Page 78
Story: Bloodmoon Ritual
“Don’t you see? There has never beenanyonebut you for me. It was you, sister, you or a lifetime of celibacy.”
“Did the Prophet never order you to climb for a woman?” I asked, feeling a little trickle of pride.
Automatically, I squashed it.
Pride was a sin.
But I paused, casting my mind back over all those years. Driving down any pride in my brother’s obsession was as automatic as a breath to me. But how many times had I driven it down? How many times did that flicker of pride still flare, still burning quick and bright thatIwas the one he was fixated one,Iwas the only one he had eyes for?
“Any order to climb for you would be from the Devil,” Rhyder said in a tight voice.
I felt violence gathering on my tongue.
Rhyder was dangerous when tested.
What if they tested him?
“You were made for me by the Allfather and I never want to be apart from you for even an hour ever again,” my brother said, and my worries about the Congregation vanished as he bent to my bared throat, his hand snaking up between my breasts to raise my chin for better access.
“Rhyder,” I said, my nipples tightening at the feel of his muscular arm on my soft skin, thenoand theyesmixing on my tongue until I wasn’t sure what I wanted.
But he only flipped me on my back and rolled over with a lithe motion until he was between my thighs.
“Yes, sister. Your body is mine. I know the secret to your sweet little sounds now.”
And he suddenly bent his head until his tongue licked up my wet slit, swirling around my clit.
I was embarrassingly, shamefully wet for him as he circled my clit, stroking my pussy lips with the rough tips of his fingers, pulling them apart to devour my swelling clit.
“Oh Allfather, you taste so good,” he groaned, his beard rubbing my sensitive skin, my thighs already trembling with how fast he brought me to the brink.
“Rhyder. . . slow down,” I gasped inarticulately, my hand in his thick unbound hair.
The same color as mine,I thought as the moonlight shone in through the window. A rich, deep gold.
“No,” he said, his hands tightening on me, bringing my hips up so he could devour me fully trapped.
“I want your sweet release now. And then I want another one.”
I felt the morality slip away from me as my hand pulled at his hair, urging him wordlessly to continue.
“Did the Prophet never order you to climb for a woman?” I asked, feeling a little trickle of pride.
Automatically, I squashed it.
Pride was a sin.
But I paused, casting my mind back over all those years. Driving down any pride in my brother’s obsession was as automatic as a breath to me. But how many times had I driven it down? How many times did that flicker of pride still flare, still burning quick and bright thatIwas the one he was fixated one,Iwas the only one he had eyes for?
“Any order to climb for you would be from the Devil,” Rhyder said in a tight voice.
I felt violence gathering on my tongue.
Rhyder was dangerous when tested.
What if they tested him?
“You were made for me by the Allfather and I never want to be apart from you for even an hour ever again,” my brother said, and my worries about the Congregation vanished as he bent to my bared throat, his hand snaking up between my breasts to raise my chin for better access.
“Rhyder,” I said, my nipples tightening at the feel of his muscular arm on my soft skin, thenoand theyesmixing on my tongue until I wasn’t sure what I wanted.
But he only flipped me on my back and rolled over with a lithe motion until he was between my thighs.
“Yes, sister. Your body is mine. I know the secret to your sweet little sounds now.”
And he suddenly bent his head until his tongue licked up my wet slit, swirling around my clit.
I was embarrassingly, shamefully wet for him as he circled my clit, stroking my pussy lips with the rough tips of his fingers, pulling them apart to devour my swelling clit.
“Oh Allfather, you taste so good,” he groaned, his beard rubbing my sensitive skin, my thighs already trembling with how fast he brought me to the brink.
“Rhyder. . . slow down,” I gasped inarticulately, my hand in his thick unbound hair.
The same color as mine,I thought as the moonlight shone in through the window. A rich, deep gold.
“No,” he said, his hands tightening on me, bringing my hips up so he could devour me fully trapped.
“I want your sweet release now. And then I want another one.”
I felt the morality slip away from me as my hand pulled at his hair, urging him wordlessly to continue.
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