Page 47 of Tusks & Saddles

Chapter Twenty

Beatrix

T he reverence Welborn had for her name alone was doing terrible things to her.

Beatrix had been pleasantly surprised by that, but it wasn’t an unwelcome revelation. In fact, it made a lot of sense given her need for control. While her experience with sex had always been short-lived, Beatrix had always had to fight with the people she shared a bed with.

It wasn’t violent in the traditional sense.

Rather, Beatrix typically found herself having to voice her wants and needs a lot more than she would have liked.

It tended to make the encounters less enjoyable, and the realization that Beatrix needed to be the one navigating had shortened her list of potential suitors.

Although, suitors wasn’t the right choice of words.

Bedfellows? Lovers? Short encounters, or perhaps vast disappointments.

She supposed she was rather difficult in that regard.

Beatrix had rules to sex. The biggest one being that she never removed her veil.

It was her biggest deal breaker, so naturally, when Welborn had insisted she keep it on, she had all but fallen into his inexperienced hands .

Hands that were clutching her hips in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. It was adorable how eager Welborn was, though Beatrix reserved that train of thought. She doubted his ego would have appreciated the word, and Beatrix so wanted his first time to be the best it could.

If I can handle Gambler’s Luck without blowing off my fingers, I can certainly handle this beautiful boy.

“Just breathe, Welborn,” Beatrix instructed. “And let’s take off some of these layers, hmm? Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, Miss Eaves.”

Beatrix ached, but she focused on the task at hand.

Underneath his robes and outer clothes was a decent bit of armor.

Most holy types had armor, as they were willing to fight for their gods in the truest sense of the word.

Yet, it was relatively unadorned with all the embellishments Beatrix had seen others wear.

Clean and new, with no signs of major wear or evidence of battle.

It was easy enough to find the fasteners and set them loose.

Peeling the armor from his body, Beatrix carefully placed it to the side.

She adjusted the veil around them when she came back to rest firmly in his lap.

The resulting whimper wasn’t lost to Beatrix as she reached for Welborn’s tunic.

The small opening near the top hinted at more of his lovely ombre skin, beautiful shades of green that grew darker upon her inspection.

Welborn’s breathing had grown even more labored, and they hadn’t even really started yet.

Moving slowly wasn’t just torturous for the cleric.

It was taking everything within Beatrix’s disciplined mind not to tear the remainder of his clothes off.

Welborn was lovely, slender, but solid beneath her gloved fingers.

Despite the desire that grew in her belly, Beatrix was acutely aware of every move Welborn made.

Every unsaid thing his body did was an indicator of his willingness to go down this road with her.

And for any reason he needed to take a break or even stop, Beatrix was only happy to do so.

His trust, his comfort—these were things she wanted to provide for him.

“Can I help?”

Welborn’s voice was weak, as if he was about to pass out, but his intentions were clear. His hands—shaky—came up to gently close around her gloved hands.

“Of course,” Beatrix said, softly. “Whatever you need.”

“Also—I…I know you value your privacy, but… can I see you, too? Like this?”

“How? How do you want to see me?”

The heat his body radiated could have warmed Beatrix throughout any cold desert night. Still, Beatrix was patient, and when he didn’t say a word, she was quick to help him.

“Tell me what you want to see, holy man,” Beatrix cupped his face in her hands, preventing him from avoiding her heavy gaze. “If you can’t use your words, use your hands.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the praise that did it or Welborn’s growing confidence in this newfound intimacy, but for whatever reason, his hands firmly cupped the sides of her breasts. It caught her off guard for a moment, but Beatrix couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her pleased mouth.

“I see,” she hummed. “Let’s fix this, hmm?”

He nodded.

Words might have escaped Welborn, but the speed at which he was able to pull the corset off of Beatrix was a little impressive.

If Beatrix didn’t know any better, it was as if Welborn had been thinking about removing it from her for a while.

After all, it was a custom-made bit of armor, yet his fingers had naturally found fasteners to lay the sophisticated piece next to his own armor.

It seemed to open the floodgates as Welborn’s hands rushed to remove more layers.

Any hopes of slowing down for his sake had quickly been abandoned.

The mutual need to see more skin, to feel more skin, was suddenly so much more important than whatever plan Beatrix had been crafting in her mind.

Stripped down to their simplest of undergarments as Welborn enthusiastically kissed her neck and shoulders.

Beatrix couldn’t remember the last time she felt this kind of urgency.

The kind of desire that needed to be extinguished before her skin caught on fire.

That same burning passion was what caused Beatrix’s bare fingers to pull at the short hair at the back of Welborn’s head.

The younger man gasped, lips tearing from the tops of her breasts as he stared up at her, a fog of lust obscuring his vision.

Helplessly, Beatrix kissed him, tongue caressing his until the need to breathe pulled her from him.

“I wanted to go slow, but I don’t think I can,” she panted.

“Don’t go slow, Miss Eaves, please. I don’t think I can stand it. I need—I need you, please.”

“For fuck’s sake, Welborn,” Beatrix sighed, a pained expression across her face. “You can’t say stuff like that to me. You’re making me crazy. ”

“Me? Miss Eaves, what are you talking about? You’re a dream.

I’ve never felt anything this intense before.

I feel like if I don’t keep going, I’m gonna explode into a million pieces.

I have never wanted something as badly as this, and it’s so illogical,” Welborn laughed, a wide grin of disbelief along his face.

“I don’t know what this is, but I want it.

I want you, Miss Eaves. Please? Please , I need you so badly—”

Beatrix’s hand slipped beneath his drawers and closed around his cock.

The yelp he let out was cute, but the way he shuddered beneath her hand was doing so much for her prideful ego.

His eyes shut, his face tense as he tried to stop his hips from pumping forward.

He was already so slick, so eager for her.

It was hard not to be flattered as her fingers worked him, spreading more of him over his length.

“I—” Welborn shivered. “Fuck, oh, that’s good.”

“Are you enjoying yourself, Welborn?”

“Yes, yes, Miss Eaves. I—ah, I am!” His hand shot forward, tightening around her wrist to still her. “But I—I might like it a little too much. I don’t want this to be over before it starts, if that’s all right?”

“Of course,” Beatrix replied, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. “Thank you for telling me.”

He nodded, nearly groaning as she withdrew her hand.

The agony of waiting would be short-lived as Beatrix raised slightly onto her knees, bunching the material of her slip out of the way.

She shifted back down, hand snaking beneath the undergarment.

When Beatrix’s hand found him again, she connected him directly with her.

The moment their skin touched, they both moaned in unison .

It had been so long since Beatrix had felt this. The sensation of his cock brushing against her cunt—it made Beatrix’s thighs tremble. Welborn’s grip on her outer thighs tightened beneath her skirts. His tusks jutting out from his bottom lip as his teeth clenched.

“Are you ready?” Beatrix asked, rubbing the length of him against her. “Are you ready to be inside me, Welborn?”

“Miss Eaves,” he whimpered.

From any other man it would have been a pitiful sound, but from Welborn? All it did was excite Beatrix. To know that he was so eager and wanted her so badly that he could barely contain himself—

“Fuck,” she sighed. “Okay, shh. I’ll give you what you want.”

The stretch was a momentary discomfort that Beatrix could have remedied with her own fingers if she had properly planned ahead.

She had a feeling Welborn would have lost his senses if she started that way.

If the way his hands tightened on the outside of her thighs, mindful of the tender skin of her injury.

His head had fallen back, as if his neck could no longer support it.

His eyelashes were fluttering, his chest almost erratic as he gulped air down as if he were drowning.

It was, without a doubt, one of the most attractive sights Beatrix had seen in a long time.

“How does that feel?” she asked, running her hands along his shoulders. “Everything okay?”

Welborn nodded—a frantic motion as he bit his lip.

“It’s good—” he huffed. “I—oh, it’s so much better than I dreamed.”

The admission warmed her skin, and she involuntarily clenched around him. Another groan escaped his mouth, a small stream of sweat fell at the edge of his temple.

“Good. I’m going to start moving now. If you need me to stop—for whatever reason—please let me know,” she instructed. “And if you can’t talk, just tap my ankle.”

“Yes, Miss Eaves,” he managed.

Bracing her hands firmly on his shoulders, Beatrix rose and fell.

The second thrust had made the slide a lot more comfortable, notching Welborn’s cock exactly where Beatrix needed it.

Or perhaps she had simply gotten wetter.

The fluid that was gathering between them was growing with every twist of her hips and every pant that escaped.

Pleasure that was well-known to her building rapidly, and from the way Welborn was nosily sighing and groaning, Beatrix only felt more heated.

The air beneath her veil had grown humid, sweat falling freely on their skin.

When they kissed and the salty taste of Welborn’s upper lip hit Beatrix’s tongue, she moaned into his mouth.

Beatrix wasn’t prepared for when Welborn’s hands slipped toward her ass, pulling her closer to his hips, and pumping eagerly into her cunt.

Perhaps it was the sound of her taking pleasure that had set him off, but whatever the reason, Beatrix wasn’t going to complain.

She wanted him to take pleasure in her body, the same body Beatrix had wanted to hide once she left her home.

It had been forever since someone had seen her, even obscured beneath the veil with only the scarce light of the nearby fire trickling in.

Yet, the way Welborn would catch her gaze beneath his half lidded eyes, the way his hand slipped to the small of her back to keep her hips meeting his—it all left her gasping and wanting more .

Reason and logic.

Careful planning.

Safety and security.

All of it was swept away by impulse as Beatrix threw her head back with a cry.

The action knocked her hat off her head, sending the veil somewhere behind her.

Light suddenly flooded her vision. As the chill night air brushed her exposed skin, Beatrix saw something out of the corner of her eye.

Glowing, tiny—whatever it was held her attention for only a moment as Welborn lifted his hips and gave a deep thrust that sent her falling back toward him.

“Welborn!”

“Ah, Miss Eaves,” he whispered with awe as bright yellow eyes stared up into her face. “Oh, fuck, you’re more beautiful than I could ever imagine.”

Such devout words could only ever be sincere when they came from Welborn’s mouth.

Beatrix wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her breasts as her movements grew unrestrained.

The unexpected move had Welborn gasping against her damp skin, hands fisting the material of her dress at the small of her back.

“Miss Eaves, I… I’m—”

“I know,” she gasped into his ear. “I’m close. Oh, be good for me, Welborn. Be a good boy and give it to me—”

Beatrix felt Welborn seize as pleasure exploded behind her eyes.

Hot warmth flooded between them, sticky against their sweaty thighs.

Her tail had uncurled from around her waist, coiling around his thigh and tightening.

Still, Beatrix kept moving, gently fucking Welborn until he let out one final groan and fell backwards, taking Beatrix with him.

Beatrix wasn’t sure how long she laid, frantically trying to catch her breath in her pleasure-soaked body.

However, she was quick to notice how still Welborn had gone.

Confused, she lifted her damp head and frowned at his lax expression.

“Welborn?” Beatrix reached up, gently tapping his chin. Her eyes widened when he didn’t react. “Welborn!”