dripping heat.
Vetiver heard her own sobs above the din. Her eyes were shut
tight of their own volition, as her body rode through a passionate release like
none she’d ever achieved with the aid of her own hands. This was worlds
different from any sexual contact she’d conceived possible.
Her body was fluid around his hardness.
His skin was hot as fire against her, melting her, making
her soft and wet. Pliant like wax, molten like lava.
She felt her release rain down over his shaft like honey and
felt no shyness, no shame. With Boreas there was no room for such emotions.
Only room for more passion.
He moved faster. Harder. She came again. Her nipples
quivering like blueberries beneath frost, her pussy slurping ravenously at his
impaling girth. Every breath moved through her like a shudder. Her lungs were
on fire. Her heart swollen with joy.
He pressed his face between the pillow of her breasts,
kissing, licking, biting.
She came again.
Her body felt bruised. But he wrung more from her, pumping
his hips furiously as they climbed higher into the stratosphere. Vetiver felt
no chill in his arms. No lightheadedness in the thinner air, because he
breathed into her, feeding her oxygen when she needed it, let her moan and cry
when she had enough in her lungs to spare.
His hair was smooth in her fingers. His muscles taut and
firm. His body mighty and strong.
He rolled them, until she lay on her back on a pillar of air
and he towered above, pumping his hips, arching his back, dripping sweat over
her upturned face and throat.
Something urgent seemed to spur him into action. His face
went slack, his body shuddered. And just when she fell into another climax, he
jerked his cock free of her pussy and spent himself into the air. His cum
spurted in an arc that glittered as it fell. He put three fingers inside her,
letting her ride them as they both came and came and came.
Chapter Eight
Hours passed. It felt like moments only.
The clouds served as their bed. Boreas gathered a dense
canopy to protect them both from the sun, and though they still hovered beneath
the black clouds, no rain or hail touched them. They were a part of the sky but
also separate.
Over the edge of her celestial bower, Vetiver could see her
island, so far below them, floating like vibrant green jasper in a sea of churning
gray water. There were few cars on the mainland bridge. It wouldn’t be long
now…
Boreas shared the secrets of his life with her. She told him
of her life on the island, of the stigma of being an outcast, of the rich pride
she felt despite the hardship and work of protecting her home and its oblivious
inhabitants.
He told her that she could be like him. That it was
dangerous. But that it was possible. His seed was the key. It would either
poison her, kill her…or transform her into a new and powerful being. A Shikar.
Lying behind her, Boreas trailed his fingers over the curve
of her hip. “You would make a magnificent warrior. I only wonder what Caste you
would be reborn into.”
Vetiver shivered. “How many are there?”
His palm slid over her belly. “Four major. I am a Foil
Caste, master of blade.” He showed her, a snicking sound the only
warning as a glowing, white-blue blade shot out of his index finger. She
swallowed a gasp. The blade disappeared just as quickly, sliding back into his
digit with a whisper. “But there are a great many numbers of minor abilities.
For example, I am one of few who can manipulate wind.”
“Will you care what Caste I become?” she fretted. “Are there
prejudices between the different types?”
He chuckled. “There are no prejudices. And I care only that
your Caste does not override your natural magical abilities. Though from what
I’ve learned, the humans who have transformed thus far do not really change too
much in that regard.”
“Change me now,” she whispered. “Let’s fight the Daemons
together and run them from my island.”
Boreas’ hands stilled on her. “I
Vetiver heard her own sobs above the din. Her eyes were shut
tight of their own volition, as her body rode through a passionate release like
none she’d ever achieved with the aid of her own hands. This was worlds
different from any sexual contact she’d conceived possible.
Her body was fluid around his hardness.
His skin was hot as fire against her, melting her, making
her soft and wet. Pliant like wax, molten like lava.
She felt her release rain down over his shaft like honey and
felt no shyness, no shame. With Boreas there was no room for such emotions.
Only room for more passion.
He moved faster. Harder. She came again. Her nipples
quivering like blueberries beneath frost, her pussy slurping ravenously at his
impaling girth. Every breath moved through her like a shudder. Her lungs were
on fire. Her heart swollen with joy.
He pressed his face between the pillow of her breasts,
kissing, licking, biting.
She came again.
Her body felt bruised. But he wrung more from her, pumping
his hips furiously as they climbed higher into the stratosphere. Vetiver felt
no chill in his arms. No lightheadedness in the thinner air, because he
breathed into her, feeding her oxygen when she needed it, let her moan and cry
when she had enough in her lungs to spare.
His hair was smooth in her fingers. His muscles taut and
firm. His body mighty and strong.
He rolled them, until she lay on her back on a pillar of air
and he towered above, pumping his hips, arching his back, dripping sweat over
her upturned face and throat.
Something urgent seemed to spur him into action. His face
went slack, his body shuddered. And just when she fell into another climax, he
jerked his cock free of her pussy and spent himself into the air. His cum
spurted in an arc that glittered as it fell. He put three fingers inside her,
letting her ride them as they both came and came and came.
Chapter Eight
Hours passed. It felt like moments only.
The clouds served as their bed. Boreas gathered a dense
canopy to protect them both from the sun, and though they still hovered beneath
the black clouds, no rain or hail touched them. They were a part of the sky but
also separate.
Over the edge of her celestial bower, Vetiver could see her
island, so far below them, floating like vibrant green jasper in a sea of churning
gray water. There were few cars on the mainland bridge. It wouldn’t be long
now…
Boreas shared the secrets of his life with her. She told him
of her life on the island, of the stigma of being an outcast, of the rich pride
she felt despite the hardship and work of protecting her home and its oblivious
inhabitants.
He told her that she could be like him. That it was
dangerous. But that it was possible. His seed was the key. It would either
poison her, kill her…or transform her into a new and powerful being. A Shikar.
Lying behind her, Boreas trailed his fingers over the curve
of her hip. “You would make a magnificent warrior. I only wonder what Caste you
would be reborn into.”
Vetiver shivered. “How many are there?”
His palm slid over her belly. “Four major. I am a Foil
Caste, master of blade.” He showed her, a snicking sound the only
warning as a glowing, white-blue blade shot out of his index finger. She
swallowed a gasp. The blade disappeared just as quickly, sliding back into his
digit with a whisper. “But there are a great many numbers of minor abilities.
For example, I am one of few who can manipulate wind.”
“Will you care what Caste I become?” she fretted. “Are there
prejudices between the different types?”
He chuckled. “There are no prejudices. And I care only that
your Caste does not override your natural magical abilities. Though from what
I’ve learned, the humans who have transformed thus far do not really change too
much in that regard.”
“Change me now,” she whispered. “Let’s fight the Daemons
together and run them from my island.”
Boreas’ hands stilled on her. “I
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