by Riley Storm
She felt him grow harder in her hand, if that was even possible.
“Do you like what you see?” she asked nervously.
“No,” he rumbled.
“What?” she squeaked, cool air washing over her as she started to panic at his answer.
“Like does not begin to describe what I feel,” he growled, his voice like thunder on the horizon, deep and rolling. “Feel how hard I am in your hand. Look at it, watch my eyes. You are a tribute to all that is good. There is so much I want to do to that lush body of yours right now, I barely know where to begin,” he said with a chuckle.
“How about you start by touching me?” she suggested, still not sure what to believe.
Altair stepped closer, pressing his body to hers, running his hands up her sides, across her back. He cupped her breasts and dragged his fingers across her upper chest and along her collarbone. Christine shivered and her knees wobbled.
His lips met hers once more, banishing her doubts in a wave of fire that seared along her skin, hardening her nipples to their utmost and rolling over her body down between her legs. She was ready, and he’d barely begun to tease her.
“Altair,” she moaned as he finally, finally, dipped a hand down past her waist, easily finding her wetness. “Oh damn.”
She was practically dripping already. When he found her clit, she sagged. His free arm caught her, holding her up as if she were nothing.
“I need to sit,” she said.
“I’ll hold you,” he rumbled, his finger tracing circles around her clit, sending shivers of lust and arousal deep into her core.
“But…”
She was silenced by his lips, though her cries often broke through, gasps of air when he changed direction or made purposeful, complete contact with her. Whether it was the moment, his actions, or a combination, she didn’t know, nor did she care. It took no time at all before she shuddered hard as Altair made her climax, standing naked in the middle of the practice arena.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped as pleasure burst forth. Her legs failed, but his arm held her tight to him, where she could press her face against his chest, nails clawing at his skin, leaving long red marks as she jerked and writhed uncontrollably, completely overcome with pleasure.
“Now you can move down here,” he said gently, lowering her to the floor, before promptly kissing her breasts and then moving between her legs.
“I’m not rea—ohmygod,” she hissed as his tongue slid across her opening, warm, soft and entirely wonderful.
“What was that?” he teased, before resuming his movements. They were light, tender, and all the pressures he could take.
Yet somehow, he had her nearing another orgasm already. “How,” she moaned, thrusting her hips against his mouth as the tightness mounted swiftly.
Altair was playing her like she was nothing, and her second orgasm came on swifter than the first, wrenched free in less than a minute. Her body arched and spasmed as she lost control, only his strong grip around her legs and waist keeping her pinned in place, while his tongue flicked across her, slowing as she did, riding her orgasm back down to nothing, where she promptly splayed flat on the cool ground, her body now completely open to him.
She needed it. Needed him.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered, stroking his cheek, watching his face. This would be the most important step. He needed to take her. To give in completely to whatever was between them. That was how he would prove he wasn’t afraid of her, of being with her.
Altair didn’t hesitate. His eyes were locked on to her, but she felt his cock press against her, sliding up and down her opening, slowly pushing his way inside. He watched her the entire time. There was a hint of concern in his eyes, but this time she was confident it was for her. He didn’t want to hurt her.
God, that’s adorable. This man…
“More,” she whimpered as he finally, finally entered her. The wait was killing her. She needed him, needed to feel him fill her, that wonderful feeling of fullness. It awaited her and—Oh my Godddd….
Her brain promptly overloaded as he entered her in one smooth push. She’d never been with someone so large, nor so overwhelmingly good-looking before, and the moment, the pressure and the visual all combined to provide more stimulus than she could handle.
By the time she came back down to reality, the after-effects of yet another orgasm washing over her, Altair was pushing in and out of her with a rhythm.
“Come here,” she whispered, pulling his face down to her level so she could kiss him.
There was something about the simple act in that moment of intimacy that really spoke to her. She felt him in a totally different manner than their carnal act.
They had broken through a barrier here, and she was proud of him for it. For fighting. Because that’s what he had done. He had fought his demons, his inner turmoil and guilt, grief and all manner of other emotion, and he’d fought it for her.
She felt special for it.
They continued like that, little touches and sighs, along with the other usual noises of sex, including awkward sounds, muscle cramps and all the laughable moments, for longer than she could remember. Time simply flowed away, and she stopped paying attention to it.
She was too caught up in him.
“Christine,” he groaned in her ear. There was something different about it, in the timbre, the way her name rolled of his lips.
It only took a moment for her to register what it was. Without speaking, she pushed him back up onto his knees. There was a moment of whimpering sadness as he slid free of her, but she knew that wouldn’t last.
Climbing from her back, she got on all fours, turning her rear to him. Altair immediately picked up on what she was going for and positioned himself behind her. Hands grabbed her hips and pulled her back, practically impaling her on him. He was so hard now, she could feel him pulsing.
Her arms collapsed almost immediately, but Altair didn’t seem to care as her upper body rested on the floor. In fact, she swore she heard a delighted growl as he thrust into her again, and again, and again. He gripped tighter, pulling her back onto him until her entire ass shook every time he came home.
The roughness and the ever-increasing speed were at total odds from earlier, and she knew immediately she wasn’t going to last long. Her already drained body rose once more. She pushed a hand between her legs, trying to satisfy the pulsing need in her clit even as Altair took her the way he needed.
He shouted her name just as she clamped down around him, losing her breath as her body refused to work for several long seconds, paralyzed by pleasure.
Then she sagged to the floor, gasping for air as Altair spilled himself across her lower back and rear. She shivered at the warmth, the contrast to the coolness of the arena heightening the moment.
“Wow,” Altair grunted from behind her as he went practically limp. “That was…”
“Uh huh.” It was all she could manage, lying cold and naked on the floor.
Well, not entirely cold.
“You…that’s what you planned to happen, right?” he asked.
Her chest bounced with silent laughter, still too drained to make any noise. “Planned is a bit of a stretch,” she admitted. “I just kind of went with it. I hadn’t thought about it, but it just seemed…right.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly, losing himself deep in thought. “Yeah I guess it did.”
She let him have his moment, to think about it, to contemplate everything.
Across the arena from them one of the doors opened.
“Oh shit!” she yelped, reaching for her clothes and standing up, only to feel the remains of their session drip down her back and legs. “Oh, ew, no, what the heck!”
“Here!” Altair rumbled, thrusting her robes at her. Put this on. Asap.”
“Hey!” the newcomer shouted. “What are you two doing in here?”
“We have to go!” she hissed as the other witch, likely a Master, started across the huge aren
a for them.
“Yeah, I know.” Altair had his pants on now, but nothing else. “Hold on tight. Like in the library.”
“What? Oh no,” she yelped, lunging at him, clinging to his half-naked torso as he swept her up in a bubble for a second time.
They raced out of the arena, past the stunned witch and out into the halls of Winterspell.
“I really need to stop getting caught in public places with you,” she laughed as they sailed out into the night sky, the cold updraft a little unpleasant through her robes to the bare skin beneath. Not that she cared. Not right then.
“Well how about we go somewhere more private?” he suggested.
“That would be nice,” she agreed, resting her head on his chest and going where the winds took her and Altair.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Altair
No. No, don’t do it! Run for it!
It was happening again. He knew it. Fighting was no use, there was no point to it. It would happen like it did every time. The children would run. He would fight.
And in the end, they would all die.
He thrashed and lashed out, hitting the Infected dragons with every ounce of power he had. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time, he could save someone. Just one of them.
Like before, the dragon erupted from the ground and—
Altair sat up straight, eyes bursting open wide. He was panting, chest heaving as a cold sweat poured down his face. He was confined, trapped. Throwing the sheets aside, he leapt from bed, cool air sending tingles along his body as it brushed across the sweat that was everywhere.
The dream. He’d been having the dream again. Nightmare, more like it. Every time he had it lately, he ended up like this, in the halls of Winterspell, on his back, with either Rane, or Damien, or sometimes both, standing over him.
And my face always hurts like hell like this…
Eventually, his thoughts trickled through his brain, setting off a flashing red light of sorts, trying to get his attention. It took another half a minute for him to realize what his mind was trying to tell him.
He wasn’t in the hallways. He was in his room, had in fact been in his own bed when he’d woken up. No sleepwalking this time.
On top of that, he wasn’t on his back. His face didn’t hurt. Nobody had punched him. The concerned faces of Rane and Damien were not there.
He was alone.
“Hey…” a soft voice said from behind him.
Altair spun, regarding the curvy figure staring up at him, just now tugging the sheets back over her naked form.
“Uh, hi,” he said, blinking rapidly, trying to process what he was seeing as his brain struggled to return to full wakefulness. “What are you doing here?”
She frowned at him, his keen eyesight easily picking up on the movement in the dark. “Are you still half asleep, or do you really not remember?”
“Umm.” Altair was still reeling from the emotions and adrenaline surging through his system from his dream. Processing the world around him was difficult. Waking up to a punch in the face certainly cleared his brain quickly. This was much more difficult.
“We came here together,” the woman said. “After the arena. You took me in your arms, and we flew through the hallways, and then you brought me here, where we could be alone. We then were…together, again, before falling asleep. Do you not remember it all?”
Awareness was returning to him now. “I’m sorry, Christine. I didn’t mean to act like I didn’t know you. I was just…” he trailed off.
“Caught up in a nightmare?” she asked softly, sitting up, clutching the sheets to her chest. “Come, sit down.”
Her voice was quiet and gentle, full of tender caring. Yet there was an unmistakable backbone of iron throughout, a command he couldn’t ignore. Before he realized he was doing it, Altair was seated back on the edge of the bed.
“How did you know?” he asked quietly, secretly terrified of the answer.
“You were moaning and moving about in the bed,” she said quietly, fingers stroking his back, tracing lines across his skin.
“That feels nice,” he mumbled.
“Good. Now lie down,” she ordered, taking his shoulder and gently pulling him back into the bed.
“You’re much calmer now,” she said. “I was worried about you. You sounded like you were in lots of distress.”
Altair looked away. She didn’t know the half of it. “How…how did you wake me?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t taken it too far.
“I started rubbing your chest,” she said gently. “like this.”
He sagged back into the mattress at her touch, savoring the sweet light caresses. Parts of him he hadn’t known were tense unclenched and relaxed.
“That’s good,” she said, sliding just a little closer. “Just let me rub you. It’s okay now, Altair. It’s okay.”
His upper body trembled as he drew in a deep breath, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. She was threatening to put him back to sleep. Looking after him.
“You don’t have to talk to me,” she said, as if interpreting his thoughts. “I won’t make you or force you. But if you want to talk, then I’m right here for you, Altair. I’m ready to listen whenever you are ready to talk. When you need to talk, even if you aren’t ready for it. I’ll be here.”
“I…” he sighed, then reached up to take her hand, holding it within his own, giving it a squeeze.
How was he supposed to tell her the truth? To reveal his failures to a woman like this? She was too good for him. He didn’t deserve someone like her, that much he was certain of.
“Everyone has their demons,” she whispered. “It would be arrogant of you to think that you’re the only one who has ever suffered. Reach out, talk to me. Share with me. Lean on me, I can help you. I want to help you.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead, lingering there for several moments.
“If I tell you,” he said, caught up in the closeness of the moment. “You will think less of me. I…I don’t want that.”
“Altair,” she admonished in a whisper. “That’s not fair. You can’t tell me how I’m going to feel about something I don’t yet know.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling bad.
“Besides, why would you think that about me? Why would you assume that’s what I would do?” She kissed his forehead again.
He couldn’t pick up the color of her eyes in the dark, but he could see them focused on him, could see the creases around her eyes as she looked upon him with concern.
“Because,” he said, forging ahead, ignoring his own comfort. She deserved that from him, at least. “My nightmare, it’s…it’s about my worst failure. A terrible failure.”
“Oh, Altair.” She pulled her hand from his and stroked his face with it, pulling his head to face her. “We all have failures. Everyone. I will never judge you by yours. Only by how you have come out the other side. How you have made up for it, bettered yourself and learned.”
He snorted, a self-deprecating sound. “Right. Well, I haven’t exactly done much of that since. I haven’t done any of that since,” he admitted, speaking the truth out loud for the first time.
“Why not?” Christine challenged, still holding onto his face.
Altair knew he could break away from her touch at any time, that she wasn’t trying to pin him down or hold him in place, but that she just wanted to look upon him, to be close with him. He appreciated that and her desire to help him. It meant a lot, but…but he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. For her.
“Because,” he explained. “I didn’t really have any reason to.”
Even as he spoke, he wondered if that was the truth. It had been for the longest time, but was it still? Was he still so uncaring?
“Is that all?” she asked, prying ever so gently for the first time. “It sounded like you were going to say more.”
He hesitated. The words were right there on his lips. All he had to do was utter them, putting sound to
the syllables. To tell her that maybe now he did have a reason to want to better himself. To live again. Maybe.
Taking a deep breath, he started to speak.
An image appeared in front of them. A hooded face that, despite not revealing any features of the secretive owner, was entirely familiar to both of them.
“All response team members, report to my office immediately.”
Altair froze, and the image repeated itself a second time, then vanished. He turned to Christine, who was sitting up in bed now.
They both knew what a summons this late at night meant. There could be no other reason, nothing to warrant yanking them all out of bed.
“Time to go,” he said, all business once again as they began to get dressed hurriedly.
“I need to go to my room first,” Christine said, sounding irritated.
“What? Why?” he wanted to know.
She flicked on the lights. Altair blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes. Christine was standing there, holding her robe in front of her half-naked figure.
“I don’t think I can show up with a robe looking like this,” she muttered, shaking her head.
Altair eyed the large dried white stain on the exterior. “Oops.”
“Men,” she sighed dramatically. “I’ll meet you there.”
By this point, Altair was dressed. He shrugged, not quite ready to split from her just yet. “I’ll come with you,” he volunteered. “I can fly you to your level.”
Christine shrugged. “Sure, it’s faster.”
He paused while she pulled on her other clothing. Then, folded up robe and staff in one hand, she stepped up close, throwing the other hand around his neck.
Altair jumped as she pulled him down and planted a kiss on his lips.
“What was that for?” he asked curiously as wind swirled around them and guided them toward the window.
“Because I wanted to,” she said defiantly just before they sped free into the night, heading first for her room, and then to see Circe.
It seemed that Lord Berith had come to Winterspell after all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Christine
She hopped free of his arms just outside her door, pushing it open and hurrying inside.
