It wasn’t a question. That look was back in her eyes. Consuming. Madeleine could only whimper in response before it.

“Yes,” Hæra breathed. She looked between Madeleine’s legs, at the thatch of dark hair and her own pale hand. “That’s right. You were made for my mouth from the start.”

And she slid back, lay over Madeleine’s spread legs, bent her head, and devoured.

Madeleine cried out, high-pitched and helpless. It wasn’t like fingers. Hæra’s mouth was warmer and softer, her tongue was wetter, and it seemed to be everywhere at once. She licked Madeleine into swelling, sparing no time for tenderness—only starvation.

Who was making those noises? It couldn’t be Madeleine herself, not those abandoned cries that echoed off the cottage’s stone walls. She wanted to spread her legs wider, and she couldn’t, and somehow that deepened the ache even more. Her hips rolled until Hæra grabbed them. Those strong hands kept her from moving, chasing Hæra’s lips and tongue. She could only take what Hæra gave her.

Take it, and take it, and take it some more. Hæra licked, sucked, and kissed her until Madeleine heard wet noises. That was her. By now she was so wet that Hæra’s face was sliding against her. Her flesh was swollen, practically pulsing.

Hæra had done this in her dream too, all those weeks ago. She’d taken her time, licking leisurely, tormenting Madeleine. She’d been in full control of herself.

Not this time. Hæra licked Madeleine like someone who’d starved for eons and wasn’t about to let a feast escape. She growled against Madeleine’s soaked flesh, made guttural sounds of savoring.

Madeleine sobbed. Her back arched as high as it could. She couldn’t help herself. Women did this to each other…all her life she’d yearned, and now…

She grabbed Hæra’s head and dug her fingers into her hair. The fire had warmed that too, and it was soft and fine in Madeleine’s hands as she held Hæra’s face against her. Her hips rose and fell like waves, and Hæra’s grip tightened even more. She found Madeleine’s clitoris again.

With her tongue this time.

“Oh God,” Madeleine gasped.

Hæra began to lick her there, directly, hungry and quick.

“Oh God. G-god…”

Hæra went faster. Madeleine’s flesh was so sensitive. It almost hurt, almost, the pleasure and pain at once, she couldn’t do without both, she was pulling Hæra’s hair now, she was gasping—rising—oh, it was too much, she couldn’t take it, surely she couldn’t⁠—

Hæra folded her lips around Madeleine’s aching clitoris and began, relentlessly, to suck.

“Oh God!”