Chapter 13 - Rosalind

I stumbled up to my room, still half drunk and still buzzing from the Crimson Bloom, and it took me three tries to get the key in the lock.

The room was small and nearly bare, but it was warm, and I was cold to the bone. I kicked off my boots, fought my way out of my cloak, and dropped onto the bed in my shirt and breeches, meaning to close my eyes for a minute.

But sleep wouldn’t come. My head was a mess. I was exhausted and aroused, and thanks to that damned Bloom I itched all over for a girl in my bed.

I sat up, scrubbed my face with both hands, and tried to think straight. Tomorrow I’d have to deal with Ashara and the amulet and whatever the hell was going on with my life. But tonight I wanted someone’s hands on me.

Knock. Knock.

It was so light I almost missed it. I frowned and wondered if the Bloom had me hearing things.

Knock. Knock.

There it was again. Who the hell would be knocking on my door at this hour? Maple? Had she decided to come up after all? The thought got more than my hopes up, until I remembered the cloaked girl next door. It could be her, but what would she want with me?

I got up, my legs still unsteady, and opened the door.

It wasn’t Maple. It was the cloaked woman from the room next door, the one I’d heard fucking through the wall since my first night, the one Maple had meant when she said discretion was part of the service.

I’d seen her around the Crooked Nail, always hooded, always heading straight for her room, and every glimpse I got made me want a better look. I’d passed her in the hallway more than once. We nodded at each other, she winked at me once, and one night when I had Lily with me she raised her cup to me. But we’d never spoken until now.

Up close she was even hotter than she’d looked in the hallway. Her long dark brown hair hung down her back in a tangled mess, and her big brown eyes were bright with mischief and, I was pretty sure, lust. She had a hungry little smile on her lips, and she clutched a shawl around her shoulders over her tunic, as if daring me to try and take it from her.

“I… I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, low enough that I had to lean in to hear her. “But… I…” She trailed off.

My cock was interested before the rest of me caught up, and the rogue in me figured a girl this worked up at my door was a gift from the gods, and you don’t send back a gift from the gods.

“It’s alright,” I said, and it came out as a croak, which was real smooth of me. “Come in.”

I stepped aside, and she didn’t hesitate, slipping past me into the room. She smelled like spice and flowers with sex underneath, and the room was so small I couldn’t smell anything else.

She stopped, shaking her head. “That effeminate pussy,” she muttered, more to herself than to me, then glared up at me, ready to bite somebody. “We had a fight. A stupid fight. And… he didn’t show up tonight.”

Ashara and the amulet went right out of my head. She was furious and gorgeous, and I was hot all over.

“I needed…” she whispered, and the hair on my arms stood up. “I needed… this.” She grabbed my shirt and yanked me toward her, and gods, she was stronger than she looked.

She kissed me hard enough to knock her teeth against mine, her tongue already in my mouth, and I got the message.

I grabbed the hem of her tunic, changed my mind, and scooped her up into my arms instead. Her shawl slid off onto the floor. She gasped and laughed, surprised, and wrapped her legs around my waist. I carried her the few steps to the bed, never breaking the kiss, and practically threw her onto the mattress. She landed with a thump, her hair all over the pillow, and she stuck her chin out at me, daring me to keep going.

I climbed on after her, my hands planted on either side of her head. We stared at each other, both of us breathing hard, and I had about one second to wonder what the hell I was doing before she went for my laces. We tore each other’s clothes off, popping buttons and snapping laces, until we were both naked.

She grabbed my cock, already rock hard, wrapped her fingers around it, and squeezed and stroked. I groaned out loud, needy as hell.

“Not yet,” I said, my voice hoarse. “My turn.”

I pushed her hands away and pressed her back down onto the mattress. She was smirking at me, so I grinned back and lowered my head.

I started with her breasts, teasing her nipples with my tongue and teeth until she was squirming under me and gasping. When she was panting hard, I moved lower, kissing my way down her belly while the muscles jumped under my lips. I got down between her thighs and stopped dead.

There, high on her inner thigh, right at the edge of the dark curls between her legs, was a tattoo. It was a crescent moon cradling a single star, and it was sexy as hell.

I brushed my lips against the tattoo and kissed it slowly, and she shivered.

“Beautiful,” I said, and I meant her pussy as much as the tattoo. I looked up at her face. She’d closed her eyes and was smiling.

She didn’t reply, just arched her back, pushing her hips up at my face. She grabbed two fistfuls of sheet, and her gasps turned into moans.

I got to work.

I used my tongue, my lips, my teeth, licking every inch of her I could reach, and gods, she tasted good. I found her clit and teased it, flicked it, sucked it, until she was bucking and moaning and couldn’t keep still.

Her moans were loud, uninhibited, the same noises that had kept me up through that wall, and this time I was the one causing them.

“Oh, gods… fuck…” she gasped, her voice ragged, her hips bucking against my mouth. “Don’t… stop…”

She pushed my head down, her fingers tangling in my hair, and shoved my face right where she wanted it. I wasn’t about to argue.

I slipped a finger inside her, then two. She was hot and soaking wet, and every time I moved them she jerked against my mouth. I could have stayed down there all night.

Who the hell was this woman, barging into my room and jumping me like that? I didn’t know, and right then I didn’t care. All I cared about was how she tasted and how loud she got when I touched her.

I was happily losing my mind between her thighs.

“Harder,” she begged. “Please… faster…”

So I gave it to her harder and faster, fingers pumping in and out, tongue working her clit, because I wasn’t stopping until she came. She clamped down on my fingers and started panting.

She arched her back, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, her thighs clamping around my head, a low, guttural moan rumbling in her chest. She was close. So close.

She cried out, her pussy spasming around my fingers, and she squirted.

It hit me square in the face, a hot, sweet-smelling gush that soaked my hair, my chin, and the sheets, and left me sputtering and gaping at her.

I lifted my head, blinking, and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. That had never happened to me before, and all I could think was, damn, I did that. She was still trembling, twitching, and she let out a small, breathless laugh.

“Ready… for… more…?” she panted.

Instead of answering, I climbed up over her, pushed her knees apart, and shoved my cock into her, hard, all the way to the balls.

She screamed loud enough to rattle the walls, her nails raking down my back, leaving stinging scratches. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t slow down. I drove into her again and again, every thrust harder than the last, because all I wanted was to fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight.

I wanted to come with her, and I was getting there fast.

She tightened around my cock and started shaking. She was close again. So close. And so was I.

“Fuck… fuck…” she gasped, her voice breaking.

I came so hard my whole body jerked, and I pumped my load deep inside her right as she went off again, arching off the bed, her pussy squeezing every drop out of me. She squirted again too, less this time, but she shook just as hard.

I was sure we’d woken up the entire inn.

I collapsed on top of her, both of us gasping for breath and still twitching. After a moment I rolled off beside her so I wouldn’t crush her and pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her, and she smelled like sweat and sex. She tucked in against me, her tits squashed against my chest and her leg thrown over mine, and let out a long, happy sigh.

“Rosalind,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “My name is Rosalind.”

“Sam,” I said. “Just… Sam.”