Page 105

I seize his rear, pressing him down. At last, Puck releases my leg and sinks closer. His elbows bracket atop the grass, his feverish length sliding out and radiating with heat at my center.

“I’m going to fuck you now, my luv,” he prompts “And when I start, don’t hold back. Let me hear that sweet fire.”

I roll my hips once, nestling him there. “It’s going to hurt,” I predict.

He quirks a fiendish eyebrow. “On the contrary. I’m a satyr.”

And with a forward swing of his hips, he thrusts fully into me. My back vaults off the ground, my cry tumbling into the dell. Oh, my Fables.

Puck groans, low and long. He roots himself in and moves in earnest, pivoting his hips, snapping his pelvis. The momentum is even, controlled, yet delirious.

I moan, weep, plead. I chant nonsense.

“Yes, Juniper,” Puck growls. “Teach me how to fuck you.”

And I do. Like this, our bodies pitch across the grass. Like this, he increases the rhythm. Like this, I shout into the void, in tune with the jutting piston of his body.

His breeches flare open around his waist, shameless and sexy. Glimpsing us like this, I see his abs clench, his body hefting into mine. I see a flash of his length entering and withdrawing.

Again, he lifts himself and watches my reactions. He follows the sounds, the gestures. Spurred on, he whips into me, sheathing to the hilt before retreating again.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

My hands scale the ladder of his spine and claw at his flesh. My touch pleadsyes, and it saysthere, and it wantsmore.

I snatch his face, urging him to hunch, our foreheads stamping together, his body plowing through mine. “Teach me how to finish you,” I demand.

Puck unleashes. He falls atop me and grapples for my bottom. Achieving a firm grip, he charges with swift, tireless thrusts.

I whine, practically sobbing in cadence with his shaft. My bust jostles, and the camisole straps fall down my shoulders. I’m so drenched, the prow of his length plunges effortlessly.

We grunt, holler into one another’s mouths. I don’t know what’s coming, but it’s coming rapidly, that flame hitting a plateau, hastening toward it. Like this, and this, and this.

“I never forgot you,” I whimper. “Every day since that night, I thought of you.”

“I thought about you, too,” he pants. “Always and endlessly.”

“I hadn’t wanted to.”

“But I did.”

My nipples pit into his chest, rubbing against him. Perspiration beads his torso and across my stomach. His pelvis hauls into mine, working me into the grass. I dig my heels into the ground and ride him back, lurching my core up around his length, until he can’t go any further, until I can’t reach any higher.

But I need to. Fables help me, I need to have more, take more.

My plaintive whimpers multiply, splintering from my throat.

“What’s the matter, luv?” Puck entreats. “Want my cock to go faster? Hmm?”

“Yes,” I whine.

He obliges, hoisting me firm against him, his palms spanning my rear. His waist slings forward with abandon. He pumps into me, shorter, shallower now. The tip of his hardness hits a spot that threatens to shatter me, to break me into a million radiant pieces. Somehow, he lodges himself deeper, deeper still. The crest of his body strikes that place again and again.

Puck hugs me to him, dashing forth, sweating. I clamp my mouth around his and catch our moans.

Our hips slam together. Over and over and over.

And like this, we find our mark. Peeling back, our gazes lock, and our mouths fall open. Puck stills, and I still, and then a great spasm releases. The climax detonates from where we’re joined and swarms my being.