I pad to the cliffside gazebo. Beyond the mesh, a giant owl funnels through a cloud, the raptor’s mighty size dominating the view. Everything’s moving, moving on, moving forward.
A great flapping sound hits the air, like sails unraveling. The outline of wings spread on either side of me, and a pair of toned arms link around my body. I lean into him, his pulse beating in the gulf of my shoulder blades.
I love this moment. I love this embrace.
I’d say I love him, but that would be too easy in this setting, basking in the aftermath of our moans. Any love worth sharing’s gotta have jagged edges, especially if it’s forbidden.
Cerulean plants a kiss on my shoulder. I sigh because that’s all it takes, just one touch of the lips. I squirm against the railing, antsy for more. He grunts in response, his mouth drifting to my neck.
His nakedness aligns with the linen hanging off me. “I like seeing you trussed up in my shirt,” he intones. “But what I like more is freeing you from it.”
Fingers descend to the neckline’s dip. He gives a controlled jerk, and the garment tears down the center, the material flaring wide to the panorama and blending with my hair. He turns me into a cloud—a temporary presence, impossible to catch and keep.
A stray, unattainable thing. That’s what he called me at the throne summit, at The Parliament of Owls.
I’m no more kept than he is. Cerulean’s boundless, lacking edges to grasp ahold of. But for now, we’ve got each other.
He lifts the shirt’s tail, exposing my lower half. I want this, so I broaden my stance, lust a dull throb in my temples, in my veins. He cups my tits, thumbing the peaks while he strums his tongue across the pulse point in my neck, and I release a stilted moan.
Cerulean’s mouth swerves into the trench beneath my jaw, the position tilting my head farther back. He sucks there, coaxing more noises from me. I reach behind and cling to his nape, then swivel my lips upward.
Our mouths connect. My tongue entwines with his, parting and licking.
His length stiffens along my rear, a wave of pleasure coursing up my spine. At the contact, our lips separate. We grimace, frustrated, agitated.
Cerulean secures his arm across my belly and his other hand on my hip. I veer backward, and we meet halfway. He pitches up—a long, firm shaft of heat gliding into me. Our bodies fit, Cerulean seating himself to the hilt, me encapsulating him.
We move so damn slowly, the overlapping groans filtering across the park. With precision, he thrusts into the wet clutch of my center. I hear myself whimper, and I hear him rasp, and we sound less experienced than we should.
We fucked passionately on that boulder. Now we make love.
We teach each other how it’s done. We learn every exploratory motion and curious taste.
My back arches. He grips me from behind, fixing me in place, making me feel each swipe of his hips, his cock jutting into me. His pelvis tweaks forward, and I snap my ass back, the languid pace excruciating.
I want this to be difficult, like we’ve gotta work for it—like that’ll excuse us.
My insides stretch around him, moisture coating his prick. Pressure builds, the impending release held together by strings.
Cerulean escalates the tempo. My thighs go slack, and my mouth hangs open, sending cry after cry into the atmosphere. His releases a guttural moan, his body lancing within mine until we’re one figure.
His wings curl in around us, the screens pulling taut. He slams in and out of me, and I catch every inch of it.
We go tense—and then burst into a million pieces, a single bellow renting the air.
We go limp—and sag into one another, a single sigh floating into the abyss.
Cerulean’s forehead lands on my shoulder, and my scalp thunks against his. Again, we find our way to each other, our tired lips meeting in a kiss. The setting flares back to life, a congregation of torch poles and wild safari calls.
My mouth chants, blurting out a word I fail to catch.
Cerulean goes still. After a moment, he releases a staggered breath.
His length slips from inside my body. He pulls me around, examining my face like he’s never seen a human before, scanning my jaw, then my eyelids, then my ears. His brows crinkle with something akin to turmoil.
What…did I say?
I peer at him, not liking his expression. “What’s the matter?”
