All Thorns Eve_Gems Book 1

by Diana Rose Wilson

  “It is the sweetest pain.”

  “And this is just what I’m doing to your fingers,” she teased and smiled when he groaned. “Poor, sweet, sensitive Jackal.”

  He laughed, squeezing her with the arm around her. Slowly he removed his hand away from her face. “I will strive to be strong enough for your torments.” He adjusted, and she realized he was trying to prevent her from rubbing herself against his cock.

  “You don’t think I’m afraid or hurt by your…size…do you?”

  He lifted one shoulder. It was enough to indicate that he was. “Yes. I mean, you are so small.”

  “I am not fragile,” she whispered back, but even as she squirmed to grind her ass back against him, he adjusted to prevent it.

  “Songbird! It is too much. Touching you. I’m right on the edge…”

  “I can help you with that,” she whispered. “It doesn’t have to…”

  “Not yet,” he whispered back to her. “Painting first.”

  She shivered and chewed at her lower lip, unsure if she could handle it. The voices of her friends had slipped into the background, soft whispers, low moans and sometimes a surprised laugh. In the dark behind the blindfold, she was left to imagine what they were doing. Perhaps they were joining Bear and Copperhead in the naked painting.

  “Here are your paints, lady.” Jackal’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  He took her hand and led them to the long wooden tray with the various jars. They were smooth and cool to the touch. When she explored them, she discovered the liquid inside.

  “Just a moment.” He chuckled and lifting her from his lap. Carefully he set her down and released her. She heard him shuffle back a step.

  The paint left her fingers slick and when she drew her hand back, she smelled strawberry. She tipped her head up and frowned. “Where are you going?”

  He took her hand and pressed a soft cloth into her palm. “Just going to get ready for you to paint.”

  “I can’t tell what colors they are.” She fanned out her hand when he released her, flapping the cloth blindly.

  “They are edible. Taste them.”

  Frowning she reached hesitantly forward and found the row of containers again. As she explored she discovered ten jars arranged before her. She dipped her finger into the farthest one on her left and sniffed it before licking it from her finger. He made a soft growl, apparently watching her.

  She tipped her face towards the sound. “Strawberry!” It tasted like pure, ripe strawberries. Someone had gone to a lot of effort to get the taste just right.

  She sampled the other jars and arranged them to her liking. Strawberry, cherry, mango, lemon, lime, blueberry, blackberry, chocolate, licorice, and vanilla.

  While she got her palate ready she heard him undressing. The jacket made a louder flap with the sharpness of its removal. There was the faint click of buttons before the shirt slid away from his skin with a softer whisper of cloth.

  “Wow,” Fox whispered beside her.

  A fierce spike of jealousy pierced Nina. Her friends got to view this man before she ever got to? She wanted to see! Heat burned her cheeks.

  “Ah, now you’re just asking for a blindfold, Foxy.” Fern’s voice held a quiet, dangerous edge.

  “Maybe. Or, maybe you have to distract me mo—oohh, God!” Fox’s voice gasped aloud.

  Behind her mask, Nina could only imagine what had happened to draw that note of pleasure from her friend’s throat.

  “And a gag…. Ssshhhh, pretty,” crooned Fern, in low, wicked amusement.

  Fox uttered the sweetest mewl of pleasure, peaking into a gasping sob. Whatever her lover was doing to her was more than enough to distract her from watching the undressing of Jackal. Nina felt the sharp shuddering of the seat beside her and for a moment, feared her friend was going to sing out her safe word.

  “There, there! I’ve got you! Fern has you, pretty,” he purred at last in satisfaction.

  “Fuck! Oh. Fuck!” Foxy sounded caught between laughter and tears.

  “Already? But you haven’t even finished your pretty painting,” Fern teased.

  “You are a bad man!” Foxy whimpered.

  “I just know what you need.”

  Nina would have listened into their conversation more, lost in the swirling scent of sex and the intoxicating sounds of pleasure around them. Her aching sex reminded her how Jackal’s strong, thick fingers had stretched her each time she rubbed her thighs together. She was wet and swollen under her sheer silk dress. Her whole body too hot and over sensitive. The sensual energy around them twisted her to the breaking point. She knew it wouldn’t take much more than a soft touch to drive her over the edge and into orgasm.

  She jerked when Jackal’s big hand touched her elbow. “You all right?” he asked.

  “I…yes. I think so.”

  He stroked up her arm and teased over the swell of her breasts. For a moment she thought he was going to undress her but instead he paused and withdrew his touch. Two heartbeats later his fingers returned, slick and cool against her collarbones. The lemony scent was tart enough to make her mouth water. He used her skin as a canvas for the fragrant paints. Mango and cherry were next and he slowly traced swirls along the length of her neck and then back down to her cleavage, pausing only to get more paint to apply to her skin.

  “It’s not fair that I can’t see,” she whispered.

  “Well, I will have to show you later in the mirror. Hm?”

  She longed to see not only the artwork but his expression while he painted. Instead she was blind to the beauty around her. It made the sweet sounds of pleasure nearby more intense. Low, urgent whispering and muffled moaning swirled around them, but they were in the eye of the storm.

  “Would you like to touch me?” he asked at last, sliding a cherry flavored finger along her lips.

  “Yes!” she gasped, throat thick and strained around the word. It was more than a want. Touching him had become a raw, desperate need.

  He slid his hands down to hers and pulled them towards him and coaxed her touches to the center of his chest. He was hot under her palm, his skin hard under the tickle of curly hair. When she began to explore him, he released her, and his body pressed into her fingers.

  Here and there she felt welted spots and followed one across his chest in a diagonal line down from his peck almost to his naval. Was this why he didn’t want her to see him? He thought she wouldn’t like the way he looked?

  She leaned in and kissed her way down the scar. His body braced as he sucked in a shuddering breath. He made a soft sound of protest, but she crooned a soft reassurance. Darting out her tongue, she lapped along the mark. It knifed through the crisp hair, hotter than the rest of his skin somehow. He tasted sweet, like spiced peaches. She didn’t want to mar his natural flavor with the sweet and tart paints. Combing her fingers through the hair along his chest she growled out her pleasure.

  All the men she’d slept with had been perfectly shaved and waxed, unblemished and…boring. She’d never been with someone who was so…wild. Yes, those men had been lovely, but fake. There wasn’t anything fake about this man or the way he responded to her.

  With a choked growl of shock, he grabbed roughly at her shoulders when she nuzzled down his hard stomach. “No. Wait.” He sucked in a sharp breath. She could almost taste his fear when she licked around his belly button.

  “Ssshhh! It’s ok,” she whispered, sliding her hands down his sides to his hips. For a moment she thought he was completely naked.

  A claw of ridiculous jealousy raked her. Everyone could see him except for her! Then she touched the thin cord of fabric at his hips and the equally irrational relief swept over her. He wasn’t baring it all to the whole garden.

  She wasn’t able to explore more than to feel the soft fabric of the front flap before he caught her seeking hands and stopped her.

  “Not yet,” he growled and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing each knuckle. “Please!”

  She fro
wned up at him and he nibbled at her thumb. His teeth were sharp, the pressure hard enough to hurt and she quivered in response.

  “You aren’t disappointed? I mean….” He slid her hands to his chest again and smoothed them flat over the broad expanse of him. His heart slammed furiously under her fingers.

  “No! I like this.” She tried to lean in and kiss the spot, but his hand moved, sinking into her hair. He held her by the scalp, preventing her from reaching her goal.

  “Not. Yet.” He shivered, growling each word.

  It was as though he thought if she pushed him over the edge, it would be over. She pulled against his hold as he growled at her. It was such a delicious torment, the pain crawling along her scalp mingled with her hunger and need for him.

  On impulse she grabbed a jar and flung its contents at him, splashing it blindly over him. The scent of blueberries filled the space between then as he yelped in shock.

  Their friends were too busy to notice or too far away to be troubled by the splatters. His fingers tightened in her hair. It felt so delightful her toes curled. The empty jar fell at her feet as she fumbled for another and sloshed it at him before he could stop her. She aimed higher and smelled blackberry, but she couldn’t be sure if it hit her target. His was so broad, surely it hit. The tart, sweet scent of berries made her mouth water.

  “This isn’t painting,” he snarled quietly into her ear. His hot breath whispered across her skin making her want to claw her way up his body and claim him. She needed to bite and lick him until his resolve splintered into tiny pieces, but he held her leashed by her hair.

  “I’m taking creative liberties. Hard to see what I’m doing with my blindfold on.”

  She was pent up and sexually frustrated, but loved how he controlled her consent. She loved that he was this rock of unyielding control.

  “You are making a mess,” he growled back, but there was laughter under the words.

  She smeared her hands through the paint over his chest and up to his shoulders as she stood and arched towards him. Leaning in, she pressed herself into the slick wall of his body.

  His growl of pleasure vibrated through her, making her nipples tight buds. The flavored paint soaked through the silk. She slipped her arms around his shoulders and started when her fingers brushed against—feathers. She grabbed onto handfuls.

  Feathers?

  When she tugged at them he yelped in surprise and released her with obvious pain. They were attached to him! Without his support, she fell back, banging her elbow on the tray with the paints. Mango, lime, vanilla, and chocolate went flying, added to the other scents. Chocolate splashed up her face, trickling down her mouth with vanilla down the other cheek. She felt the wetness of the other paints soaking into her as she clutched her aching elbow and realized that she’d managed to pluck one of the feathers from him and gripped it in her fist, not quite sure just what happened.

  “Whoa! What happened?”

  “What the hell?”

  “I’m so sorry. Songbird! Fuck! I’m sorry!” Jackal’s strong arms looped around her again and he lifted her, cuddling her into his wet chest. He roared with laughter, a raucous, joyful sound. Through his mirth he choked out. “Oh, my gods!”

  She must have looked horrible, smeared with a rainbow of colors, but he seemed so caught up in his delight, he didn’t stop laughing. He pressed his cheek to hers and nuzzled in, chuckling softly. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  “My elbow!” She thrust the feather at him and he covered her hand and nuzzled at it too, closing her fingers around the plume without explaining anything.

  “Let me see….”

  “Dude, did she pluck you?”

  “Birdie! Oh, my God. How mean.” Foxy was laughing too as though they were all in on this great joke.

  She wanted to demand to know what was going on, but Jackal’s mouth closed over hers in a hard, hungry kiss. His lips full and soft, feverishly hot against hers. She didn’t expect the man to be so wonderfully plush when his body was as hard as the steel of his mask. His breath burned across her cheek as he tipped his head and parted his lips against hers. The sweet taste of him was both vanilla from the paint and the natural peach that she’d been craving since the night before. She dropped the feather and cupped his face with both hands, panting his skin with chocolate, vanilla and berries as her tongue darted forward to tease him.

  Under her fingertips his skin was smooth with no beard or mustache. If there were scars, she didn’t detect them under her seeking fingers. His nose nuzzled over hers as they deepened the kiss. He was almost shy until she thrust her tongue forward and claimed his lips for hers. She wanted every part of him.

  He uttered a whimper of pleasure, his hesitation melting as his tongue curled with hers, wrestling back. Boldly he plunged forward to claim her in turn, a vibration of growls rumbling through her. He lowered her onto the couch and followed her down, pinning her as he continued to kiss her, never breaking the contact of their lips.

  She parted her thighs and wrapped one leg around his hips, pressing her heel into his bare ass. She felt the strange, tickle of feathers over her thigh. Moaning, she slid her arms around him again, and this time she didn’t grab at the feathers but let them slide through her fingers. He moaned raggedly at the sensation and raked his big hand down her side to her hip, gripping her hard as though he didn’t want her to escape him.

  When she whimpered, he eased his hold and slipped his hand between her thighs, petting at her naked flesh. His smile curved against her mouth at her missing panties. The memory of how he’s ripped them off and kept them made her hips rise and his thumb brushed and spiraled around her clit in time with his tongue circled with hers.

  She was going to die!

  Moaning, she bit against his lower lip and he snarled out his pleasure in response, pushing his finger into her, rough and steady, filling her without the earlier teasing. His mouth kissed along her cheek, playfully licking at the chocolate side first until he whispered into her ear, “Come for me.”

  “Ugh!” She arched into his fingers, grinding them deeper into the sore, sweet spot he’d made earlier and shuddered.

  “There? Right there?” He grasped her ear lobe in his teeth and bit down as his fingers plunged into her deep and hard. “Come. Sing for me, sweetheart. Sing!”

  His demand shattered her. She spiraled over the edge into her orgasm and she cried out in pleasure against his neck. Shuddering and trembling as she came, she pressed her teeth into his skin and bit him. She sucked her marks against the sweet, fragrant heat of him. Over and over she seemed to come to pieces as he crooned and purred.

  She didn’t care that the others were watching and listening. She only knew that this man, this stranger was just what she wanted.

  “That’s my girl. That’s my sweet, good girl,” he growled softly and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, letting her use him as a pillow. She lay her head into his slick, berry scented chest and sniffled softly with the tangle of emotions.

  It took a while to come down from that peek. As she did, she realized that the sounds around them were very sexual. There were whimpers and moaning grunts and the not so subtle tempo of wet flesh slapping. The scent of sex mingled with her lover’s skin and the fragrant paint. She nuzzled her way up to his neck and tucked herself against his throat. “I want you,” she whispered, kissing along his jaw.

  “I want you too, pretty bird.” He kissed her forehead and smoothed his hands down her back to her ass, squeezing her. “But…”

  “But?” she whispered the question into his throat, kissing the rough skin there from ear to ear.

  “I don’t want this to end,” he answered in a rasp. She had the sense that he was trying to enfold her completely in his arms.

  “End? It doesn’t have to end.”

  “But after I …come….I….”

  “Do you turn into a pumpkin?” she asked, wishing that she could just take off the blindfold and see him and assure him with he
r eyes that it never had to end. Did it?

  “Well…no. I mean, I don’t know. It’s the little death. Right?”

  He didn’t know? Who the fuck gave him his sexual education?

  “It’s not really death,” she assured him, frowning as she tried to imagine what on earth this man had been told. “Haven’t you ever…” She hoped he could tell what the motion was with her hand she jerked back and forth through the air.

  “Huh?” His clear puzzlement meant she wasn’t being clear enough or he did not jerk off. How could he live his whole life and never masturbate?

  “Find your release?”

  “Um, no. I haven’t ever…” His voice lowered as he kissed her ear, “I’m sorry…I just want to make it really good because after I come…”

  She cut him off. “I get you hard all over again and do it again….and again…and….”

  He whimpered softly and this time, his hips lifted under her, shy and uncertain. He moaned thickly when she wrapped her legs around him and pressed back against him with only that thin fabric between them. He was enormous and hard under her, the length of him an erotic curved arch against her thigh.

  “Surely you don’t think your friends there are agonizing over any ‘one-time-only’ death. Right?” The sounds around them indicated they were only suffering in the sweetest way possible. She felt his attention shift away from her to the others around them and then his face nuzzled against her hair.

  “I…um….”

  She could have sworn she felt him blush as he pressed up against her.

  “They were not nice to make you think it is a one-time use,” she said quietly and leaned up so she could kiss her way to his lips, nibbling between her words. “I will bring you back to life and kill you again…and again….and…”

  He growled softly into her lips, his hips rose under her.

  This time when she reached for him, he did not stop her. His broken sound of pleasure whispered into her mouth, a wordless plea for her to touch him. He trembled all over as though he both feared and longed for her to end his torment. His cock felt extraordinary. It was so thick and hard with a delicious curve unlike anything she’d explored before.