Healer’s Touch ~excerpt
Gods, it was hot up here. With a muttered curse, he opened the window, jerking at the ties of his shirt. He tugged it off over his head and leaned on the window frame to let the chill spring breeze caress his bare torso. Across the street, a pair of whores plied their trade, calling offers to passers by, flashing their breasts at those who showed interest. There was a time when Aru would have watched their games, but he had no stomach for it anymore. His erection was like a steel rod, but it had nothing to do with any woman outside.
Crossing to the bed, he reached for the buttons of his trousers, but his straining cock reacted with a bolt of pain and a wet surge of fluid.
“Paldir help me,” he muttered, flopping facedown on the mattress. He closed his eyes, but she was there waiting for him, her pale skin dotted with freckles, her auburn hair like a river of silk pouring over his white hands, her breasts peaked with the dusky pearls of her nipples. Gods, he had seen her naked in all her glory, had sat beside her, one hand on her belly as she writhed and screamed in the extremity of her arousal. He had seen it. He had caused it! It was but a tiny step further down the road to madness to imagine her breasts filling his hands, her nipples pressed between his lips as he suckled her, his cream-slicked fingers sliding high up inside her heat. He groaned at the thought of that pink tongue of hers lapping at his chest, licking a wet trail across his belly and down to his shaft. Her face, smiling up at him as she took him between her sweet lips and sucked him in, hard and deep, her hair spilling across his torso and between his legs.
Damn. With a start, he realized he was grinding his cock into the mattress. Sitting up, he rubbed his hands up and down his face, hard enough to chafe his skin. He’d never be able to sleep. Downstairs in the kitchen, he had a large cask of mead—the closest thing to hennath he could find in Anduni lands—but he couldn’t fetch himself any without risking waking Inella or her family. And to be honest, he doubted even a river of drink would soften his cock tonight.
Damn, damn, damn. Rising, he tiptoed to the door and peeked across the landing to Viera’s room. Her door stood ajar, a bar of candlelight slanting across the floorboards. She always left one burning next to the bed, in case a patient needed her in the night. Before Aru realized what he was doing, he was standing just outside her door, peeking in.
She slept, her hair like a dark cloud against the stark white of the sheets. She wore no shift—the dusky tip of one breast peeked at him over the edge of the blanket, and one long, curvy leg thrust out from the covers. Her bare toes enthralled him—so mundane, yet so delicate. He thought about taking them in his mouth, one by one. She stirred, shifting so that her other breast emerged from under the blanket, and he felt his shaft thicken in response, hardening until he thought his trouser buttons might end up permanently imprinted along its underside.
Heat flowered from the root of his member to spread its licking fingers all along his limbs. He pressed a hand to it, closing his eyes on a wave of need that left him dizzy. When he opened them, he was somehow standing right beside her bed, looking down on her face.
And she was looking back up at him, confusion etching a delightful crease between her brows. Her eyes flicked down to his crotch, widening as she took in the state of him. Her gaze might as well have been her fingers—his organ leapt in response and he let out a long, shaky breath.
So you can never touch a woman again? Gil’s earlier words resounded in his mind as he stared down at Viera in an agony of longing.
But what if he didn’t touch her? What if he didn’t touch her at all?
Gods.
His hand pressed against his shaft through the wool of his trousers, stroking upward the way he wanted her to do. He stared into her eyes, willing her to understand what he needed.
As if she read his mind, she drew the blanket slowly down, baring herself for him. Her nipples tightened as his gaze raked them, and she drew her fingertips across them, plucking them gently as her breath quickened and deepened. With shaking fingers, he slipped his buttons loose and his cock fell free. He moved to encircle it with his hand, but she shook her head.
“I want to see it.”
Trembling, he clenched his hands at his sides and let her look her fill, her gaze like hot liquid bathing the skin of his prick. She stroked him with her gaze until, unable to stop himself, he wrapped his hand tight around his thickness. The slit at the tip released a steady stream of fluid. He caught it on the pad of his thumb and spread it all along his shaft, slicking himself, wishing it was her own sweet honey.
“Let me see you,” he said, taken aback by the hoarseness of his voice.
Her lips curled upward, that sly little smile that never failed to make his belly flip over inside him. She slid her hands lovingly down her own torso and onto her inner thighs. As if they were a lover’s hands, they pulled her legs wide apart, until all her secrets were there for him to see. He stared at the undulating hollows where the tops of her thighs met her abdomen, at the tightly curled, glistening wet hair that lined her womanhood, at the engorged flesh of her labia, puffy and pink. At the pink bead of her clit, the center of her pleasure, standing stiff and straining to be touched. The entrance to her tunnel beckoned, its walls sealed against each other, seeping translucent white fluid even as he watched. That was the place he wanted to touch her, more than anything in the world. He wanted to bury himself there, to sink into her honeyed depths and lose himself, and never be found again.
His hand worked his cock, stroking up and down in a steadily increasing rhythm. The scent of her arousal, a rich, earthy musk, filled the small space they inhabited, mingling with the bittersweet redolence of his seed. Her hands stroked and skimmed back up the softness of her belly and over her ribs to cup her breasts. She palmed the heavy mounds, massaging from the outside inward, finishing at the rigid points of her nipples. With deft fingertips, she drew them into longer, firmer peaks, teasing them until he wondered how she didn’t go mad from it.
His eyes met hers.
“Put your fingers inside yourself,” he rasped, quivering as his cock released another surge of fluid.
She wet her lips, and he imagined her tongue dipping into the slit of his cock, exploring the tiny opening. Her fingers crept slowly, torturously toward her open cunt. As he watched, she slid the forefingers of both hands into her furrow and spread it wider, showing him her engorged inner lips. Slowly, as if moving through water, she pushed one finger into her hole, then drew it out again. A second finger joined the first for the next thrust, and her back arched up to meet it.
“Is that where you want them?” she asked, sliding them in and out while he watched, mesmerized.
He glanced at her face, not understanding. “Where else?”
She laughed, low and throaty. “Ah, Aru, for such an old man, you don’t know much at all.” And as he looked on, transfixed, a single finger of her other hand crept down toward her other hole, tiny and puckered, a place he hadn’t ever conceived could be put to such a use.