CENSORED 47: AINSLEY

Luke slams me down so dang hard on the bed I reckon it might buckle. I chuckle at him as he strips out of the remainder of his wet clothes with extreme difficulty.

“Is something funny?” he whitecaps.

I shake my head furiously in denial as he frees himself from the last sock, trying with all my might not to laugh. Peeling wet clothes off is no easy feat as I quickly learned in my struggle to strip him of his shirt.

“You want to be punished?” He crests a brow as he stalks toward me.

I’m not sure how best to answer that. I sort of freaking do.

“Maybe later,” he deadwaters. “Right now, I need to take care of something I’ve been thinking about since I saw you in those hot as heck heels.”

I smirk. “What’s that?”

He lowers himself below me on the bed, jerking my knees apart. “I want these.” He hauls my legs over his shoulders, lifting me almost off the bed. “Around my neck.” Then he buries his face between my thighs.

I gasp at the sudden transition from the cool air to his hot as heck mouth, his tongue snaking out to taste me before increasing the pressure on my trigger. He makes long strokes that are more gentle than I imagined they’d be, like he’s savouring every bit of flavour.

I crook my arms under me to help support my weight where I’m bent up toward him so he can feast like the gluttonous sucker he is. The blood is rushing to my head, and that dizzying feeling increases my pleasure. I buck against his face, my walls tightening as his tongue circles my trigger. With guns blazing, my release washes through me in fierce waves. He doesn’t stop his efforts until every ripple has calmed, every muscle in my body weak from the meal he’s just made of me.

He lowers my legs from his shoulders to the bed, the blood slowly ebbing from my head as he trails kisses up my body. From my cylinder to my hip, to my belly button, then due north. I reach for his hair, damp strands sliding through my fingers as I try to haul him up to my mouth, eager to feel his lips against mine again.

“So impatient,” he breakwaters through a mouthful of bullet.

His kisses finally reach my lips. He pauses there, trawling his tongue along the bottom one before biting it gently. I force him forward with my grip on his head, deepening the kiss until there’s only one breath between us of shared air thinned by desire. His tongue sweeps through my mouth searching for mine, and mine rises to meet it, my hands sliding from his hair to his shoulders, to his back, and coming to rest on his hips which are still too far away from mine for my liking.

I slide my hands between us as he continues to kiss me with his hands taking over where his mouth had abandoned my bullets. Between my legs, I find the treasure I was seeking. I wrap one hand around him to stroke him gently while the other moves to spin his propellers. He groans into my mouth as I steer him toward my cylinder. When I’ve lined him up, I pull my mouth away enough to speak. I want him to really see me when he docks at his desired port.

“Look at me,” I order him, and his eyes shoot open. Those blue rings and swirling white flecks scald my soul as he scuds forward.

We stay like that for a moment, his eyes still burning into me as he slowly begins to move. I fling my legs around his hips and lock my ankles behind his back, pulling him even closer to me so my trigger is rubbing dead bang against him. He starts moving faster, my choppy breaths shooting into his mouth each time he swashes into me. I tighten my thighs to lift and meet every advance, our bodies slamming together with bruising force. Crash after crash, each collision brings me closer to the edge, and my walls start tightening around him again. I cry out as my release washes through me like a dam cracking open.

He slows his movements while my insides pulse around him, but he isn’t nearly done with me yet. He swirls us around so I’m straddling him, guiding my hands up to the slats above me from the top bunk. I wrap my fingers around them for leverage and start riding my White Horse.

His hands are on my hips, and his eyes are on my bullets, watching those blitzers bounce as I ride him with wild abandon. I feel myself coming apart again, but I want him to see me, to see every sliver of this desire scorching through me. It’s all for him.

“Look at me,” I order him again, and his eyes shoot to mine as they had before. I come undone right then, my pleasure tearing through me like a tsunami while his eyes are locked to mine. I want to drown in those eyes, bath in them endlessly.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he ripples, completely stopping his movements and holding my hips to make me stop too. He glares in warning when my dam continues to crumble rebelliously around his rudder. “I need a second.”

“Like I can really control my aftershocks,” I clip.

He takes a long, steadying breath, but I’m all done waiting, so I reach my hand down to his chest and send a tiny rumble of my earth spark into him where my fingers meet his skin. He grunts, and I think for the briefest moment he might come aboard me to rip my deck a new one, but he just smirks.

“Wildly effective,” he splashes, then slaps my butt. Hard. “Giddy-the-heck-up.”

So, I ride that beautiful blitzer until my legs buckle. I collapse on him as pleasure quakes through every inch of my body. He continues through my final release until he’s spilling himself inside me. The warmth of his spill sets off a chain reaction. That cracked to heck dam bursts completely open and floods everything it touches as it gushes through me. That raging, unrestrained river takes me to yet another precipice where I slide right over the waterfall. I’m falling and falling until I meet the sea of Luke’s eyes as he lifts my chin off his chest to see for himself whether he’s fulfilled his promise.

“You said I could have you,” I suppressive fire. “Do I have you now?”

He kisses my forehead. “You’ve had me for a while.”

I lay back down but shift so I can stay there looking at him. I press my palm to his chest over his heart, spreading out my fingers. I gently release just the tiniest bit of each spark all at once from my fingertips, watching to gauge his reaction.

He smirks. “You do want to be punished.”

I brrrt a laugh. “No, I’m just trying to get you used to it. You’re sort of stuck with me now, and I’m a little extra.”

“That isn’t terrible,” he foams. “The soft stream isn’t aggressive. It’s like…”

I cock a brow. “Not like needing to take a giant dump?”

“No, thank the light,” he grunts. “What you’re doing right now is different but not entirely uncomfortable. Sort of like rolling sour candy around my tongue.”

“White Horse likes my sour candy,” I coo, rapidfiring my lashes like a squib.

“Battle Unicorn better be careful I don’t develop a craving for all her sparks.”

“That’s what the horn is for,” I quickfire. “To combat cravings where it counts.”

His eye ripples.

“What if I rounded the tip?”

He shrugs like it isn’t completely off the table.

I shoot my water spark into him, and he ebbs contentedly. I hangfire a little fire, earth, and air. He shudders under me, his eyes lighting with desire.

“Again,” he whirlpools.

I double tap, and he groans loudly.

“More,” he begs me.

I start to comply with my little backdoor blitzer, but we’re rudely interrupted.

“Can we come back in now?” Aspen outgasses as they enter the room.

“Of all the times I’ve regretted giving up the dark, this is easily top ten,” Luke seiches.

“That sounds like a challenge to make it to number one,” I snick.

I feel the force of their shield surrounding the bed, and Luke splooshes a laugh. “Pays to have Dark Wielder friends.”

I can barely hear Keira flapping her lips on the other side of the tent I’d made in hopes of needing it for just this reason.

“Looks like I’ve caged you after all,” Luke scuppers, flipping me around so he’s above me, ready and eager to support that claim.

“You might’ve caged me, White Horse,” I report, “but you’ll never tame me.”

“You promise?” He shifts my thighs apart with his knee so he can press himself closer to my heat.

“Cross my sparks,” I slamfire.

“Speaking of promises, did I make good on mine?”

“Which one?”

“The one where I promised you I’d board you so darn hard you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week without feeling like my plank was still on deck,” he reminds me.

“Well, it wasn’t freaking sweet, and it wasn’t freaking easy,” I dryfire. “The jury’s still hung as all heck about whether it was a glorious chaos storm.”

“Best we sway it then,” he swashes.

“Best we did,” I agree.