This week's excerpt is from The Naiad, by Justine Elyot. It's the final story in this run featuring tales from the wonderful wet-themed anthology Drenched.
"How do you feel, Naiad?" he asked.
He had put down his burden and tightened the belt of his silk robe around him. He hadn't offered one of those to me. I could do with one. The breeze was becoming more evident, especially around my nipples.
"I feel vulnerable," I said, pressing my thighs together and curling my toes.
"Vulnerable, yes, good. But are you comfortable?"
"I think so."
"Not too dry? Poor little naiad is used to the water, isn't she?"
"I suppose so." The residual drops from the jacuzzi had all slid off my skin now.
He knelt down by my side and passed his hands over my upper torso, rubbing and stroking over my breasts and collarbone and down over my stomach.
"Yes, I think so," he said, bending to kiss my navel. "Very dry. This must not be comfortable for you?"
"It's…"
But before I could continue, I let out a sharp cry.
He had reached into his picnic box and brought something out, which he placed square on my belly. It was a goddamn ice cube!
"Oh my god, that's freezing!"
I tried to turn so it would slide off, but he tutted and held it in place with the tip of a finger.
"No, no, no," he said. "This is good for you."
I wriggled and shivered and whimpered while he sent the cube on a little journey, leaving cold wet tracks across my skin. He let it glide between my breasts, then climb their slopes, circling – but never quite coming into contact with – my nipples, until the damn thing melted.
I was gasping with the cold, but he showed mercy by kissing all the places the cube had chilled, warming them back up with his fulsome lips and tongue.
I wondered if he could tell that I was ready for him now…more than ready. My clit felt ready to burst with need for his attention and I didn't need any ice cube to get me wet down there. Could he scent it? Something told me that he could.
But it didn't mean he was going to go easy on me.
Another bullet of ice materialised on my nipple, making me arch my spine and howl. He was amused by this, holding my poor throbbing bud between finger and thumb and keeping the ice cube where he wanted it. He kept it there, not moving, just until my nipple went beyond pain and into numbness, then he transferred it to the other. The expression of satisfaction on his face told me how he enjoyed watching me writhe. I didn't find it frightening. I found it intensely arousing. He was using me the way he wanted and I was willing to comply, even if it did mean purple nipples.
"I know it's cold," he whispered. "But you'll warm it up, won't you? Because you aren't cold. You're on fire."
He put his free hand between my thighs and rubbed the juicy swollen clit he found there. Yes, there was his proof. I couldn't deny what I was, what I craved.
The ice shrunk and disappeared, its existence only evidenced by the rivulets trickling down my breasts into the furrow between them.
Eberhardt put his face there and lapped up the crystal droplets, then flicked the tip of his tongue over my recovering nipples. The warmth buzzed them back into painful life. I wriggled my bottom into the buttercups as he opened his lips and sucked.
He alternated between nipples, dipping lazy fingers between my pussy lips and into my cunt at the same time. I was so close to coming from the double stimulation of being fingered and sucked simultaneously that I began to squirm. Instantly, he stopped what he was doing and smiled down at me. The sun had gone in. The leaves rustled against a stronger breath of wind.
"Oh," was all I could whisper.
"Not yet," he teased. "Naiads are very sensual little creatures, aren't they? I had no idea. I think more
ice…"
"Oh no," I moaned, but he was quick and deft and before I could clamp my legs together he was holding a cube to my clit. I kicked my legs against the acuteness of the sensation, but he rubbed slowly, up and down, then in slow circles, using his free hand to stroke and brush and pinch my nipples. I cried out and he popped a finger in my mouth, silencing me, making me suck on it. Now all I could do was hump my bottom up and down in a useless quest to free myself from my freezing invader.
"This is good," he crooned. "You are doing well." He pushed the cube inside me, where it melted almost straight away. I felt the cold fluid mingle with my own warm juices and trickle between my butt cheeks. I had never felt ruder, more ashamed or more turned on.
"Lovely," he said, shifting position and taking his finger from my mouth.
"Oh, please, not another," I pleaded, panting.
He climbed in between my knees and bent his head to my vulva, his eyes devilish as they peered up from my pubic mound.
"You don't like it?" he asked, his breath blasting my clit as he spoke.
"It's…torture," I said.
He clicked his tongue. "Awww." The expression of exaggerated sympathy ended with a little kiss on my clit. "Cold," he commented.
"Uh, yeah," I said, but sarcasm probably wasn't in order just now, when there was every chance of getting a dozen ice cubes tipped over my defenceless body.
He raised his head again, along with a finger which he wagged at me.
"You said please and asked me very nicely before, and that's the only reason I'm not reaching for another ice cube right now. But I can change my mind at any moment."
So I was to behave myself. I wanted to behave myself. This strict teacher vibe he was projecting really worked for me.
I nodded and tried to look doe-eyed.
He seemed satisfied with that, but he had more to say. "What you have to understand, Flosshilde, is that you belong to me now. I don't think any of your little water sprite friends are going to swim up to the bank to rescue you, do you?"
"I guess not."
Buy Drenched at Amazon US : Amazon UK
Justine Elyot says: "I love to write erotica and erotic romance. Elements you are likely to find in my work include: moustachioed melodrama villains, whips, wisecracks, knights in tarnished armour, damsels under duress, lovers, leather, aquiline features, references to popular songs. I massively overuse qualifiers like ‘really’, ‘quite’, ‘actually’ etc. and can’t resist the temptation to substitute long words for ‘said’. Reviewers either rave or cringe, with very little middle reactive ground (insert Marmite cliche here). Which will you do?"
Justine's website
Justine on Amazon US : Amazon UK
1 comment:
Mm, loved this one.
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