The sound Lynn made was loud enough to echo through the trees. Oh God, oh God, the feel of his tongue against her clit…! Pressing firm and wet along it, licking up, and then how he sucked at the very tip, sending pleasure bursting through her body.
Then she felt his fingers, teasing at her entrance. He traced around it, slow and soft, over and over and over, while his tongue played games on her clit. Fast, slow, up, down—Lynn thought she might scream, but she wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or frustration at the way he kept her dancing on the edge.
Then, finally, finally, he settled into a hard, fast rhythm, licking close and firm. His tongue caught up all the little fiery bits of pleasure he’d been evoking, found them and corralled them all together, until she could feel it snowballing, building like an avalanche.
And then it crested, and peaked, and she came. She gasped for breath, her head back and her mouth open as her inner muscles locked in wracking pleasure. Her hands clenched in the pine needles, and Ken had to hold her hips still, or she would have thrashed her way off of his mouth.
Which would’ve defeated his purpose, she realized after a long moment. Because while spots were still hovering in front of her eyes, her body wringing itself out against his tongue, he was starting again.
He chased the aftershocks like he’d chased the beginnings of pleasure before. He kept his tongue soft and slow, careful not to overstimulate. Once in a while, he hit an oversensitive spot and Lynn’s hips twitched away, and every time he pulled back immediately, waited a second, and tried somewhere else.
And it was working.
Lynn had never come twice in a row before, at least not without a long rest. But she knew her body, and she was ramping up for a second round.
As desire really started to build again, she was aware that as sensitive as her clit was, there was still one area of her body that hadn’t gotten any attention at all. She caught her breath, and reached down to thread her fingers through Ken’s hair.
She hadn’t touched it yet, she realized, and she was arrested for a moment, distracted from her purpose by how soft it was.
Ken made a pleased sound as her hand curved over his scalp, and Lynn made a mental note to explore that later. For now, though…she tugged gently.
His head came up immediately. “Too much?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not enough,” she said.
Ken’s smile was wicked. “Oh, really?”
He was still wearing all of his clothes. “I want to see you,” fell out of her mouth.
He raised his eyebrows, looked down at himself.
Lynn’s voice sharpened—it was funny, she never had any trouble being commanding, but she hadn’t ever quite managed it in this context before. “Naked.”
The grin broke out on his face once more. “As my lady commands.” He stood up, and in one powerful motion, pulled his shirt off over his head. Then he tugged off each of his boots—order of operations figured out by now, Lynn noted wryly—unbuttoned his pants, and slid them down. His underwear (boxers? briefs? She only saw a waistband, and couldn’t tell) got pulled along with them, and he stepped out of them, leaving him suddenly and gloriously naked.
He raised his eyebrows. “Well?”
Lynn had to take a moment just to look at him.
He was heavily muscled, with powerful arms, a thick core, and legs like tree trunks. Most shifters had a natural layer of muscle in their human forms, but this went above and beyond. Lynn wondered when he found the time to work out—or perhaps an environmental scientist position required more heavy lifting than she’d realized.
There was more gray in his body hair than on his head, adding a silvery sheen to the amber curls on his chest, his legs, and…between them.
He was very well-endowed. Lynn’s eyes caught on his generous erection, moved away, and then returned, helplessly. The ache between her own legs intensified as she imagined that inside of her.
But she wanted one more moment to look her fill. In fact, it was hard to look away, because the sun was now fully risen, sending early-morning rays over the mountains, and Ken’s body was illuminated in the new sunlight. It lit his hair into an amber fire, and threw his muscles into a play of light and shadow that made Lynn think of famous paintings.
“I wish I could take a picture of you right now,” she murmured.
“Of me?” Ken asked. “You should see yourself, draped naked over the moss like some Renaissance goddess. Venus or Artemis or someone.”
His words were so close to what Lynn had been thinking that it felt uncanny, like their thoughts were in sync. Lynn studied him for a moment longer, feeling a frown between her eyebrows.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing.” They were both naked in the middle of the forest at dawn; it probably wasn’t weird at all that their thoughts had both gone to old paintings.
“Seen enough?” His eyebrows quirked again.