, so good like I never want it to stop; I want to be fucked forever, I want fucking to be my new job. I could stay poised in this moment for the rest of my life, with the fire jumping and the distant beat of drums thudding through my blood, and the memory of pain feeding the greedy pleasure building in my womb.