“Yes. Now you’re no longer asking me why I’m dripping.”
She buries her face against my chest, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Cruel of you to toss that in my face.”
“I thought it was charming. I think I fell in love with you in that moment.”
“Well, you had a funny way of showing it. I thought you hated me for the longest time.”
Never. “Just fighting my feelings. I’m not good with them.”
Aspeth smiles up at me, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Taurian or human or fae or anything else. Nothing can compare to my wife’s teasing smile. I want to crush her against me and hold her tight and never let her go. “I still haven’t yelled at you for your stunt in the tunnels.”
“Tomorrow,” she tells me, her hand tightening around my cock. She gives me a pump with her fist, one that makes my breath catch. “Tomorrow we think about the rest of the world. Tonight I just want it to be us.”
I like that idea.
FIFTY-ONE HAWK
Ireach over and tug the shirt over her head and then untie the laces of her corset, grumbling at how many layers women wear. All the while she pets and toys with my cock. It seems to take forever to get her undressed, but once her clothes are pooling at her feet, there’s nothing but soft, dimpled flesh in front of my eyes and I want to feast on her forever.
I cup one heavy breast, pleased that it’s large enough to fill my hand. Her nipple puckers and I stroke it even as I rub my muzzle against her face and neck. Her hand continues to tease my cock, but it doesn’t take long for me to get as hard as a rock. I know from my hazy memories of our time in the crypt that Aspeth is responsive, but she needs to be petted a bit first. So I haul her over to the bed, set her down on the mattress, and lie down next to her. I use one hand to play with her gorgeous breasts while I finger her cunt until she’s slick with arousal.
She makes these sweet, gaspy noises when I touch her that set my body on fire with need, and I stand up to move between her parted thighs, murmuring encouragement as I fit my cock to her entrance. She’s hot and wet and clutches at my cock like a glove, and when I rock over her, she moans and wraps her legs around my waist.
“I like the knot,” she pants between my thrusts, her tits bouncing as I fuck her, “but this is nicer.” Her hand strays down my arm, and she digs her nails into my muscles, her back arching. “Oh gods, you feel huge even now.”
Such flattery.
I make love to my wife, my strokes leisurely and deep as I claim her, and when Aspeth comes, she quakes around my cock and holds tightly to me, her orgasm a thing of beauty as she falls apart in my arms. Then it’s my turn, and I slide my thumb over her clit, making sure she feels every stroke as I pound into her. Her cunt clenches around me a second time as I come, and then stars dance before my eyes, my hooves slamming on the wood floor as I grind deep inside her, shooting my release.
Aspeth runs her fingers over my pectorals while I come back to myself. “We never had birth control. In the crypt. Or now.”
It’s something I thought about, days after, while Aspeth sat in prison and waited for the king to arrive in Vastwarren. I reach for the table next to the bed and pull out the drawer, producing a bead on a leather thong. “You can wear this.”
She sits up—or tries to, except I’ve got her pinned, her hips locked to mine. “Is that a Prellian pause-bead?”
“Aye. You’ve seen them?”
“Heard of them. The books were very reticent to discuss anything that affected female anatomy. How does it work?”
“As long as you wear this, even if you’re pregnant now, nothing in your womb will advance in time until you take it off. We’ll handle the whole children thing when you’re ready.”
Aspeth pauses. “What if I’m never ready?”
“Then you can wear that to your grave.” I nuzzle another kiss against her jaw. “I just want you to be happy, Aspeth. I’ve never demanded children from you. Never would.”
“I know. I just…I’m not ready yet. I think I would like children but not now. Not with everything so uncertain.” She slips the bead over her head. “Maybe in a year?”
“Whatever you decide,” I say, and I mean it. “You—”
There’s an urgent knock at the front door.
We both groan. Aspeth skitters out from under me, grabbing a robe and wrapping it around her body. “Are you expecting someone?”
I shake my head. “Perhaps one of the others forgot something? They’ve been moved into the repeater barracks.” Her expression clouds, and I know she’s thinking of them and the trouble she’s caused. I squeeze her hand, because it wasn’t as if she forced anyone to do anything. They are her friends and chose to help her. They have a chance to enter the guild again next season. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“I can’t help it—”
The knock at the door occurs again, louder and more insistent, and I growl in frustration. If it’s Magpie, I’m going to march her to the nearest jail. I shove pants on while Aspeth cleans up, and I head out to the main entrance, my hooves stomping and expressing my irritation loudly to all. When Aspeth appears in the doorway to the bedroom with the robe tight around her body, I move to the front door and fling it open.
A guild scholar is there, his hand raised as if he means to knock a third time. He shrinks back at the sight of an angry Taurian looming in the doorway, uncertainty on his face. He holds a box in his arms and clutches it tightly even as he steps back. “I was told Lady Aspeth was here?”
“My wife is tired. Guild business can wait.” It can wait forever, as far as I’m concerned. They’ve made her miserable enough. “Come back tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month.”
Aspeth pushes past me, squinting. Then a look of surprise crosses her face at our visitor. “Archivist Kestrel? Is something wrong?”
He brightens at the sight of Aspeth. “Lady, pleased to meet you again. Nothing is wrong. Well, not yet. There is a matter of some urgency and I thought to ask you something. You can read Prellian, yes?”
She glances up at me and then gives a tiny nod. “Old better than new, of course. New Prellian is region-dependent and we don’t have great examples of some of the more far-flung regions….” Aspeth trails off as he opens the box in front of her, revealing it like he would some sort of offering. “Oh. A sistral?”
The archivist nods eagerly. “You know of them?”
Aspeth pulls the thing carefully out of the box. “Just that they were musical instruments. So few of them have been found intact and I’m told the only two enchanted ones are in Lord Besral’s care.” She holds it reverently, squinting in the flickering light, and then makes a frustrated sound. “Come inside.”
The little man hurries inside, carefully giving me as much space as he can. If I wasn’t in the process of going to bed with my wife, I’d be amused. As it is, I’m cranky and feeling protective. “Aspeth has had a long day,” I warn him. “This had better be quick.”
“This is an instrument scheduled to ship out to Lord Besral tomorrow, actually,” Archivist Kestrel says, trotting after Aspeth as she strides toward the nest’s communications desk. “That’s why I’m here tonight. I need a second opinion on the inscription, and my colleagues and I cannot agree. I know Lady Aspeth is supposed to be an expert with reading glyphs, and so here I am.”
