CHAPTER 546: HIDING HEAT IN PLAIN SIGHT (4)

She’s thinking what I thought, Arielle realized, her mind flashing to the first time she’d felt Lyan’s size, the overwhelming heat and stretch. It’s huge.

Sigrid’s lips parted, her breath quickening, and Arielle gulped, her heart pounding as she watched, unable to look away. Lyan shifted slightly, his focus on Tara, who was still struggling under his arm. "Admit you lost," he teased, his voice a low rumble. But the movement made his hardness sway, brushing Sigrid’s cheek with a tap tap that made her eyes flutter. Arielle’s throat tightened, her arousal spiking despite herself as Sigrid’s lips closed around him, a soft slrp echoing in the quiet. She’s... Arielle thought, her mind a haze of shock and heat. Sigrid’s tongue swirled, a slow, deliberate slrp slrp as she took him deeper, her head bobbing with a rhythm that made Arielle’s thighs clench, the plug shifting with a warm pulse. She’s not stopping, Arielle thought, her face burning as Sigrid pulled his trousers lower, the fabric pooling at his thighs with a rustle.

Lyan didn’t falter, his voice steady as he pressed Tara. "Say it, Tara—admit defeat." Tara squirmed, her fair skin flushed, her thyme-scented hair tangled as she laughed, "Never!" Lara’s red braid swung as she struggled too, her freckled nose crinkling, her green eyes flashing with defiance. But Sigrid’s movements were relentless, her head bobbing faster, the slrp slrp growing wetter, louder. Arielle’s heart raced, her arousal a wildfire as she watched Sigrid’s muscular frame tense, her blue eyes half-closed in focus. She’s comparing it, Arielle thought, noticing Sigrid’s glance at Lara’s leg, the size of Lyan’s hardness dwarfing it in a way that made her own memories flare—it’s bigger than I remembered. Sigrid’s lips worked eagerly, a slrp slrp that was both reverent and hungry, her hands gripping his thighs as she took him deeper, her throat adjusting with a soft glk glk.

The air was thick with tension, the crackle crackle of the firepit a faint backdrop to the slrp slrp and the women’s muffled laughter. Lara and Tara’s struggles slowed, their eyes widening as they noticed Sigrid’s movements, her blonde ponytail swaying with each bob of her head. A sudden splurt! broke the rhythm, a thick flood of Lyan’s seed filling Sigrid’s mouth, her cheeks bulging as she swallowed every drop, her throat working with a gulp gulp that echoed in the quiet. So much, Arielle thought, her own body tingling with the memory of his release inside her, the plug holding it close. Sigrid pulled back, her lips glistening, her blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That felt so good, Lyan," she said, her voice husky, then softer, reverent. "No, My Lord Husband."

The words hit Arielle like a spark, her arousal flaring despite the pang in her chest. Lord Husband, she thought, her mind reeling. The mountain women, sent as tributes to Lyan’s keep, carried a promise of marriage, their devotion to him a living thing. They’re his, too, she thought, her heart twisting with a mix of jealousy and longing. He promised to marry them all, and they love him like I do. But the sight of Sigrid’s satisfaction, the way her muscular frame relaxed, her blonde ponytail splayed across the grass, stirred something deeper in Arielle—a reckless, burning desire to be part of this, to share in their fire.

Lyan’s hand cupped Sigrid’s face, his fingers tracing her square jaw as he leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. "Mmhh! Slrp!" The sounds were raw, their tongues clashing in a fierce dance, Sigrid’s lips parting eagerly as she pressed closer, her fur vest creaking. His hand slid to her chest, finding the firm curve of her breast, his fingers teasing the peak through her tunic with a pinch pinch that made her gasp, a soft mmh! escaping into their kiss. Arielle’s breath hitched, her thighs clenching as she watched, the plug a warm reminder of her own connection to him. He’s theirs, but he’s mine too, she thought, her arousal a wildfire that threatened to consume her.

Lara’s voice broke the moment, sharp and playful. "Chief Husband... us too..." she said, her green eyes flashing as she wriggled free from his arm, her red braid swinging. Tara nodded, her fair cheeks flushed, her thyme-scented hair tangled as she slipped out, her voice soft but insistent. "Don’t leave us out." Lyan’s laugh was a low rumble, his hands moving with a deliberate grace as he pulled Lara close, his lips claiming hers in a kiss that matched the intensity of Sigrid’s. "Mmhh! Slrp!" Their tongues danced, a wet, urgent slrp slrp that made Lara’s freckled nose crinkle, her lean frame pressing against him. His hand found her breast, smaller but firm, his fingers teasing with a pinch pinch that drew a mmh!

from her throat. Tara was next, her fair skin glowing as he kissed her deeply, the slrp slrp a hungry rhythm, his hand cupping her gentle curves, teasing her peak with a pinch pinch that made her gasp, her thyme-scented hair brushing his face.

Arielle watched, her heart pounding, her body alight with a mix of awe and desire. He makes sure none are left out, she thought, her scholar’s mind cataloging his care, his ability to balance their needs with a tenderness that felt like magic. Lara’s red braid caught the firelight, her freckled face flushed with delight. Tara’s fair skin shimmered, her thyme-adorned hair a soft contrast to her fierce kisses. Sigrid’s muscular frame was a tower of strength, her blonde ponytail splayed, her blue eyes warm with devotion. They’re so different, but he loves them all, Arielle thought, her heart aching with a wistful hope. And me. The crackle crackle of the fire, the tick tick of the acid ants, the slrp slrp of Lyan’s kisses—it all wove into a tapestry of passion and connection that made her want to step out, to join them, but her legs were heavy, her body still tethered to the day’s intensity.

Sigrid’s voice broke through, husky and pleading. "Please... me first," she said, her blue eyes locked on Lyan, her muscular frame leaning into him, her fur vest creaking as she pressed closer. Arielle’s breath caught, her heart racing as she watched, the plug a quiet pulse that kept her anchored to Lyan, to this moment, to the wildfire of their shared world.

Lyan stood in the clearing, his blade sheathed with a shink, his scar a silver thread catching the firelight. His dark eyes gleamed with a playful challenge as he faced the mountain women, their weapons discarded in a pile of clunk clunk and thud thud. "Sure," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through Arielle’s core, answering their earlier tease with a grin that promised mischief. The air hummed with anticipation, the tick tick of acid ants scuttling around the camp a faint backdrop to the women’s bright laughter.

Sigrid, her blonde ponytail splayed across the grass like a warrior’s banner, shifted to her hands and knees, her muscular frame a tower of strength even in this moment of surrender. Her fur-lined vest creaked with a creak creak as she moved, the leather taut against her broad shoulders, her blue eyes glinting with a fierce, untamed joy that seemed to challenge the stars themselves. Her fingers dug into the cool, loamy earth, the scrunch scrunch of soil yielding under her grip a testament to her power, her body braced yet yielding, a mountain bending to the wind. Lyan stepped behind her, his movements fluid, deliberate, like a river carving its course through stone. His thing, proud and unyielding, gleamed in the firelight, a warrior’s vow made flesh. He entered her cave smoothly, a deep, seamless motion that stretched her core, drawing a raw, thunderous moan from Sigrid’s throat—"AHHNNN!" The sound tore through the clearing, a primal cry that made the stars flicker, the slap slap of their joining crisp and rhythmic, a slap! slap! slap! that pulsed in time with the thud thud of Arielle’s heart, each impact a spark that set the night ablaze.

Arielle’s breath caught, her thighs clenching as the plug shifted within her, a warm pulse that echoed the heat flooding her core, a molten tide that threatened to drown her. She’s so alive, Arielle thought, her scholar’s hands trembling as she watched Sigrid’s muscular frame shudder, her blue eyes rolling back in a haze of pleasure, her lips parted in a silent hymn to the firelight. Sigrid’s body rocked with each thrust, her vest creaking, her ponytail swaying like a metronome, the scrunch scrunch of her fingers in the earth a desperate anchor to the world. The slap slap grew sharper, more insistent—Slap! Slap! SLAP! SLAP!—each sound a lightning bolt that seared Arielle’s nerves, her own fingers brushing her thigh, hesitating, then pressing against her cave through the damp silk of her undergarments. I shouldn’t, she thought, her scholar’s mind clinging to propriety, but the fire in her belly was relentless, a wildfire that demanded release. Her touch was a soft rustle rustle against the silk, a secret rhythm that matched Sigrid’s cries, her core throbbing with a need she couldn’t name, the plug a warm pulse that whispered Lyan, Lyan, Lyan.

Lara, her red braid swinging like a flame caught in a storm, leaned in, her freckled nose crinkling with mischief as she captured Lyan’s lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. Their tongues danced, a wet slrp slrp that Arielle could see from the tent’s shadow—the way Lara’s tongue curled, teasing the edge of his lips with a playful flick, then plunging deeper, a ravenous mmh! escaping her throat as she pressed closer, her lean frame arching like a bowstring drawn taut. Lyan’s hand found Lara’s cave, his fingers slipping inside with a shlick shlick that drew a sharp gasp—"Mmh!"

—her green eyes flashing with delight, her freckles stark against her flushed skin. His other hand roamed to Tara’s peak, curving over the gentle swell of her breast through her tunic, his fingers teasing the tip with a pinch pinch that made her fair cheeks bloom with color, her thyme-scented hair swaying as she moaned softly, "Ohh..." The scent of thyme mingled with the pine and smoke, a clean, green note that cut through the haze of Arielle’s senses, grounding her even as her core burned.

Tara, emboldened, tugged her tunic aside with a rustle rustle, offering her peak to Lyan’s lips, her fair skin glowing in the firelight like moonlit snow. His tongue swirled around the sensitive tip, a slow slrp slrp that made Tara’s breath hitch, her slender frame trembling as she pressed closer, her hands tangling in his hair with a rustle rustle that echoed the wind through the pines. The firelight caught her brown eyes, half-closed in bliss, the snap snap of the flames a faint echo of her soft cries—"Mmm..."—each sound a thread in the tapestry of desire weaving around them. Arielle’s fingers pressed harder against her own cave, the rustle rustle of silk a quiet rebellion as she watched, her core throbbing with a need that felt like a storm breaking. They’re so free, she thought, envy and awe twisting in her chest like vines. Lara’s fierce kisses, Tara’s delicate surrender, Sigrid’s wild moans—it was a symphony of passion, and Arielle was both outside it and part of it, her own touch a tentative shlick shlick that sent sparks through her, the plug pulsing in time with her racing heart.

Sigrid’s cries grew louder, a beastly roar that shook the night—"MORE! MORE! MORE! AHNN! MY CHIEF! MY HUSBAND! FILL ME!" Her voice was raw, untamed, a warrior’s hymn that drowned out the crackle crackle of the fire, the tick tick of the acid ants fading into the background. The slap! slap! SLAP! SLAP! was a relentless drumbeat, each thrust sharper, crisper, the quelch quelch of their joining a wet, primal pulse that reverberated through the clearing, a song of earth and fire. Sigrid’s muscular frame rocked harder, her vest creaking with a creak creak, her fingers clawing the earth with a scrunch scrunch, her blue eyes lost in a haze of ecstasy, her lips parted in a silent scream. Arielle’s heart raced, her fingers moving faster, the shlick shlick of her own cave a secret echo of Sigrid’s pleasure, her arousal a wildfire that threatened to consume her. They’re all his, she thought, her core tightening as the plug pulsed, a warm anchor in the storm of her desire. And I’m his too.

Lara’s kisses grew fiercer, her slrp slrp a hungry rhythm as she sucked at Lyan’s tongue, her green eyes glinting with a hunter’s fire, her red braid swaying like a comet’s tail. Lyan’s fingers moved deeper in her cave, the shlick shlick drawing sharp "Mmh!" gasps, her lean frame trembling as she pressed against him, her freckles a constellation against her flushed skin. Tara’s moans were softer, a delicate "Ohh..." as Lyan’s lips worked her peak, his slrp slrp a slow, teasing dance that made her thighs quiver, her thyme-scented hair brushing his cheek with a rustle rustle. Arielle’s touch was bolder now, her shlick shlick a desperate rhythm, her core aching with a need that felt like a tide pulling her under. I want to be there, she thought, her scholar’s mind crumbling under the weight of desire, her fingers tracing the damp silk, the plug a warm pulse that whispered his name. The snap snap of the fire, the hiss hiss of the coals, the tick tick of the ants—it all blurred into the slap slap and quelch quelch, a primal symphony that set her nerves alight.

Sigrid’s body tensed, her muscular frame shuddering as she reached her climax, a raw "AHHHNNN!"