Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
“Keep your hands above your head,” Kalos tells me, and a hint of a smile curls his hard mouth. “Right where I put them. Understand?”
And before I can answer, he sinks to his feet. Kneeling before me, he puts his hands on my hips and buries his face into the cradle of my thighs.
Oh. Oh. That’s what this is about.
He lifts my skirts just enough to duck under them. Then his hot breath is on my thighs, and I’m painfully, exquisitely aware of my current lack of panties.
“You smell like sex,” he murmurs, and his tongue dips against the top of my cleft. “I could drink in the smell of you all day long. Maybe I’ll just stay here. Pull up a stool and just tongue this sweet cunt all day long. I do still have my five kisses to claim. I could take them right now. In fact, here’s the first one.”
And then his mouth is on me.
I whimper, twisting as his tongue flirts with the seam of my pussy. His hands stroke the outsides of my thighs, then slide up to grip my buttocks and push my pelvis forward. I shoot a quick glance over at the door, panting. “Omos—he’s going to walk in—”
“Omos knows exactly what we’re doing,” Kalos continues between tonguing my folds. “Why do you think he ran so quickly?”
Oh. Oh god. I should be embarrassed. Our host knows Kalos isn’t himself right now. Hell, I know Kalos isn’t himself right now. I should push him away, but then his tongue skates deeper and he finds my clit, and everything in me just quivers. I gulp for breath, and he teases the hard bud of my clit with the tip of his tongue and takes me into his mouth.
A hard little cry escapes me, and my hands fall. I clutch his head through the fabric of my skirt. “Kalos—you—we—we shouldn’t. I don’t want you—regretting—later—” I choke on the words, utterly distracted by his tongue as it teases my clit.
His hands squeeze my ass. “Won’t. You think I haven’t wanted to do this for ages?” He presses a kiss to the crisp curls on my mound. “If I wasn’t Apathy, I’d have debauched you a hundred times over.”
He would?
“Say you want me,” he demands, his hands stealing to my backside once more and playing with the cleft of my ass.
“I want you,” I admit. “God, I want you. I’ve wanted you since that first kiss. I didn’t think you wanted me back.”
“Apathy is a nightmare,” he agrees, his fingers dipping between my buttocks to seek out the pucker of my ass. “I’d have ditched this Aspect a dozen times over already if not for you.”
That’s…sweet. I want to tell him just that, but his fingers are playing with my ass, and his thumb presses into my core and I bite the back of my hand to keep from crying out and making so much noise that Omos is sure to come running.
“That’s it,” Kalos murmurs. “Ride my thumb. My cock is much bigger, but we can pretend for a moment, can’t we?” His tongue drifts along my clit again and he’s tonguing it once more. I lift my thigh, bracing it against his shoulder while he goes to town on my pussy. His thumb works in and out of me while his mouth is on my clit, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
By the time I climax, I don’t care how much noise I’m making. I crumple against the wall, pleasure-spasms rocking through me as wetness drips down the insides of my thighs. I finish with a final little whimper and push his enthusiastic tongue away.
He rolls onto his back, lying flat on the floor, and gives me a look of pure self-satisfaction. His mouth is flushed and wet, and Kalos is watching me with heated, smoky eyes full of amusement. “Fuck the High Father, the fun we would have had if I’d been Hedonism this entire time, eh?”
I manage a small smile, but I think if he’d been Hedonism the entire time, he would have killed me. Death by oral sex…but what a way to go.
One Week Later
When I unwrap the book from its waterproof protective leather bag and hold it out to Metta inside her tiny cottage, she wrinkles her nose at me as if I’ve handed her something foul. “What’s this?”
Isn’t it obvious? “It’s a book.”
She sniffs, dismissive, and pushes it away. “I can’t read. No one in this village can.”
I’m determined not to show my disappointment, even though her dismissive reaction is a little spirit-crushing. I’ve been working on this book night and day for the last week, and I have about ten pages sketched out, along with ideas for more. Before I go further, I want to show Metta what I’ve got so far so I can get feedback. It makes no sense to complete a full book with hundreds of pages if they won’t use it. “It’s full of pictures,” I tell her brightly, sitting down on one of the small stools positioned in front of her front door. I open the book up to the first page. I point at the first completed drawing, and the tiny person with pain lines radiating from their head in the top left corner. “You look at the art to see which one matches your ailment, and the rest of the page will show you how the cure works.”