Page 3 of Moist!

chapter three

HAYDEN

I can’t think with Lachlan’s hands on me. I can barely fucking breathe as his soft lips explore my hyper sensitized skin.

A fact I’m guessing he’s betting on.

Honestly, in any other context, I’d just give up. I’ve already chosen to be reckless, but if there is some local lore, I am physically required to know it. Even a thousand mind-blowing orgasms couldn’t be better than learning something little-known about one of my favourite things in the world.

“Can you repeat it once?” I don’t mean to sound so breathy, but from the way he tenses below me, he has no complaints.

I want to get it right, but guessing by the hard length settled between my thighs, I’m sure I could still get both first and second prize from him. It’s a heady feeling, having this man I’ve just met below me, promising to be on his knees for me, clearly enthusiastic about the idea of doing so.

“Anything for you.” his hot breath on my skin as he replies makes the growing need overtaking my body nearly unbearable, but I force myself to focus as much as I can.

As he speaks, I catalogue each word and how they fit together. I, unfortunately, or fortunately, however you look at it, also focus on the way his hands seem to be claiming the whole of my body. Like he can’t get enough of touching me.

I swallow a giggle as the absurdity of the situation hits me. Trying to work out the answer to a riddle while straddling a gorgeous man in public, who has woven rhyme into foreplay so seamlessly that I can already tell I’m soaked for him.

I knew I needed this trip.

I knew being here and seeing this monument of a creature, who has haunted my dreams for as long as I can remember, would be restorative.

I could not have predicted this part of it.

This man is making me feel more wanted and validated than I have in at least the last five years.

Maybe Tati really did do me a favour by breaking up with me before the trip.

Shaking the thought from my mind, I reach down and place my hands over his, holding them in place.

“You’re not letting me think,” I murmur in response to his questioning look. I’ve more or less abandoned the notion that he plans to murder me. He seems to be far too interested in making my heart race to be keen to stop it.

“I’ll behave. For now.” He leans back against the bench to look up at me expectantly, keeping his hands in place.

“Good boy.” The words earn me a shiver from Lachlan. It’s almost enough to derail my train of thought.

“The first line has to be something damp, or maybe something not corporeal at all, like the wind.” I reason aloud, trying to keep focused on my task.

If I hoped to get any new hints from his facial expressions, I toss that notion quickly. He doesn’t react at all to my words, as preternaturally still as the stone sphinx behind me.

“The second line is the tricky one. I have to assume alchemy is a metaphor here, so then we’re going for the base meaning, which would just be the transformation of matter-”

He moves below me and lets out a low sound in his throat that has the dull ache between my legs shifting to a higher intensity.

Maybe it’s my thought process, maybe it’s the fact that I’ve lowered myself further onto him.

I go to shift my weight into my knees again, but he pulls my hips down to keep me in place.

“You don’t need to hover, and you can keep that in mind for what comes next as well.”

I can’t seem to avoid the sound I make at that. I’ve never cared that I’m not a small woman, I love my thick thighs and hips, my curves, my tummy, but godsdamn is it hot when a man is not intimidated, and even enthusiastic about everything I’ve got going on.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. You said you’d behave.” I scold half-heartedly.

“Apologies, mistress.” He grins up at me, and a shiver runs through my entire body.

“The third line is obviously about rain.” I need to focus on safer thoughts. I’m not ready to examine how much this casual expectation of me being in control for our potential bedroom games boils my core.

“Assuming the alchemy is baking, and you’ve excelled by a certain coveted cake texture, the rest of the lines support the theory that the answer is a word. The most hated word in the English language, according to pop culture, anyway. Hence the cringe.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and I don’t even have to say it to know that I’m right, but I do, and I savour the moment.

“The answer is the word moist .”

Right when I speak it aloud, something sparks in the air between us. Surprise flashes across his face for a second, but he’s quick to smooth it out, giving me a generous smile as he nods his head.

“Yes, you’re very correct. Congratulations.” The words are right, but the way he’s looking at me is closer to what I’d expect if I told him I’d single-handedly solved world hunger, not what I’d expect from solving a word puzzle .

“It was good, it made me think. Even if you were making it hard to do so.” I glance down, noting he still has his hands on my hips.

“Well, you made some things hard for me, too.” He gestures vaguely to himself before he moves, bringing us both to standing, keeping me steadied while I find my footing.

“I feel more apologies are in order. I wouldn’t have riled you up if I had expected to leave you wanting.” The hunger that burns in his eyes serves to confirm he’d be happy to turn that want into fact.

“Well, maybe if this local lore is everything you promised, I could still see a case for you being on your knees for me.” I hold his gaze, thrilled when I see his teeth press into his bottom lip.

“Here’s hoping, gorgeous.”

He takes my hand and starts to lead me toward the massive stone structure. A warning about never going to a secondary location flashes in my mind, but at this point, I feel like he wouldn’t do anything to harm me. Frankly, it’s an odd feeling.

I don’t have much time to examine it before he’s lifting the small rope separating tourists from the looming sphinx and pulling me along with him.

I tense.

I hate being scolded, and there’s no way this isn’t going to be frowned upon by any staff or fellow tourists who see us.

Then again, as Lachlan predicted, I haven’t seen a soul besides him and me since I wandered down.

Really, I guess any cautious high ground I had to stand on went out the window the second I agreed to let him eat me out in public.

Methodically, he raps his knuckle against the sandstone. Is there a secret entrance? It’s not out of the realm of possibility. Giza has tunnels.

This museum has sworn up and down that Scotland’s Sphinx is completely solid, but there are a number of reasons they might mislead the masses .

I can’t keep my growing excitement contained, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Waiting.

When another ten seconds pass, and nothing happens, I’m tempted to laugh. If only to chase away the disappointment I feel.

Before I can let it settle, the sound of stone on stone fills my ears, and as quickly as the opening appears, Lachlan pulls us through into a dimly lit hallway.

I feel our arms jerk as I stop short, trying to process this massive piece of information.

“The tour guide said that it’s solid stone,” I murmur more to myself than to him, too overwhelmed by my surprise to care about much else.

“To them it is.” His hand tightens around mine as he pulls me through the rest of the hall and into a great cavernous space.

It’s nothing like it should be. Instead of cold and dark, it’s temperate and well lit, yet eerie in the sense that I can’t tell where the light sources are coming from.

It’s beautiful.

Instead of damp and stale air, each lungful is fresh, with hints of sandalwood, though that could just be the man in front of me; I’ve wanted to bury my nose in Lachlan since he shook my hand.

I try to focus past him onto the litany of new information flooding my senses.

The great room has a series of columns laid out almost reminiscent of the National Monument Avery took me to on the day we arrived.

“What on earth-”

He doesn’t wait for me to adjust to my surroundings before he’s urging me along, deeper into the structure, past the stunning columns that have much more detail than I can gather at a brief glance.

“How long have you been a fan of mythology?” His voice draws my attention away from the treasured architecture around us.

I note that he’s slowed down to accommodate my eyes roaming across every bit of the room. It’s sparse. Aside from the columns, all I can see is a stone throne that looks like it was made for someone not quite human. Overall, the space seems almost like a temple of sorts.

I answer him as I turn to make note of the path to the exit.

“For as long as I can remember.”

He nods with quick satisfaction before squeezing my hand again.

He doesn’t rush me, but he doesn’t quite let me look my fill either, gently edging us toward the large throne that commands the attention of the room.

It occurs to me that I should ask how much trouble we’ll be in if we’re found down here, but he’s speaking before I can, his tone too playful to interrupt.

“Are all your favourite tales the ones that involve half-lion beasts?”

I reach for my usual response, the one that isn’t off-putting, before promptly discarding it. Maybe I’ll try and bare my soul instead.

“The tales not so much, they’re too tragic. The sphinx is my favourite being, though. They are one of the few entities in history that are so present while simultaneously having so little information about them. Relatively speaking, that is.”

He studies me for a beat too long, his expression nothing like what I’m used to. There’s no confusion, no judgment, no exhaustion, just an idle curiosity.

“I’ve never heard those myths described as a tragedy.”

There’s no disagreement in his tone, just an observation.

“Well, perspective is what makes a tragedy. Most people only see one side, I think.”

He doesn’t speak for a few moments.

I’m so acutely aware of how close his body is to mine. I can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Most people don’t empathize much with the monster.” He finally responds softly. There’s something in his tone, but when his hand wraps around my waist, I have a hard time finding the thread of it.

I don’t understand why I react so viscerally to this man .

“Not all monsters are villains. Most people couldn’t identify a villain if their lives depended on it. Look at the state of politics.”

His arm doesn’t drop from my waist, holding me closer to him while his other hand moves to my face, his thumb tracing over my cheekbone and down to my chin.

“I need to kiss you.”

Need is an accurate description for the feeling flooding my senses. He tilts my chin up to his face, leaning down until he’s close enough I can almost taste him. He doesn’t close the distance, though, he waits until I can’t any longer.

Surging forward, I kiss him, and every fibre of my being responds.

I melt.

When his tongue meets mine, the sound that escapes me is inevitable. It doesn’t feel like a first kiss. There’s no hint of awkward trepidation; I’m not just kissing him. It feels like I’m claiming him, and it’s hot. Hot to the point my knees threaten to give out.

Lachlan doesn’t miss a beat.

Lean arms tighten around my waist, serving to keep me upright, pressing even more of his body against mine. I’m overwhelmed with sensation.

Our frenzy has only compounded as he matches my intensity perfectly, his lips now crashing against mine with an urgency I feel in my clit.

Then he shifts. His free hand has worked its way up my spine to tangle in my hair, and my focus sharpens like a laser on the way his cock presses into my stomach.

The impression I get from feel alone has a little hint of fear mixing with my heady anticipation.

It takes every ounce of restraint I have left not to reach for him. He feels far too big.

I kiss him until I’m shaking. Until I can’t think beyond needing to deal with the tension that’s wound me up past the point of rational thought.

When we finally come up for air, I feel like I’m in a daze.

Like I don’t exist in my own body anymore, floating away in space, only anchored to reality by the pulsing need between my legs and the hard stone that brushes against the back of my thighs.

I let him ease me down into the seat, need flaring as he braces his hands on either side of me, leaning in to give me a soft kiss before he whispers against my lips.

“May I worship you properly now?”