Ducking down, he lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes.
“I know it’s embarrassing, but it’s really important that you tell me what’s going on with you, all right, Isla?” he asked her.
She nodded.
“I’ll tell you everything I know. Only, please do not be mad at me.”
“Never,” Sark promised. “Come on, baby—let’s talk.”
He led her over to the thick, mattress with its covering of green and purple leaves and sat down on it. Then he pulled her into his lap and looked into her eyes again.
“All right now,” he said gently. “Tell me—what’s this ‘Second Sign’ and what can I do about it? How can I help you?”
She bit her lip and looked down again.
“I…I am not sure you will wish to help when you know.”
“Just tell me about the Second Sign is and we’ll work it out together,” Sark assured her.
“Well…the Second Sign is called ‘The Nectaring’.” She nodded down at her swollen breasts again. “It is when a Moonstone goddess’s breasts fill with sweet nectar which must be…” Her words finished in a mumble that not even Sark could hear, despite his sharp Kindred hearing.
“What’s that?” he asked, frowning. “You said your breasts are filled with nectar that needs to be what?”
“Sucked out,” she said more clearly and then looked up at him, biting her lip. “But if you do not wish to do it—”
“Who said I didn’t wish to do it?” Sark asked her, frowning. “You need help—well, I’m here to help you. In any way. Come here…”
He turned her around so that she was straddling his lap, putting her full breasts right in his face. His cock surged at the sight of her full, ripe mounds but he could tell her nipples must be sensitive and possibly even sore.
Very gently, he circled one stiff peak with his tongue, lapping away the sweet, sticky nectar. It had a pleasant, mild flavor he rather liked.
Isla gave a gasping little cry and at first he was afraid he’d hurt her. But then she pressed forward, mutely begging him to do it again, and Sark realized that this was what she needed—this and more.
“Gonna suck you now, baby,” he murmured, looking up at her. “Gonna suck your sweet nipples and ease some of the pressure in your breasts. Just let me know if you need me to stop or if it hurts.”
“It…it doesn’t hurt,” Isla assured him breathlessly. “Please, Sark…” She thrust her breasts forward again and he took the hint.
Cupping one full breast in both hands, he sucked her dark nipple deep into his mouth. As the sweet nectar flowed across his tongue, he heard her moan in relief and pleasure and knew he was giving her exactly what she needed…
TWENTY-TWO
From the diary of Lady Isla, wife to Lord Baslik Le’rank of Telmar Two of the Orinthian System:
I must write about what happened tonight before I can go back and sleep in Sark’s arms. He is so warm and big and comforting, I cannot wait to snuggle up to him. But first I must write what is in my heart.
I was so frightened that he would be angry or disgusted when I got the Second Sign. The Nectaring can affect men in different ways. Nana had warned me that some would be understanding while others got upset.
Well, Sark was more than understanding. He took me on his lap and had me straddle him—a position which was most unladylike, but very intriguing. I could feel the hard ridge of his shaft through his black leather trousers. It parted my pussy lips through my panties when I rubbed against it—which I could not seem to help doing while he was sucking the nectar from my breasts.
“Oh, Sark!” I moaned, carding my fingers through his hair. He is so big I felt rather like a doll in his arms—but he was so gentle I had no fear at all of him. He sucked each of my nipples in turn, sucking each hard and long and deep into his mouth as he drew the sticky nectar from their tips.
But his hot mouth on my sensitive breasts, seemed to be causing me other problems. The sparks of pleasure he was causing in my nipples were shooting straight down to my forbidden area—my pussy, I mean—and making me feel hot and swollen down there. And all the fabric and leather between us was rubbing me the wrong way.
“Wait!” I cried at last, when the sensation became too intense.
He stopped, reluctantly I thought, and let my right nipple slip from his mouth.
“What is it, baby?” His deep voice was hoarse and I could feel how hard he was—but I could feel something else, too. Some kind of bumps or lumps that seemed like they might feel nice if there wasn’t so much lace and leather between us. But what were they?