Page 27 of The Rake and the Cake

Aisling’s gaze dropped to Brook’s chest, then her waist, then lower still. “Me too.”

“What were we waiting for?” Brook wondered.

“What was I waiting for you mean?” Aisling raised an eyebrow, untucking her flowy shirt.

“Yes, now you mention it. I haven’t been very subtle, have I?”

“I needed to focus,” Aisling said. “And I said, no more talking.”

Brook laughed and tore off her other boot, then started on the straps holding her leathers together. Again, she fumbled as Aisling tugged off her skirt then stepped out of the puddle of it, tail lashing, then picking it up and pushing it out of her way. Her legs were so pale and pink, like jewelberry cream, that Brook’s mouth began to water.

Aisling knelt on the bed, her shirt pooling around her knees, and settled her hands against her thighs.

Distractedly, Brook jerked free of her own straps; she couldn’t take her eyes off the picture Aisling made with her auburn curls rushing over her freckled shoulders. Her tits were a masterpiece, full and luscious, the pink tips hard against the soft fabric of the shirt. They looked incredible with the corseted belt cinching everything up, yes, but like this, they were absolutely irresistible.

Brook gave up on her own clothes and leaned over to kiss Aisling’s shoulder, hands searching. She slid one over the shirt, pressing into the softness of Aisling’s belly, then cupping one pretty tit. She ran a thumb over the nip through the fabric, and Aisling gave a little gasp into her ear.

The sound thrilled her almost as much as feeling Aisling up at long last did, truth be told. Still, she had to ask, “Is this okay?”

Aisling giggled—yes, she giggled. “It’s very okay.”

Brook smiled and kissed her way up Aisling’s neck, giving her a gentle squeeze for good measure. “I know, no talking, but—”

“No talking except about what we want. Right here, right now,” Aisling amended.

“Good. Because I like to talk about that.” Brook said against the shell of Aisling’s ear. She bit at her earlobe gently, ran her thumb over the hard nipple through the shirt, and felt it grow harder still. “And I love your tits.”

She kissed her way back down Aisling’s neck and collar bone, licking in the curve of it to taste her sweat and flour and sugar. Aisling’s fingers worked on Brook’s straps in the meantime, little sighs escaping her every time Brook’s mouth found a new spot to kiss or suck, down, down until the untidy shirt finally got in the way.

Brook’s straps fell away, and she wriggled out of them quickly. She and Aisling came back together and fell into the bed, stretching out front-to-front until they snapped together like puzzle pieces. Aisling’s fingers continued their work on Brook’s belt now, and Brook ran her fingertips over the curve of Aisling’s side, all the way up to her armpit, and then back down again beneath the shirt.

Aisling giggled again. “Tickles.”

“In a good way?”

“Mmm-hmm.” The reply was hummed into Brook’s lips.

They kissed and touched, mapping curves and lines and skin with fingers and lips, each inch a new discovery. They peeled off what remained of Brook’s clothes, leaving her bare in the glowing tent, one of her legs between Aisling’s. Aisling rocked against her, so the heat and wet between her legs soaked through her smalls into Brook’s thigh. Brook pushed Aisling’s shirt upwards.

Aisling hesitated.

Brook stopped. “Okay?”

Aisling nodded. “I just. You’re very… beautiful. And elegant. You look—well, you look like a noble. All long-limbed and strong and…”

“Me?” Brook snorted out a laugh but tempered it with a gentle smile. “Aisling, since the moment I first noticed you, I knew I wanted to spend my nights buried between your magnificent thighs, I assure you. And now that I can feel you for myself…” She ran her hand down Aisling’s side again, over her hip, and tugged at the waistband of her smalls. “If you want to keep the shirt on, of course you should. But you are the most beautiful elf in the room right now. And always.”

Aisling laughed. “You are far too good at sweet talk.”

“Only with proper inspiration,” Brook said. It wasn’t even a lie; she hadn’t said a word tonight that she hadn’t meant with her entire heart. She pressed her lips against Aisling’s ear once more and whispered, “I want you. You know I do.”

Aisling pulled away, and for a moment Brook thought she’d ruined everything. But then Aisling whipped off her shirt and untied her smalls, then climbed on top of Brook’s lap to straddle it.

Brook pushed herself up on both hands, crossing her legs at the ankles so Aisling’s round backside could sit between them. She grabbed her ass and pulled her forward, so the crooked, wet smallclothes went further askew, and Aisling could wrap her legs around Brook’s waist.

Now this was the angle for a proper make-out. It set Aisling up a little higher, and it let Brook hold onto her ass with one hand and feel her up with the other. Aisling squeezed tight around her, tilting to get a deeper angle on their kiss, and rocked her hips to rub herself against Brook’s belly.

Aisling wanted her, too, that much was finally clear. Maybe it was the relief of the first competition being over, maybe it was the freedom of not having her parents breathing down her neck, maybe it was just a random and inescapable bout of horniness that Brook happened to be there for—but Brook was both in awe of the perfect body in her lap and the brilliant mind that moved it. Brook was going to fuck her so good, Aisling would have no choice but to relax, to put herself in Brook’s hands, and to just let herself be appreciated like she deserved.