She parted her lips and I swooped my tongue in, mimicking the way I’d moved my cock inside her mouth, again rewarded with soft, harsh breaths. I was seized, almost possessed with need as I grabbed her neck and held her still, kissing her mouth with none of my usual finesse. I was beyond that now, needed more. Needed her.
That thought in mind, I trailed down her collarbones, stopping long enough to swipe her nipples with my tongue, then moved lower, taking only a moment’s pause to kiss the soft ridge of her stomach. I swore that one day I would take the time to explore every inch of her, but now wasn’t it. I needed to taste her, needed to see if I could give her even a fraction of the pleasure she’d given me.
And so I went lower still, not stopping until I was face-to-face with her wet core, her lower lips glistening with her desire, her musky-sweet scent almost intoxicating. I could have stared at her for days, but that urgency returned, and after placing a quick kiss on her lips, I pulled them open and exposed her to me, saw her clit, hard and protruding, the trickle of cream that ran from her hole.
Without another pause, I latched onto her clit, teasing and sucking the bud, and letting out a laugh when Esther bucked off the bed. I anchored her down by throwing an arm across her waist and then resumed my work, licking and sucking at her clit until she writhed beneath me and cream trickled out of her in a furious rush.
Something of me needed to be inside her, so I clamped my lips down around her clit and then shoved two fingers into her drenched hole. She spread easily, the warm thickness of her arousal easing the path. I pushed until I could go no further and then scissored my fingers to spread her tender tissues.
And so we continued, me teasing her tight pearl as I thrust and twisted my fingers. Her taste was divine, better than, and I was fast becoming addicted. I lapped at her, moved my fingers in and out until, on a broken cry, she went completely stiff as her orgasm raced through her. I continued, trying to wring as much pleasure as I could, kept licking and thrusting until she calmed.
I slid back up the bed to face her, watched her through hooded eyes. And Esther, always surprising, leaned forward to kiss me. But not in the chaste, meddlesome way she had that first time. This was deeper, meaningful, a fact only underscored by the taste of our combined flavors against my lips.
I broke the kiss and looked at her. “I’ve never done that,” I said, only wondering why I’d said such a thing after I’d let the words out.
Esther looked surprised momentarily, but then softened, eyes bright with a smile.
“How was it?” she asked.
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though I doubted that was even possible. “Okay, I guess,” I finally said.
A moment later, I added, “How’d I do?”
It was her turn to shrug. “Okay, I guess,” she said with a soft smile on her lips.
Then she did the most surprising thing of all. She pulled herself close to me, breasts against my chest, one of her thick, soft thighs shoved between mine, her head on my chest, and fell asleep.
Eleven
Sorin
“What happened with Constantin?” Vasile asked the next night when he sat down across from me at Familie.
“They made amends,” I said simply, not mentioning the old man’s offer. “But they are fucked when the old man dies. Their clan is going to fall apart and fast once Christoph isn’t there to lead.”
Vasile lifted a brow. “He has two sons, Anton.”
“Christoph has no heart and no balls, and Petey, well…” I shook my head and then began again. “And Anton’s not blood.”
Vasile nodded. No one knew for sure, but the old man had never claimed Anton, so there was little chance Clan Constantin would accept him.
“Shame that. If ever there was time to make an exception, it would be then. But whatever happens, we can’t let this blow back on us.”
“Should I talk to Petey?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We don’t want to look like we’re interfering, so just keep things friendly, and we’ll hope this works out.”
I leaned back. “What?” he said, eyeing me.
“You sounded almost…optimistic. I’ll have to kiss Fawn when I see her.”
“Good thing I trust you, brother,” he said.
I scoffed. “Fawn is my sister.”
“And Esther?”
“She’s not,” I replied.
My brother let out an honest-to-God laugh. I turned to him then, saw the unfamiliar expression on his face, and returned it with a smile of my own. He stood and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Kiss the baby for me,” I called to his retreating form, the low sound of his later floating back to me.