Page 48 of Tusks & Saddles

Chapter Twenty-One

Welborn

T here were spots in his vision when Welborn came to.

Where he went, the cleric couldn’t say. Only that his memory was a little fuzzy, and the only other thing he was aware of was a pain radiating from the side of his face as something had just struck him hard.

Welborn jerked, eyes snapping open in bewilderment and focusing on the sight of Miss Eaves’ face.

Her face.

Oh, Miss Eaves’ face was a sight to behold.

The loveliest lilac hue Welborn had ever seen that could only put every other flower to shame.

Her mouth was plush, dare he say pouty, as she looked down at him with those golden-white orbs.

Her hair was in disarray, the braided bun partially falling over her shoulder.

Two beautiful horns curled around her head.

She was illuminated, like the divine magic that flowed through his body whenever he called to the All Seer.

Where is all the light coming from? Welborn dazedly wondered.

“Oh, thank the Dauntless Verity!” Miss Eaves exclaimed. “Welborn, are you okay? ”

“Yes?” Welborn frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Had something happened? It was hard to tell with how fuzzy everything was. Pleasantly so, even.

“Why—” Miss Eaves sighed. “Welborn, you passed out!”

“I—”

Oh.

There was his memory, rushing to the surface through the haze. He had just had sex with the most beautiful woman in the world, and Welborn was mortified at the realization that he had fainted after coming inside her.

The rush of blood to his face was too much, his hands coming to cover his eyes in embarrassment.

It only grew when he realized he’d realized he could still see Miss Eaves through the missing hole in his hand.

She looked relieved, her mouth turning into a soft smile, though there was no mistaking the mischievous lift of her eyebrow.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself that much, huh?”

Bashfully, Welborn slowly lowered his hands.

“Very much, Miss Eaves,” he whispered.

To add to his embarrassment, she bent down and pressed a quick kiss to his warm nose.

“I’m glad,” she said. “Come on, sit up. You should drink some water. Can’t have you fainting again.”

With a hand steadying his elbow, Welborn slowly got off his back.

Once in a seated position, Miss Eaves pressed the water skin to his hand.

Instead of politely declining, Welborn drank nearly all of it before wisdom reminded him to save some for the next day.

He would need at least a drop if he wanted the divine magic to replenish it.

The cleric was in the middle of sealing the water skin shut when he noticed the strange glowing lights drifting in the air around the boulder.

“What…”

“They’re Canna cactus fairies. Gimdor explained it to me the first time we went through the Searing Wastelands.

They’re small, harmless really. Look a lot like weird bugs.

I noticed a few days ago that this area had a few of them.

The flowers bloomed yesterday. I was just…

well, I was preoccupied with keeping an eye out for the mother to tell you. ”

A new discovery, a new creature to study.

Ordinarily, Welborn would have been over the moon.

The luminescence of the fairies was a sight to behold.

He was certain his mother would have loved it—the soft hues of pink across the bare dirt.

Yet, Welborn’s attention was drawn back to the woman at his side.

Perched on her heels, Miss Eaves was still dressed in the simple cotton slip.

The fabric covered what it needed, but it couldn’t hide the pebbled nipples beneath.

Welborn’s unhelpful mind cursed him for not paying attention to her breasts more.

He hadn’t even gotten to touch them with his bare hands.

Welborn ignored the growing interest in his cock, reaching for his robe. Before Miss Eaves could protest, he wrapped the garment around her shoulders. She accepted it, tugging the fabric around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome. ”

Silence followed, and while Welborn couldn’t say for certain what Miss Eaves was thinking, he was doing as well as expected. Meaning, he was silently spiraling as his mind raced with information that he was desperately trying not to talk to his god about.

He had just had sexual relations with a woman.

Really, really amazing sexual relations with a woman who Welborn was really, really smitten with.

He had kissed and licked and touched—all of it fantastic and scary and beyond his imagination.

And Miss Eaves, she had touched him too. But as to what came after…

She’s obviously experienced in this. She knew exactly what to do, Welborn thought.

Which means she’s been with other people—people who may have had sex and are also more experienced than I am…

shit, do I need more experience? Do I ask her how it was?

Do I need to do something different? Did she enjoy it?

Did she want to do it again? I hope she wants to do it again—but what if she doesn’t?

! What if this was some form of pity sex? ! What if it was so bad that she—

“Hey, stop that.”

Welborn shook his head. Miss Eaves was staring at him, her chin resting on her knees. He couldn’t say for certain how long she had been observing him, but Welborn was incredibly thankful that she wasn’t a psychic. The last thing he needed was for her to hear his panicked ruminations.

“I—” he licked his lips. “Sorry, I was somewhere else there.”

“I could tell. When you’re thinking too much, your forehead wrinkles,” Miss Eaves said, pressing a bare finger to the point between his eyes. “Gold piece for your thoughts? ”

Welborn shifted on the ground, letting out a huff of air. “You don’t need to pay for my thoughts, Miss Eaves. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“All right…” she leaned closer. “What are you thinking about?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to do it again.”

“Do what again?”

Fuck, why is her voice like that? Why does she have to be so damn attractive?!

Nervously, Welborn licked his lips and met her gaze.

“I wanted to know if you’d like to…um…have intercourse again?”

The moment the word left Welborn’s mouth, he immediately regretted it. More so when Miss Eaves’ serene expression cracked with mirthful laughter.

“Intercourse?” she cackled, even as Welborn sank his head into his hands in embarrassment.

“I didn’t know how to say it without sounding weird,” he whined into his solid palm, ears burning with every musical note of her laughter. “I’m gonna go face the other side of the desert now—”

“Don’t you dare,” Miss Eaves said, pulling his hands away from his face. “How am I going to watch you lose yourself again if you’re over there?”

“Watch—” Welborn’s eyes widened. “You—then you do? I mean, with me? You want to—with me again?”

What were words when Welborn could just share half-formed thoughts instead?

His thick tongue wasn’t doing him any favors, but Miss Eaves appeared to understand his rambling anyway.

That or she chose to ignore it as she wrapped her legs around his waist, planted her hands on his shoulders, and immediately pulled.

Welborn hadn’t been expecting the move, quickly collapsing on top of her with just enough time to brace his hands against the ground.

“Miss Eaves!” he exclaimed, worriedly searching her face for an injury.

“Hush, I’m fine,” she said with a smile, back pressed against the hard ground.

“Why—”

Welborn lost all sense of reason as her hand wrapped around his cock. He nearly choked when she pressed it against her entrance.

“You’re a young man, Welborn,” Miss Eaves hummed. “I’m sure you have another in you, don’t you?”

Based on how quickly he grew beneath her hand, Welborn could only nod.

“Good,” she said. “Why don’t you take the lead this time? Can you do that for me, beautiful boy?”

“Yes,” Welborn groaned.

Whether he was obeying her request or simply lost in the sensation of sinking back into her, he wasn’t sure.

All Welborn knew was that Miss Eaves felt just as wonderful as the first time.

A heat that was like nothing he had ever known before that night, one that Welborn helplessly buried himself in over and over again.

For all of his inexperience, there was something very cathartic about having sex—instinctual, even.

Though he questioned whether or not it was wise to voice those near-philosophical thoughts to Miss Eaves.

She was so beautiful to look at, head thrown back against the ground, back arching as Welborn rolled his hips.

Their first time together had been about his first, but this time was about exploration.

About knowing what she liked—this much Welborn was determined to know.

Welborn experimented, daring to touch more than just her hips.

Miss Eaves liked it when he brushed her nipple over her slip.

But when Welborn dared to mouth the hardened flesh through the material, she gasped and arched even higher to him.

She also seemed to like it when he shifted his hips—a different angle that appeared to have aligned with some magic inside of her.

“Welborn,” she gasped. “Welborn, don’t tease.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No,” another moan, another hitch of breath. “I want more. Put your mouth on me, Welborn, put your fingers here—”

Miss Eaves’ hands fell from his hair, but her hips kept moving against his.

She tore at the string at the front of her slip until her breasts were bare.

The sight nearly stalled Welborn, his eyes fixated on the gentle sway of them with every heavy exhale.

It was her fingers that startled him, brushing against his pubic bone.

“Bring your hand here,” she said.

Welborn did, allowing Miss Eaves to guide his hand between them. He was confused at first, until his fingers brushed something that made Miss Eaves jump. Reflexively, Welborn paused, ready to rip his hand away, but Miss Eaves held onto him.

“This, this right here,” she sighed with pleasure. “Rub your fingers here, like this. ”

The motion was easy enough to follow with her guiding his hand. Once he recognized the pattern, Welborn rubbed and watched in awe as she groaned louder.

“Yes, yes, like that,” she nearly cried, releasing his hand. “Oh, keep moving, Welborn!”

He had always been a good student, and this was no different.

Welborn rolled his hips more steadily now, his fingers moving urgently against her skin.

When Miss Eaves’ hands landed in his hair, he followed her insistent guidance toward her breast. Her nipple felt different in his mouth, the plump flesh of her breast brushing against his face.

And the noises she was making—the sounds alone were enough to make him shiver. He felt her quiver, felt her tighten so harshly around his cock that Welborn gasped against her breasts.

“Oh, yes,” she cried. “Yes, oh, don’t stop!”

Fuck.

Eager to please, Welborn thrust with an abandon he had been trying to deny.

He grunted with every thrust, fingers gradually losing any finesse as she shuddered beneath him.

When her hands tightened along his scalp, wrists pressing against his pointed ears, Welborn knew something big was about to happen.

Could feel the way her hips suddenly met his more desperately.

“Welborn,” Miss Eaves moaned. “Oh, fuck, Welborn, I’m—”

“Yes,” he groaned against her breasts. “Yes, yes, yes—”

The mindless words that escaped Welborn’s mouth meant nothing as he spilled inside her, groaning with terrible relief.

He hoped she had reached her peak and was quickly assured she had as Miss Eaves tightened like a bowstring.

She tensed so harshly, that for a moment Welborn worried that he might have injured her.

But the mess of wetness between them said differently, and the way Miss Eaves gently rocked into him until exhaustion fell upon her reassured him of that.

Gasping, Welborn pressed his face more snugly against her, kissing the top of her breasts. Miss Eaves ran her fingers through his hair, rubbed the back of his neck.

Welborn knew only one thing as they caught their breath.

He really wanted to do the whole thing again.