Let’s see . . . safe and sound within the wardings of the Vortex . . . well rested after a really good night’s sleep on Alonnen’s . . . Alonnen.
She blushed, remembering. His lips nibbling on hers, the suckling pull of his mouth on her nipple . . . the feel of those fingers stroking and sliding the fabric of her sleeping trousers through her folds. A shiver rippled through her muscles, bringing with it a flush of renewed desire.
Along with memory came a realization. He didn’t . . . he didn’t get to have any fun himself, last night. She blinked up at the ceiling, then knuckled away the grit of sleep. That isn’t right. I should’ve . . . Well, it’s a bit late for last night, but not too late for this morning, Rexei decided. She wasn’t ignorant of the theory of how sexual urges worked in men, not after a decade of pretending to be “one of the boys.” Right now, presuming he had enjoyed a good night’s sleep, Alonnen would be feeling the first stirrings of morning pressure.
Before she could lose her courage and backpedal herself into thinking this was going to be a bad idea, Rexei got up and headed for the bedroom door. She did hesitate before touching the panel, but only because she wasn’t sure whether to knock first or not. After a brief mental debate, she rapped lightly on the wood with a knuckle, then pushed on the handle.
A soft grunt met the opening of the door. She heard Alonnen trying again. “Mmfh . . . Rexei? Whazzit?”
He sounds rather cute like that, she decided, smiling shyly. “Shhh,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I’m just . . . um . . . returning the favor.”
“Huh?” Cloth rustled as he turned over and pushed up on one elbow.
Crossing to the bed, Rexei pulled up the covers on the left side and crawled under them. Her sleeping shirt and trousers weren’t thick enough to be proof against the cold winter air, but that was alright. Once she got close enough, she could feel part of the warm spot he had been occupying before rolling onto his side, and quickly huddled into it. Tugging the covers up to her neck, she gave him a shy, somewhat nervous smile.
Bemused, Alonnen studied her. Why would she come in here and crawl straight into my bed? “Bad dream?”
Rexei shook her head quickly. “Um . . . no . . . I, uh . . .” Taking a deep breath, she forced the words into the open. “I really liked what you did to me last night and, um . . . wanted to return the favor. This morning. If you want?”
Alonnen stared at her, groaned under his breath, and flopped onto the bed. On his back, because his body was instantly enthusiastic. Edging toward rampant. She took it as tacit agreement, for a moment later, her hand slid under the covers, brushed against his cloth covered hip, then fumbled a little onto the top of his groin.
Mindful of her undoubted innocence, he covered her hand with his, assisting her in cupping his thickening flesh. She squeezed him a little, fingers moving in gentle, curious exploration . . . then she wiggled her hand free from his.
Before he could ask if she was okay, he felt her fingers seeking and dipping beneath the waistband of his sleeping trousers. Breath catching, he sucked in his stomach under that tickling, explorative touch, then arched his back, lifting his groin up into her fingertips. Her skin was a little cool, a sweet, startling contrast to the heat of his manhood. Dizzy with lust, Alonnen panted, struggled for thought, and finally squirmed, shoving his sleeping clothes down below his hips, baring himself under the bedding.
Rexei blushed and bit her bottom lip at her daring; his enthusiasm did encourage her to continue, though. Twisting onto her left side, she leaned on her elbow and shifted her right hand into a better angle. Gripping his shaft, she marveled at the heat of it, the velvety-soft skin and slight spongy feel when she experimentally squeezed. His groan let her know she was doing it right.
A hundred crude comments and a thousand jokes came back to her, shared with her by men who had thought she was “one of the lads” at the time. She had even learned to give back as good as she heard, but this was the first time she actually touched one—at least, when trying to give pleasure instead of squeezing hard just to cause enough pain so that she could escape some would-be bully’s grip. This, however, was something she wanted to do right, with just enough pressure to stimulate and no more, with enough movement, enough . . . her palm stuck to his shaft, her skin a little damp from nerves.
He tolerated it for a few strokes, then nudged her gently. “There’s a jar of lotion on the nightstand, made from mint, for chapped lips and dry skin. You can use that.”
Blushing, she twisted over, found it, fumbled the lid off, and scooped a bit up with her fingertips. Careful not to get any on the bedding, she curled her fingers into a loose fist and returned them to his hip. From there, she found her way to his shaft, then gently spread the slick, mint-scented stuff onto his skin, grateful he had pushed his sleepwear even lower while she had been turned away. Not that she could see it, but she could feel it.
It helped a lot. Within moments, her fingers were able to stroke from base to tip and back with definite ease. The ointment felt extra cool on her skin because of the mint; Rexei could only imagine how it felt to the man himself, though she could guess. From the soft, deep whimpering noises and the way he tipped his hips up into each downstroke, it probably felt pretty damn good.
Mindful that he had done more to her than just stroke her folds, she leaned over, ducked her head awkwardly under the covers, and kissed his chest. His breath caught, and his hands shifted. One tugged the covers up higher over both of them, then cupped the back of her head. The other twined his fingers with hers, showing her how to squeeze and stroke faster, harder. She followed his silent instructions as best she could, breathing in the mingling scents of wintermint and musky man.
Alonnen loved the feel of her mouth nipping and tasting the muscles of his chest. It connected the nerves of his torso with those of his hips, even his legs. Groin lifting in needy rhythm, breath panting, he strained toward his bliss. Those little finger twists at the top, however, the little pulsing squeezes at the base, those blew his mind.
“So good . . .” he panted. “So . . . good . . . How’d you . . . how’d you learn to . . . do this?”
She blushed and smiled against the crinkly little hairs dusting his chest. “Lads like to gossip. I may not have one myself, but I’ve heard enough about what many like to do with theirs.” Nuzzling him, she felt something pebbled rubbing against her cheek and heard the hitch in his breath. Turning her head a little, she licked at his nipple and grinned at the way he spasmed. “Like that?”
“Slag, yes!” he gasped. She did it again and again, and his hips pistoned faster, pushing his shaft through her tightening grip. There was just enough lotion left to ease each rapid stroke, yet just enough drag to stimulate every last nerve. “R-Rexeeeei!”
Back arching, he came, hips jolting into the edge of her palm in several hard, unsteady thrusts. Hot dampness hit his chest, the sheet, and her fingers. He bucked a couple more times, then slumped, trembling. His fingers quickly covered hers, but she had already eased her movements. Settling instead on a gentle, slow-pulsing grip, his partner eased out the last few drops, then just cradled his softening shaft under her palm. Her lips dusted little kisses on his sweat-dampened skin, a tender touch that was not lost on his heart.