CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Iliana~
This was pleasant. More than pleasant. When Jareth had said he wished to hold her until she fell asleep, she had believed he really meant to persuade her to rut. But he had meant he wished to talk privately. It was comforting to lie beside him in the darkness. It made it easy to say things she had concealed earlier. It made her happy. Not deliriously joyful, but as if she had finally found a home. Which was ridiculous because despite his promises, she still didn’t have one.
And he was correct that dragons were warm-blooded. Lying beside him was like lying beside her own personal brazier. She wasn’t going to be cold or damp with him by her side. Some of her dread of becoming cold faded. He had let go of her hand when she turned to face him. She groped for his. He clasped hers and squeezed it gently. Reassuringly.
“You said you would hold me until I fell asleep,” she reminded him.
“Of course.” He pulled her gently toward his chest until they touched all the way along the fronts of their bodies. He kissed her forehead. “Good night.”
His arms were around her waist. Her forehead leaned against his chin. She felt safe and warm. And happy. And something else. She could smell his scent, a delicious masculine blend that was his alone. I would know him anywhere, she thought sleepily.
She could feel her breathing keeping time with his. His heart was a steady beat against her skin. And then she was no longer sleepy. His drill lay between them, thick and hard, pressing against her hill. Her kunta softened and grew damp. Her pulse leapt in surprise at her response.
“What is it?” he murmured against her hair.
“You wish to rut,” she said. “Your thing is hard.”
“My cock is.”
She giggled. “Is that what you call it? Cock of the hill?”
“Yes.” He stroked her arm and shoulder gently.
“Does that make my kunta a hen?” she asked curiously.
He gasped and then chuckled. The sound went right through her as a pleasant vibration that set off a sort of humming all through her body. “Not a hen, a pussy.”
She giggled again. Curiously, she was having fun.
His voice too was full of laughter. “Cunt or cunta is not a suitable word for you to use – except with me. You may say what you please to me. But since you learned that word, it has become an insult.”
Oh. Well, she had seen language change over and over. It never stayed the same. Look how breeches had become pants. If a pussy meant the same thing as a kunta, she could learn to use it. “Meow.”
He crowed like a rooster against her head. Softly, as no rooster ever born had ever announced sunrise.
She snuggled closer. “We can rut if you need to,” she offered.
“I don’t need to make love, Iliana.” He kissed the side of her head. “I’m hard because that is my response to you. It’s not a problem. Go to sleep.”
Why was he so hard to convince? To seduce? Her body must not please him, despite the hardness of his cock. She tried again. “You may rut if you wish.”
“I like being hard. Doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it. You go to sleep.”
His voice was making her feel things she had not felt before. She tingled there. In her pussy. “Meow,” she said again and stretched like a cat, rubbing lightly against him. The sleeping garment might as well not have been there. She could feel his hard smoothness as if it were not.
“Not sleepy after all?” he asked softly. His words vibrated against her earlobe.
She tried to be honest. “I don’t know.”
His lips brushed her earlobe. Pulled it into his mouth and tickled it gently with his tongue. She stretched languidly. He took his hot mouth away from the lobe and blew softly. The tingle made her jump.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“I do.” Her voice was a breathy purr. Was she becoming a cat?
He blew again. Took the earlobe back into his mouth and suckled it. The tingles spread down to her breasts which swelled with pleasure. He ran kisses down her jaw to her neck and back up again. Now she was wriggling like a cat being stroked.
His nose nuzzled her at the junction of neck and shoulder. He breathed in deeply. Moaned with pleasure. His fingers lightly traced her collarbones and circled her aching breasts. He softly rubbed her silky sleeping dress against her flesh. Those teasing touches made her nipples tighten into throbbing peaks.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered. Her huskiness had increased.
“Playing. Am I pleasing you?”
“Very much.”
“If you would like to, I too would like to be touched.”
“I’m not sure how to stroke a rooster.”
He snorted. An abortive laugh. “You could begin with my chest.”
She ran her fingers over his collarbones as he had done to her. Except that he was entirely naked. His breathing became as ragged as her own. Emboldened, she traced his muscles. They stood out, hard and sleek. He too had nipples. Small flat ones.She could feel that they were bumpy and puckered. She thought he twitched when she played with them.
She wet her fingertip in her mouth and touched his nipples harder. They stiffened further. His cock nudged her. He groaned. Accomplishment made her giddy. Or his scent. It was hard to say.
“Do you like that?” she asked.
“Yup.” He imitated her by tickling her stiff nipples with wet fingers. She had been correct. The sleeping costume might as well not be there. But she liked the way it smoothed over her aching flesh.
Her moans of pleasure grew louder and louder. She could no longer concentrate on touching Jareth. And when he put his mouth to her breast and suckled, that tingle became flashes of lightning that struck her pussy in waves that grew stronger and stronger.
Deep inside her, and especially through her bottom, her muscles tightened and released. She moaned aloud. She was hovering on the brink of great pleasure or great pain. Iliana wanted to halt Jareth. No, she wanted him to continue. His mouth suckled in rhythm with the lightning in her pussy. And then he covered her bush with his big hand and rubbed lightly.
Her legs fell open of their own volition. He roved between them and all around her sex, patting, stroking, tickling.
“May I?” he begged.
What? He wanted to drill her pussy now? At this moment when something wonderful lay just out of her grasp? But she had promised to obey him. “Yes.” Her voice was strangled.
Jareth pushed a finger slowly into her and circled just the entrance to her passage. His finger was much smaller than his cock and felt good in her aching pussy. She could hear how wet she was and feel her juices when his finger dabbed them outside. That feeling of an impending earthquake grew stronger.
His finger probed her again. He stroked the top of her passage with a curled finger, while his thumb drew circles outside where her kunta was most sensitive. She screamed. He pressed down with his thumb and up with his fingers and the threatened earthquake convulsed her entire body. She screamed as loudly as the wraith.
She was floating. She had shattered into tiny pieces. She was radiant joy and sweaty exhaustion. Stars danced before her eyes. Jareth’s arms held her tightly against his damp body and let her body rejoin. Her soul sought his. The difference between his body and hers vanished. She felt his happiness as well as her own. Their mouths met, his opened, and she shared his breath.
How long they lay like that breathing and exchanging breath and scent, she did not know. Her soul felt complete. Her body trembled as fresh ripples spread through it. She surrendered to bliss as body and soul attained a peak in the safe harborage of his arms.
“Go to sleep,” he said.
She had promised to obey. Between one breath and the next she did.