Page 46 of Tusks & Saddles

Chapter Nineteen

Welborn

“ Y es.”

Welborn had barely managed the word out of his throat when Miss Eaves pressed her mouth to his. Her lips were dry—not surprising given the rough environment—but they were warm and soft. A shock to his nervous system at the gentle, if not firm, press of mouths.

He was understandably shaken by the abrupt change in their conversation, but Welborn also wasn’t a complete fool. Inexperienced? Absolutely! But a fool he was not. Eventually, his brain understood that he really should be kissing Miss Eaves back.

Welborn hadn’t done a lot of things with a woman, but when he was younger, he had kissed a girl.

Or rather, she had kissed him. It had been a dare, a child’s game really.

A moment that lasted all but a second and was gone just as quickly.

He doubted the orc girl—who had been much taller than him—even remembered it or him.

While his experience may have been lacking, Welborn had plenty of curiosity and enthusiasm to make up for it.

Or rather, he was determined to make up for it as he returned the gentle pressure of Miss Eaves’ soft mouth.

Her lips were just as dry as his, but all of that didn’t matter to him.

She was warm, even with the fire at his back.

Her breath was hot, the air escaping through her nostrils against the side of his cheek.

It was new, strange, and exciting all at the same time.

A moment that Welborn had only allowed to creep into his mind as he watched the horizon for danger.

He had never thought she would willingly return his affection.

In fact, up until a few conversations ago, Welborn had thought Miss Eaves would never speak to him again.

And now she’s kissing me!

The panicked thought filtered through Welborn’s nervous mind.

He wasn’t even certain if he was kissing correctly when he noticed his hands were hanging limply in the air.

Welborn hadn’t dared touch Miss Eaves when she planted herself into his lap, yet she was firmly pressing her own gloved hands into his shoulders.

The heat of her crept past her gloves, past Welborn’s own clothing and armor, straight to his own skin.

He felt charged, felt anxious, and knew he needed to put his hands somewhere, but where was the best place?

This was a kiss—or rather, had been a series of kisses now.

Did a press of lips and separation count as a single kiss, or did it count once they fully separated?

These were some of the questions that Welborn felt like he needed to know in order to proceed.

Yet another thing he had wished Boone had told him about before he ran away to pursue his education as a paladin.

“Welborn?” Miss Eaves whispered against his mouth.

He was so dizzy, the air so hot beneath her veil that he almost hadn’t heard it.

“I—what? Did I do something wrong? ”

“No, silly holy man,” she chided, honeyed smoke that went straight to his heart.

Or maybe that was his groin.

“Are you okay?”

“I—” Welborn’s brows furrowed, blinking as if it would bring him back to the present. “I’m fine. I’m fine—ah, better than fine! I’m the best I’ve ever been and—”

“You’re nervous. I can tell. It’s okay.”

“I… A little bit.”

Miss Eaves mouth curled into a smile that Welborn only knew was there because he could feel it against his chin. He tried not to tremble.

“You haven’t ever…”

Kissed a woman? Held a woman in my lap? Thought about a woman’s mouth? Thought about what that woman would look like beneath her armored corset?

“I haven’t done a lot of things with…ah, with a woman before.”

The heat in Welborn’s cheeks could have set him on fire. A deep, dark green coloring his face in a way that would have had Boone doubled over laughing when they were younger. Welborn had always been quick to embarrass.

Miss Eaves hummed. Was it his imagination, or had her thighs tightened around his hips? Her breath tickled his neck, broken as if she were winded after running. Welborn did jump when she leaned closer, her lips brushing his earlobe .

“Would you like to?”

Before Welborn could stop himself, he cursed. If he wasn’t already blushing, he certainly would be now that Miss Eaves was laughing softly in his ear at his reaction.

This isn’t happening. There’s no way this is happening right now. This is a dream. This has to be a dream!

He must have temporarily blacked out, or his spirit had ascended to the spiritual realm, because Miss Eaves was no longer pressing close.

Welborn felt panicked as she withdrew, shifting backward and hands falling to his chest as if to push herself away.

Panic drove Welborn to grip her hips and hold her still.

“I—”

“I’m sorry, Welborn,” Miss Eaves sighed. “I didn’t even think about the implication of what this means for you. I didn’t want to assume, but if you’re god requires you to not partake in physical plea—”

“It doesn’t!” he exclaimed. “The All Seer doesn’t require their followers to take a vow of celibacy! In fact, it’s the opposite of that!”

Miss Eaves froze, her hands still against his chest.

“Really?”

“Really! The All Seer is the god of curiosity. We’re encouraged to explore, ah, to try new things!” Welborn said, eyes large behind his dirty glasses. “I’ve never explored this before, and I don’t see how they would…. disapprove .”

Desperation may have had a heavier hand in his explanation, but it wasn’t a lie. New experiences were encouraged; curiosity was meant to pave a road toward discovery. Being a follower of the All Seer was to pursue such fascinations, to gain first-hand knowledge of the unknown.

And up to this point, Miss Eaves had been so unknown to him, but Welborn was resolute to know more. He needed to know more about this woman, but…

“But,” he licked his lips. “I’m afraid I’m completely out of my depth here.”

Miss Eaves sank back into his lap. The comforting weight nearly made Welborn sigh with relief.

Or perhaps it was the welcoming pressure of her body against the very prominent problem at the front of his pants.

Her hands found purchase on his shoulders again, and Welborn didn’t dare move an inch for fear that she would disappear with her veil blowing in the wind.

“Do you trust me?” Miss Eaves asked.

The question was still fresh in the air when Welborn squeezed her hip in acknowledgment.

“Explicitly.”

Miss Eaves smiled.

“Good. Try to relax. We’ll go slow. I’ll tell you what to do.”

Welborn nodded, staying perfectly still as Miss Eaves removed his glasses and set them somewhere outside his field of vision.

“Kiss me.”

Despite his nerves and the shaking of his ribs, Welborn closed the distance between them and kissed her.

He still wasn’t sure if he was doing it right.

There wasn’t enough information for him to say with absolute certainty that he was.

But he knew how to pay attention and knew to keep his senses open to his surroundings.

And what Welborn discovered was that Miss Eaves was enjoying herself.

He doubted she would be running her gloved hands through his hair if she didn’t.

Or letting out those content little sighs whenever their mouths would open and meet again and again.

Each passing kiss was a spark, like the electricity Welborn called down with his magic.

Different from divine magic but somehow exactly the same.

Thrilling, heart pounding—it all made him lightheaded.

“You okay?” she asked after a long bout of kissing.

“Yeah,” Welborn said, surprised at how out of breath he was.

“I’m going to kiss you again, but this time I’m going to press my tongue against your lips. When you feel that, I want you to open your mouth. Can you do that for me?”

Fuck.

At that moment, Welborn would have thrown himself to the baby monsters circling the boulder if it meant Miss Eaves would put her tongue in his mouth.

“Welborn?”

“Yes,” he shook his head. “I mean, I understand, Miss Eaves.”

She didn’t admonish him for keeping up the formalities. In fact, she seemed pleased with it, though Welborn couldn’t figure out why.

“Good boy,” she praised.

Oh.

A different shiver along his spine. A very different warmth in his groin.

Welborn could only close his eyes when Miss Eaves kissed him next.

He didn’t say he whimpered so much as let out a startled sound when her hot tongue slid along the seam of his lips.

Obediently, he opened his mouth, and her tongue slid inside.

It was different. Curious, and wet, of course, but so very warm.

Welborn had never given much thought to the purpose of tongues outside of taste and picking his teeth clean of jerky.

But now, oh, he was certain the purpose of his was to be ensnared by Miss Eaves’ tongue.

To feel this muscle—so powerful and sharp when forming words—stroke along his own, spreading saliva against his teeth—

Shit, he thought . Shit, shit, shit.

It was just a kiss, just tongues, but Welborn was so wound up by it.

Without rhyme or reason, his grip on Miss Eaves hips tightened, and he brought her hips flush against his.

The gasp that tore from her mouth made him groan.

The sound would have mortified him if they weren’t blanketed beneath her veil.

Even if the aid of cloth had been absent, it wasn’t as if there were actual people in the middle of the Wastelands.

No, whatever shame had colored Welborn’s cheeks was now being replaced with desire.

Miss Eaves felt good, and she was making him feel really good.

There was so much possibility before them, so much to discover, and it was all Welborn could do but kiss Miss Eaves when she met his mouth with a growing intensity.

The subtle shift of her hips had him breaking out into a sweat.

Or maybe it was the humid air between them beneath her veil .

Helplessly, Welborn’s own hips gave an involuntary jerk in return.

It caused another gasp to escape Miss Eaves mouth, one that fell over Welborn’s cheek.

Instead of returning to his mouth with her tongue, Miss Eaves lips had found his neck.

He groaned at the sensation of her teeth pressing against his skin.

Her teeth felt different, the canines appearing to be longer than the blunt incisors.

Miss Eaves could have had the deadliest set of teeth in all of Ordia, and Welborn would only ever offer her his neck if it meant she’d continue sucking the way she was.

It was difficult not to think of that same sensation in other places.

Any notion of propriety in his thoughts had promptly sailed to new worlds, leaving behind only the deepest, most private of thoughts behind.

The ones that teased his mind the last week while he was drifting off to bed.

Or those mornings when he woke up and had to wait a good deal before going to the washroom.

I want her mouth there, Welborn thought. I want her mouth everywhere, but what would it be like to have it around—

“Ah!”

The sound that escaped Welborn startled him and he bit his lip to prevent any others like it. Miss Eaves hand gently caressed the hair at the base of his skull, her mouth separating from his neck like some kind of blood sucking fiend.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no! Not at all! It’s just…”

Miss Eaves waited, but when Welborn’s mouth refused to answer, she gently prodded at the robes around his shoulders. They fell away, bunching around his elbows behind him. For whatever reason, the task gave him the courage to speak once more .

“It’s just a little embarrassing…you’re just kissing my neck.”

It was confusing given Welborn thought his desire outweighed his nerves, but he had obviously been mistaken.

“Don’t be shy, Welborn,” Miss Eaves cooed. “You don’t have to hide from me. Let me hear you.”

“I—yes, Miss Eaves.”