16. Avery

Avery straightened and skimmed Cricket’s face, taking in the wild, crazed look in her eyes. The erect ears and the uneven breaths. The trembling in her fingers as she gripped her arm.

Something like power thrummed in her veins—power and pride that she’d been able to do this to the bold faun. That she’d been able to wring such a confession out of her with touch alone. The realization had her inching closer, bringing her lips to Cricket’s throat. The faun tensed as if she feared any further movement would have Avery retreating. The thought made her smile, and she breathed her next words against her throat, right where soft down faded to warm skin.

“You’re not a monster.”

“Gods.” Cricket’s hand shot up, cradling the back of her head, those long fingers working into her braid and tugging. Avery grinned outright, twisting and bringing her knee up onto the bed. Her skirt tangled in her legs, pinching her waist. She begrudgingly pulled away, tugging at her skirt and pinning the fabric to the mattress with her knee.

“Take it off,” Cricket demanded in that husky, raspy voice. “You hate it so much; take it off.”

“I’m not supposed to.”

“Fuck ‘supposed to’.” She reached forward and tugged the skirt low, revealing the black lycra bike shorts Avery wore beneath. A slow smile stretched across Cricket’s face. The sweet little split in her upper lip widened as her eyes drank in Avery’s thighs. She gripped one, squeezing soft thickness, and licked her lips. “So much better.”

A flurry set off in her belly at the hungry way Cricket looked at her. She had forgone the bandeau bra, and her nipples were peaked beneath her shirt—another modified muscle tank in heather gray with a screen-printed image of a naked woman adorned in flowers beneath the words Lilith Fair. The urge to take one in her mouth and suck until Cricket cried out was overwhelming.

So she gave in.

Kicking her skirt off the rest of the way, she cupped Cricket’s cheeks, hauling her into a kiss. She straddled her lean legs with all the freedom of movement the shorts allowed and eased Cricket onto her back. She went all too willingly, pliant and submissive in Avery’s hands. It was exhilarating and dizzying being given this much control over someone, and the heady rush of power lent her a confidence she would normally lack.

She’d been with girls, she’d had hook-ups and a secret girlfriend in college, but she’d never had anyone like Cricket. The girls at Messiah had all been raised like Avery. There was a comfort in knowing her partner struggled with the same guilty hang-ups as her: that she was a disappointment. That something was wrong with her, or that this was only a passing phase. But the comfort always turned to apprehension and frustration. She wanted to be with someone who would hold her hand in public. Someone who was confident in themselves and their desires.

Someone like Cricket with her wild curls and wide, deep eyes like wells that Avery felt she could fall into and never hit bottom.

She tasted of vanilla and honey, faint spice, and a slight nuttiness that had Avery plunging her tongue deeper, sweeping along Cricket’s broad, flat tongue as if she could drink the taste. Her hands traveled from her cheeks to her shoulders, down the length of Cricket’s lean waist, and up again. She wanted to gather the faun to herself, wanted to hold her entirely, and never let go.

It was impossible to kiss her deep enough, impossible to forget the sensation of her tongue. It wasn’t slick like a human’s, but textured, the slight scrape and subtle grip on Avery’s tongue setting alight nerve endings she didn’t know she had.

Cricket kneaded her thighs as they kissed, her hips rocking, seeking out pressure and friction. Tiny whimpers lodged in her throat, the hardened tips of her nipples teasing Avery through her shirt. She broke their kiss and straightened, ripping her t-shirt over her head and tossing it across the room. Cricket went still, her gaze caught on Avery’s chest. Her own nipples were hard, poking the thin cotton of her un-lined bra, and though she wasn’t wholly on display, she felt vulnerable beneath the faun’s intent stare. She started to cross her arms, and Cricket’s hands shot up, seizing her wrists and guiding Avery’s hands back to her.

“Don’t.” She shook her head, blond curls bouncing against the pillows. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m sorry I’m not—”

“You’re perfect.” She released Avery’s wrists and cupped her breasts, sighing happily. “So pink and soft and Gods, these breasts.”

Cricket arced forward, capturing Avery’s nipple in her mouth. Even through the cotton, the feel of her sucking sent a jolt of pleasure through her bones. One hand flew to the back of Cricket’s head, while the other drove between them. She yanked the muscle tank aside, baring Cricket’s breast and pinching the nipple. The faun gave a muffled shout and snagged Avery with her teeth. The flash of pain and soothing stroke of Cricket’s tongue had her head dropping back. She gasped, writhing and panting as Cricket tugged her bra cup down and laved her nipple.

“Oh, Cricket.” Heat like melted chocolate puddled in her groin. Her pussy clenched, seeking to satiate the dull, demanding throbbing.

“I’ve got you,” the faun whispered into her flesh, sucking and rolling Avery’s nipple between her lips. Soft fingers stroked the swell of her breasts, teasing the band of her bra. A pinch and a pull, and the garment fell away, the heft of her breasts caught in those same hands. Cricket moved to Avery’s other nipple, wringing gasp after gasp from her lips until she was panting and rolling her hips, seeking something, anything, that would soothe the rising ache.

Cricket crooked her leg, and Avery’s gasp became a strangled moan as delicious, delicious friction met her throbbing pussy.

“Oh, oh gosh.”

“That’s it, sweet girl,” Cricket murmured. She circled one soft thumb against a nipple, speaking directly into the other. Her words vibrated through sensitive flesh, clenching Avery’s belly. She clung to the faun, nails digging into the soft, tightly grown fur at her shoulders. It was too much, all of this attention, this worship of her breasts too much. She was going to combust, and Cricket gave too much.

With a tiny snarl, she pushed the faun away, shoving her hands under the hem of her shirt and dragging it up. Small, pert breasts waited for her, their nipples a dusky brown and tightened to enticing buds. She spread her fingers wide, her pianist’s reach allowing thumb and little finger to tease both nubs. Cricket shivered at that first brush, and a tiny bleat escaped as Avery trailed her fingers further.

Four more nipples lined her torso, two on either side, tight against her toned body but no less sensitive. She’d felt them the night before, a quiet wondering she’d had answered by the little ridges her fingers had explored in the dark. But now, seeing the faun stretched out beneath her in a lighted room, Avery could barely breathe.

She was stunning and wild, other and so achingly familiar. Each tweak and pinch, each gentle circle, had Cricket writhing in pleasure, her chest rising and falling in deep, panting heaves. Narrow hips rose, seeking more touch, more of Avery, and she was all too happy to comply.

Bending low, she snagged the tip of one of an ear in her teeth, a pinch and nibble. Nothing more.

Cricket cried out, hands clasping Avery’s rear as though she needed to hold onto something steady to keep from flying off the bed. “Oh, Gods,” she panted, her breath hot against Avery’s shoulder. “Oak and fucking ivy, Aves.”

“Aves,” she murmured into the sensitive down, running her lips down the length of an ear as she pinched, plucked, and teased those nipples. Cricket’s body trembled beneath her, and her hands were everywhere. On Avery’s rear, her waist, skimming her soft sides and tugging on the end of her braid.

There was a harder tug, followed by softer ones, and Cricket hummed in a way that sounded victorious. Avery glanced down to ask what she was so proud of when her hair came cascading free from its braid. Cricket sighed, running her fingers through the mass and smiling at Avery.

“Like fox-fur,” she whispered, her tone full of awe. She closed her hand into a light fist, wound Avery’s hair around her wrist, and pulled. Another flash of pain was subsumed by a hot rush of pleasure as Cricket took her breast into her mouth, resuming the laving and sucking that had driven Avery to the brink before.

The throbbing in her pussy went from almost forgotten to all-consuming, and the only thought in her head was to make Cricket feel as good as this. To feel as worshipped and wanted and so full of desire that all else left that pretty, complicated mind of hers.

She drove her hand between them, cupping Cricket and smiling at the damp warmth that met her hand. The faun gasped, her punishing licks stopping long enough to tell Avery she was on the right path to what she desired: Cricket writhing with pleasure from her touch.

She curled her fingers, circling the apex of Cricket’s thighs and smiling when the faun let out a needy whine. “May I?”

“Gods, yes.” She pressed against Avery’s hand, a desperate note entering her breathy voice. “Please, Aves.”

“Aves.” She dragged her fingernails up the front of the bike shorts and along the hem. “I like that.”

“Good, great,” Cricket panted. “Aves. Aves, Aves, Aves, sweet girl, baby girl, please.”

“Need something?” Cocking her head, Avery bit her lower lip and played the coquette. She could get used to this submissive, needy version of Cricket begging for her touch. Slipping her index finger between the band and Cricket’s hipbones, she drew a light line and let the elastic snap against her down. Cricket hissed, eyes flashing, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she raised her hips to lift her rear off the bed and cocked her head in question.

Avery was no fool. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of the bike shorts and tugged them low, revealing a lightly furred torso, the tawny down darkening to a dusty brown at the juncture of slim, elegant thighs. Cricket kept still, and it was only when the silence stretched between them that Avery glanced up to find the faun watching her closely. Her breaths were tiny and tight, her eyes hooded but intent on Avery, and her hair was a wild, wanton mess spread across the pillows. She looked—

“Beautiful,” Avery whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I—” She silenced whatever Cricket had been about to say with the sweep of a finger through damp fur. A nub met her touch, and Cricket cried out when she circled it. Whatever tension the faun had held, whatever apprehension had had her looking at Avery in such a way, vanished. She melted into the bedspread, tight, tiny mewls forcing their way from her throat. And she looked so painfully lovely.

Avery bent low, taking one pert breast into her mouth as she split Cricket’s lips, mind reeling at the heat of the faun. The slick damp that seemed to suck her finger in.

“Like that,” Cricket panted, rocking into Avery’s finger. “Oak and ivy, like that, Aves.”

Crooking her finger, she angled her wrist, seeking and finding that soft, spongy place so similar to her own. She cupped Cricket’s ear, stroking the tip as she stroked her pussy. Winding the faun tighter and tighter, suckling, licking, nibbling, stroking.

That lean body trembled beneath her, breathless cries squeezing from her throat. Her thighs clamped around Avery’s hand, delicate muscles in that hot, slick channel tightening.There was a wonder in seeing her brought to the very edge. In seeing Cricket coming undone before her very eyes. Gone was the cranky, bossy faun, replaced by the most beautiful creature Avery had ever seen, made powerless by her touch. It was addicting, and already, as Cricket gasped and panted her name, muscles twitching, nostrils flaring, Avery wanted more.

She slid a second finger in, bringing her palm flush with Cricket’s clit, and with the nails of her other hand, she lightly scraped them down the rim of her ear.

The faun jolted, tensed, and came with a bleating cry. She grabbed Avery’s arms, half holding her hand where it was, half pushing her away, crying, “Gods, Gods, oak and fucking ivy.”

Quiet whimpers followed. Her legs fell away, and her body went utterly liquid, seeping into the mattress as Cricket gazed at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

“Oak and Ivy, Aves.”

“You said that already.” She grinned and slid her fingers away, wiping them on her discarded skirt.

Cricket stroked one of Avery’s thighs, squirming against the pillows to better address Avery. “Where in the hells did you learn to do that?”

“I played softball.” She winked and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You do the math.”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.” She grabbed Avery’s other thigh and squeezed both, gaze dropping to her breasts still on display. In an instant, the languid, sated Cricket was gone. Mischief glinted in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth kicked up. “My turn.”

She slipped her hands around and under Avery’s legs. Before she could react, Cricket flipped her onto her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders. The ease with which she hoisted Avery and tossed her onto her back sent her mind reeling. For all the submissiveness, for all the power Avery had felt in making Cricket melt beneath her hands, at any moment, she could have turned the tables. Could have pinned Avery to the mattress and taken the lead. But she didn’t, giving that space to Avery, who had taken it and run headlong into a borrowed confidence.

The realization was glorious. It was freeing, unfettering the bonds Avery had fought against from the day she realized she wasn’t watching Xena: Warrior Princess for the fun mythology. She could have this; she could do this. She was with someone like her—no, not just someone.

Cricket.

Cricket, who let Avery lead when she could easily take the reins. Cricket, who melted beneath her fingers just as easily as she tossed Avery onto the bed. Cricket, with Avery’s legs on her shoulders, Avery’s rear against her chest, and Avery’s pussy …

“Oh, Aves,” Cricket sighed, closing her eyes and inhaling. “You smell so dang good.”

She inhaled again, chest rising beneath Avery’s backside, and exhaled with a warm sigh that fizzed straight from cunt to crown.

“Oh, oh my …” Fire blazed in her core as Cricket nuzzled and nipped the lycra, teasing Avery’s clit through her shorts.

“Strawberries, cream, and salt, fuck.” Cricket tugged the waistband of her shorts. Cool air kissed Avery’s backside, raising goosebumps on her arms and belly. “I have to taste you Aves, please.” One leg was bent, and Cricket’s dextrous fingers slid the shorts and her panties away, leaving them dangling from a calf. “Please, sweet girl, say I can taste you.” She hoisted Avery’s knee back to her shoulder, kissing her calf, the inside of her thigh. “I need you on my tongue, you smell so fucking good.”

“Yes,” Avery breathed, arching her back and bringing her pussy closer to Cricket’s mouth. She reached for the faun, wanting to tease those lovely ears, play with her breasts, touch her, hold her, weld their bones together. “Yes, Cricket.”

“I love when you say my name like that.” Teeth nipped her inner thigh, the ticklish pain mixing with the ache in her core. Avery squealed, shivering in pleasure as that broad flat tongue swept her center.

Cricket rumbled, tightening her grip on Avery’s thighs and driving her tongue deep. It was unlike anything she had ever felt. Deep and penetrating, warm and writhing.

“Oh, gosh.” The moist tip of Cricket’s nose rubbed her clit; lips teased her folds and that tongue. Avery’s belly flipped, and heat shot through her extremities, building as a pressure in her chest and her throat, finally escaping as a deep moan. The sound urged Cricket on. Her pace quickened, and tingles built in Avery’s fingers and toes. Her breaths came in quick, tiny pants she couldn’t control, and her hips had a mind of their own. Rocking and thrusting as if she could bury Cricket deeper in her pussy.

Distantly, she was aware of the call for lights out echoing through the camp. Distantly, a howl broke from deep in the woods. But there was only this room, only this bed. Only this faun.

Only Cricket.

She withdrew her tongue to suck on Avery’s clit, wringing a tight mewl from her lips before driving deep once more. Licking and rolling, sucking and nibbling and humming. The buzz shot into her core, white spots danced in the corners of her eyes, and Avery was beyond words. Mindless in a sea of sensations too big for her body.

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. She was nothing but pure pleasure riding along the edge of a towering peak. Her hands shot into Cricket’s hair, fumbling at her ears as the faun rocked against her. A hand cupped Avery’s breast, the other disappearing between her legs and—

“Oh!” Avery’s eyes flew wide as a finger joined Cricket’s tongue. And another. Two of those gloriously long fingers crooked and stroked, masterfully scoring a place she could barely reach. “Oh my …”

Her vision blurred, whiting out at the edges. Her bones felt like they were ready to shatter, her body wound so tight, so tight that there would be no surviving the mounting pressure if she didn”t release. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t—

Cricket hummed again, her fingers crooking just so, and Avery shattered. Her back bowed, eyes flying wide as she screamed, “Oh, my God!”

Wave after wave of utterly divine pleasure lapped at her body, her pussy clenching and releasing around Cricket’s fingers and tongue as the faun lapped through her release. A low growl rumbled in Cricket’s throat, her ears shooting straight, and when Avery finally relaxed, liquid and sated with her legs wrapped around Cricket’s face, the faun hummed.

“Gods.” Her praise was a warm, humid exhale. She circled Avery’s ankle, easing one leg down and stretching her hands across her soft belly. “Oak and ivy, Aves, you’re amazing.”

“Me?” She huffed, unable to fully catch her breath. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah, well.” Cricket shrugged, catching Avery’s ankle as it slipped from her shoulder. She pulled the bike shorts and panties the rest of the way off, separating the pieces and faltering on the waistband of her pink, flower-dotted underwear. “Who is ‘Elizabeth’?”

“Huh?” Avery’s head was a cotton ball of fluff, thoughts forming and slipping away on the gentlest breeze. Cricket cocked her head and twisted the panties around, showing her the label sewn into the waistband. Her cheeks heated, then burned as Cricket’s eyes gleamed at the slow crawl of pink down her throat and onto her chest. “Oh, that’s, um, my name.”

“Your name isn’t Avery?”

“It is.” She pressed her elbows onto the mattress, starting to sit up. Cricket set her hand between her breasts, keeping her in place. “Elizabeth Avery Payne. Avery was my grandmother’s maiden name, my mom’s mom.”

“Ah.” She tossed the panties aside and crawled forward, setting her head between Avery’s breasts and nuzzling into her. “Well, it’s nice to eat you, Elizabeth Avery Payne.”

“Oh, my gosh.”