Wed to the Wild God (Aspect and Anchor)

"Oh, good," I say, laughing nervously. "Because I don't want to be shared. And the same goes for you."

"I do not want anyone else." He brandishes the dildo, eyeing the impressive length before giving me a cat-that-just-ate-the-cream smile. "Just you."

"And that thing?" I nod at the dildo.

Kassam grins widely. "I was sad I did not get to use your toys on you. I have been thinking about it for many, many days."

Even though I'm feeling a little out of my depth at the moment, hearing that from him makes my body pulse with hunger. "Have you?"

"Constantly," he purrs at me, and then runs the tip of the thing down my belly. "You have your word. Are you going to use it?"

I bite back a whimper, squirming against the silk ties. "No."

"My perfect little light," Kassam murmurs. "You have no idea how much that pleases me."

"Will you kiss me first?" I ask, breathless. He looks thrilled at my request, tossing the dildo down on the bed beside me and leaning over my body. His mouth brushes over mine, and I moan when his tongue slicks into my mouth. God, he kisses like a dream. His tongue dances against mine, tasting, teasing, and sending little flares of pleasure all through my body. His weight is heavy against mine, but I like it, and I like that his scent is everywhere—he smells like sunshine and outdoors and sun-kissed skin, and I'm obsessed with it.

Kassam gives me another hungry kiss, then gently bites my lower lip. At my whimper, he grins and kisses lower, then cups my aching breasts. I tug at my wrists, practically sobbing my need when he teases both nipples at the same time, massaging the rounded weight of each breast before returning to the tips to torment them. Nothing has ever felt so good, and the fact that I'm helpless to push him away or to touch him anywhere just adds to the pleasure of it. By the time he squeezes one breast to feed the nipple into his mouth, I'm whining like a madwoman, making frantic little keening noises as he laps at my skin.

I need it.

Need him.

So, so badly. "Kassam!" I cry out as he scrapes his teeth over one breast. "Please, let me touch you. Please, please."

"Later," he says, nuzzling at the tip in a way that makes my pussy clench in response. "Are you ready for the oil?"

"No," I whine, wriggling against his touch.

"Then use your word," he commands, flicking a finger against my quartz necklace.

I squirm against the bonds, aroused and panting. I don't want to ask, but I also don't want to stop. "Fine, you fucker," I explode. "Give me the oil. Just make me come."

He laughs at my angry response. "So furious when all I want to do is pleasure you." With a grin, he flicks his tongue over one nipple and then sits up. "You are welcome to use your word at any time if you wish this to stop. If you do not, I will assume it is all delicious. Like you said, sometimes no means yes."

I hate that he's tossing my words into my face, and even more, that they're turning me on. I watch, breathless, as he pours a good bit of oil into his hand, the contents slopping over his fingers and down his arm. He gives me a burning look and then rubs his hands together, oiling them both. "Ready?"

God, is he going to make me beg for every step of the way? "Yes!"

He slicks one warm hand over my breast, teasing and plucking at the nipple. I gasp, because the oil adds an entirely new dimension to the feel of his skin against mine, and it's incredible. He greases up both of my breasts and toys with them for a time, then moves between my thighs. "Spread for me, little light."

Shamelessly, I do so, and he slides those slick fingers up and down my folds, circling my clit and making me arch up on the bed. His hands are so slick that his fingers feel like silk over my skin, and my lips part in a wordless cry as he rubs my clit back and forth, bringing me toward climax—

—only to stop when I'm at the edge. Legs trembling, I shoot him a glare.

He gives me a slow, teasing grin and moves one slippery finger to the entrance of my body, pushing in and then skating back out again. I whimper a protest, and he pushes two fingers into me, then three, fucking me with lazy, unhurried movements. "We need to make sure you can take it," he murmurs. "It's a very big toy, much bigger than your little one."

I moan, rocking against his hand as he works me. I'm so close again. "Yes," I pant. "Yes, yes, please."