King of Cups (Stormcloud Academy 2)

“Tell me you want me again,” I ordered him.

“I. Need. You.”

That was all the encouragement I needed. I slid gently to my knees before him and grasped his meat. One flick of my tongue gave me a taste of his sweet-yet-sour precum.

“Please, baby,” he gasped. “Give me your mouth.”

He was barely half-hard, but I had to open wide to fit him in. I expected the rough handling I’d seen Tess get in the greenhouse, but it never arrived. Arvo remained ramrod straight as I took as much of that cock down my throat as possible. Closing my eyes, I savored the hardening staff, so earthy and hot. My tongue massaged the underside of his shaft and swirled around his throbbing head.

“Fuck, Biba! Fuck,” he said. “That’s so good.”

I couldn’t help but reach up and grab his taut butt to pull him deeper into my mouth. It proved too big, so I let him go and just stroked.

“You know,” I sighed, rubbing him on my cheek, “I never asked which King you are.”

He took a sip from his chalice, then tipped it slightly, pouring a stream of sweet cognac over his meat and onto my lips.

“The King of Cups.”

“Figures,” I laughed. “Go sit on your throne.”

As he turned, I snatched away his cup and downed the rest of that rich brandy. It seared my throat on the way down, but I loved it. Seconds away from satisfying my aching hunger for Arvo’s body, I was so ready to see how he fucked.

Settling back on the stone seat, Arvo opened his legs and began jerking himself. Nice and slow, a delightful performance.

I was wearing only a red ribbed-knit wool dress with a zipper down the front. Underneath was a black lace camisole that Velcroed between my legs. I hurriedly peeled off the dress and flung it aside.

I pulled forcefully at my undergarment, relishing the pressure against my pussy. Soon, the Velcro gave, and my hand plunged to my dewy lips. Arvo sighed appreciatively, and a virtual flood of precum trickled from his cock.

“You like this?” I asked. “You like watching me touch myself?”

“Open yourself for me, sexy. I want to see all of you.”

My knees were getting weak, and deep inside, I felt the warm stirring of an orgasm that I needed him to bring to fruition. Damn, though, if I didn’t love our game. I spun around and bent at the waist, giving him a perfect view of my treasures. I reached between my legs and opened the petals of my flower.

“Oh, shit, I gotta stop,” he grunted. Between my thighs, upside-down, I watched him release his twitching phallus. Our fun might have ended prematurely had he kept stroking a second longer. But Arvo was nothing if not disciplined.

“Easy, sport,” I laughed, wiggling my rump tauntingly.

Arvo sprang into action. Before I could turn to face him, he was on his feet and taking hold of me from behind. He sucked and nibbled covetously on my neck. His hands found their way to my swelling breasts and massaged them. A tiny squeal escaped my lips. Try as I might, I couldn’t stay cool and collected with his mouth and hands expertly manipulating my body.

A second later, his hands came down, and he lifted me off my feet with one motion.

“No more delays, Biba,” he commanded. “Time for the main event.”

I took his beautiful Greek-sculpture face in my hands and kissed him. His tongue probed my mouth, and I sucked on it with mad abandon. He didn’t break his stride for a moment. We went through a curtained passage into some sort of old bedchamber.

Arvo deposited me on a large oak pallet, loaded with cushions. I opened my eyes and saw I was in a room of polished stonework illuminated by candelabras. Unlike the main hall, this room’s walls weren’t covered in ornate axes and swords. In their place were sconces with marble and bronze statues of nude men and women—sometimes alone, sometimes coupled—all in sensual poses.

“This is more like it,” I cooed, looking at my bronze Adonis. He circled the makeshift bed, his tendons flexing and his erection bouncing with each step.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, though his tone didn’t sound like an honest question.

“No,” I answered honestly.

He stopped, looked over my stripped, shaking body, and said, “Too bad. Put out your arms.”

Why did I obey? Maybe I was too aroused to think straight. Maybe I felt protected by Zeph, like Arvo couldn’t afford to hurt me. Probably it was some combination. Whatever the reason, I stretched out my arms, and Arvo reached under the oak frame to pull out a leather strap from each side.