“Later. We have two days. I’ll make you beg. I’ll give you everything you want.”
“Maurice. Fuck me.”
He lifts his head, eyes dark and frantic, and before I can say anything else, he is digging through the bedside table to find what he needs. I kiss his shoulder, down his chest, and he swears when I suck on one nipple, his entire body shaking at the first touch.
I like that. That he is as desperate as I am has me on more of an even keel. My hands map paths over his thighs, his hips, and he growls when I take hold of his cock, feeling it thicken in my hand.
When I move to wriggle lower, to taste him, Maurice growls and pushes me back against the mattress. The lube I keep in there but hardly use lands next to my head, and I reach for that, but he catches my wrists and holds me still.
“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”
“Isn’t that why I had a bodyguard in the first place?”
“No. It’s why youneededone, but no one knew that about you.”
“Are you going to talk all day?”
Maurice arches an eyebrow. “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t realise I was boring you.”
“Maurice…” My whine is pitiful, but that only makes him smile. He knows what I mean. What I want. I don’t want to wait all day for it.
“I’ll give you what you need. All of it. Just be patient.”
I grumble because I don’t want to do that at all, but when he lets go of my wrists, I keep my hands where they are, and it’s worth it for the dark, hungry look that flashes over his face.
“That’s it,” he says and snatches up the lube. “Now you’re getting it.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Maurice
Hasthereeverbeena more glorious banquet laid out before me than this? I hardly know where to begin. Njáll wants me to fuck him, of course, and though he’s putting in an admirable effort to keep his arms where I put them, his hips twitch beneath mine, the muscles in his thighs already trembling.
I want to take my time. I want him as much as he wants me—perhaps even more, but who can tell—but I also want to drive him out of his mind. Two days. The clock is already ticking, and when we are done, I want to be seared on him, inside and out.
No job will keep me away for long. I will ensure it. His duties will not force us apart, either. If a high fae bent on taking over this realm could not do it…
Njáll stretches up, arching his back, and I rub one hand over the centre of his chest. His heart. He meant it. All of him is mine.
All of me is his.
I kiss him again before I unfasten the lube, and he shifts beneath me in anticipation. The way in is tight, Njáll hissing through his teeth as I push one slick finger inside. I bite back my own moan.
“More,” Njáll says, too quickly, but we know our own limits, and he groans more loudly at the burn I assume he feels. His cock rests hard and heavy against his stomach. I tease it with a featherlight touch, slowly stretching him open at the same time with my other hand.
“Do you want to come like this?”
“No. I want you inside of me.”
“I am,” I say and push my two fingers deeper. It’s worth it for the way his mouth falls open, his next breath a desperate pant. “Is this not good enough?”
“You’re a prick, Maurice.” Njáll laughs, and I lower my head to bite the inside of his thigh.
“That’s what you want.”
His lips twitch again. I laugh this time, tossing my head back with it, and when I look at him again, his expression is soft and fond.
“Yes, it is.” He reaches for me, threading our fingers together, and I lean over him as I continue to stretch him open. He doesn’t wince at the third finger—he groans and pushes back against me—and I let my own arousal wash over me, giving in to what we both want.
