“There you are, mate,” he whispers reverently, his eyes brimming with tender affection.
Then he closes the distance slowly before his lips touch mine, and just like that, his key opens my lock.
19
The kiss starts out vulnerable and delicate. Like it’s this fragile thing that could be shattered if rushed or not cared for. Treno bends my head back and devours my offered mouth, but it doesn’t feel dominating or possessive, it’s gentle in a I have you, and I always will kind of way.
I’m floored by the raw emotion I taste on both of our lips, and I tell my brain to let go of all the what happens nows that are floating around in my mind, waiting for me to snatch them up and fling them at Treno and then examine them myself. I tell my head to sweep away the but what does this means and shove each there’s no going back from this next to them on the shelf.
I just got all of that armor of doubt, second-guessing, and hurt off, and I’m not putting it back on for anything.
His lips are benevolent, his tongue contrite, and even though he doesn’t speak an apology into existence between us, I can feel it in the way he holds me and taste it in his kiss. My mouth and body offer absolution, and my nimble fingers make quick work of the laces that hold the neck of his shirt closed.
My needy hands skim down his torso until I find the hem of his tunic and pull it up. Our kiss breaks as he pulls my shirt off too, and then we both hurriedly move to each other’s pants. Mine come away and drop to my ankles with no issue, but my tongue stalls against his expert guidance as his crotch laces become literal cock blocks.
“Fucking hell, what did you do, tie a bunch of damn sailing knots down here?” I demand, pulling from his lips so I can focus all my concentration on the ties of his pants. “Are these of Celtic origin or blessed by nuns, because this is some bullshit,” I grumble when I still can’t get them undone.
Treno laughs and then immediately chokes on it when I call on help in the form of a Nike swoosh blade. “Whoa!” he calls out, his hips jumping away from me, and I growl at the misbehavior.
I take a minute and assess that I did just get mad when he wouldn’t let me attempt to cut him out of his pants, and Pigeon flashes me the tumbleweed desert image again. I roll my eyes but decide to put the gnarly looking black blades away.
“You’ll hear no complaints from me about your eagerness, but one slip of the grip on those blades and neither one of us would be happy for a very long time,” he tells me on a chuckle, but it soon turns into a growl when he can’t get the ties of his pants undone either.
I raise one eyebrow in challenge, because I know he’s thinking about calling on a blade now too. Pigeon sends me an image of her drumming her talons on a table impatiently, but I home in on the sharp claws and experience an aha moment.
Oprah was right, this shit really is life changing.
I partially shift my hand until one sharp black talon stretches out from the tip of my finger, and then I close the distance between Treno and me and carefully thread the claw up the crisscross of laces. I pull my hand toward me, shredding the ties and jerking Treno’s body against mine. He gives an approving growl, and I see his gryphon rise up in his eyes, like he’s riding Treno with as much excitement as Pigeon is riding me.
I release the shift of my hand, and Treno’s hungry mouth claims mine as he finally shoves his pants down, and I climb him like a flight of stairs until the inside of my knees are resting on the inside of his elbows. He grabs my ass and kisses me hard as I wrap my arms around his neck. He lifts me up, and I feel him lining up just right and then dropping me down on him just the way I like it.
I moan and revel in how he feels inside of me, and his kiss morphs into a sexy grin as he pulls his lips from mine and seats himself as deeply as he can.
Fuck, I missed this!
He nips at my neck as he angles his hips back and slips out of me to the tip. “This is us, flower, always connected, never to be ripped apart again,” he declares, and then he buries himself inside of me, and I cry out a resounding yes as I grind against him. He looks around and quickly spots whatever it is that he’s looking for, because he starts walking us to the right as I hold onto his neck and work myself up and down on him.
“Yes, flower,” he groans and sucks on where my neck connects with my shoulder as my thighs slap against his hips, and the beginnings of an orgasm start to tingle between my thighs.
The next thing I know, Treno is laying me down on a soft cool bed of grass and taking control of things. “Mmmmm,” he hums against my ear as he kisses down my neck, over the scar across my throat, and up until his lips are skimming my opposite ear. “It doesn't get better than you on your back, opened up to me and screaming my name,” he purrs in my ear, rolling his hips until he’s lighting up all kinds of things
