Chapter 63 Against The Thin Canvas Of The Tend

• Nicholette settled into a slow, deep rhythm, gliding down Theobald’s length in firm, claiming strokes, all the way down to the hilt, and in each rise a lingering tease that made his breath falter in anticipation. The tent seemed to shrink to the size of their bodies as the rasp of linen and the quick scrape of a buckle against the mat, denounced their activity. They could hear murmurs outside, but that wouldn't stop them.
• “Easy, Nyx…” He whispered, though the word trembled. His hands cupped her hips, unsure if he could hold her tight. “Tell me where it hurts and I will not go there.”
• “It hurts when you stop.” She murmured, and rolled her hips with deliberate cruelty.