Free Back to the Garden by Selena Kitt

being.
    —
    “I feel positively wolfish.” Luke confessed as Lily fumbled with her keys. She giggled as they tumbled into the house, and he pressed her back against the door.
    “What big eyes you have,” Lily whispered, playing along and trying to distract herself from the feelings welling up in her. Fairy tales she knew well, as Adam had read her countless, and for her, there was nothing bloodier or scarier than fairy tales, except maybe bible stories.
    “The better to see you with, my dear,” Luke grinned. He pressed against her harder, his mouth finding hers, and she felt as if she were floating, his lips soft and warm and then his tongue, oh my God, his tongue on hers, so unexpected, like an electric pulse running from the tip of her tongue to the tips of her toes.
    “Oh Luke,” she breathed, her hands pulling at the breeches at the waist. “What a big...” Her words were swallowed with another kiss, and she felt him swallowing her, there was no other sensation but this. “What a big...” She felt him pressing against her, down there, the hardness of him between her legs, but she couldn’t manage to get the word out of her mouth.
    “Yes,” he growled, grinding himself into her. “The better to fuck you with, my dear.” She gasped out loud at the harshness of the word, how it shocked and titillated her—the word, the thought, the act. Her body felt on fire and aching for something. She didn’t even know what.
    They found their way to the living room couch, Luke hungrily kissing her, mouth, neck, the tops of her breasts pushed up in their bodice. He unlaced her easily, and her dark nipples peeked over the top, playing hide and seek as she writhed beneath him.
    She shuddered as his mouth found first one, then the other, his tongue tracing hot, wet spirals she saw when she closed her eyes. His hands moved over her legs, up over her knee socks, pushing her skirt up high on her thighs and pressing himself between them. Her breath was coming too fast, making her dizzy. The room was spinning, and she groped at him for balance.
    His mouth pressed against her belly, his breath hot, and he whispered her name, “Lily, oh Lily,” again and again. It was like music.
    “Jeeeesus,” he breathed when he got to her panties, the sheerness of the fabric showing a moist, dark patch curling around the edges. Lily’s mouth was a small “o” as she looked down at him, pure wonder in her eyes.
    Luke took off his eye patch with a small smile, and then began covering her thighs with kisses, light as dove’s wings, and when his tongue reached the edges of the red lace, he pushed it aside, searching for her soft, red center.
    Lily groaned softly, her head moving from side to side. Something inside her was saying no, no, we can’t, but another part of her was moaning yes, yess, please God, yes!
    His tongue was doing unholy things to her, finding the sweet spot she thought only she knew about, the one she’d found a few years ago with pressing fingers, half asleep, not really waking from a spilling, throbbing dream. This sensation was beyond pleasure, beyond hope, beyond God. This must be heaven, she thought wildly as his tongue lapped at her over and over, the feeling building like the pressure of a dam about to burst.
    “Oh Luke, please,” she pleaded.
    He urged her on with his tongue, making soft encouraging noises in his throat, and the sight of him between her thighs, still in his breeches and boots, his shirt pulled out, sent her over an unexpected edge. “Oh God,” she moaned, “I’m… I’m…flooding...!”
    And she was, like a river of honey flowing over his tongue. Lily shuddered and gasped, her hands fists in his curls, pressing, pressing, and then she lay still, marveling. She welcomed the weight of him, stunned by the taste of herself on his tongue as he kissed her.
    “So beautiful,” he murmured. “My God, you’re so beautiful.”
    Her hand slowly crept and fumbled and found the front of his