My hand slides his silk robes up his thighs, baring him to me. I’m pure instinct now. I need to take. To claim. To possess. My fingers go to his hole and find a plug. A deep growl rumbles out of me.
I tease it out while he writhes and whimpers and never once breaks the kiss. I throw the plug over my shoulder. He is oiled and open. He wants me. The knowledge is turning me feral.
I notch my cock against his entrance. He keens and arches. My heart is beating hard. Slowly, I push into him. His body yields. It opens for me. Allows me into the silken heat of him.
He is gasping and moaning now. Trying to thrash in pleasure, but I’m holding him still with one hand on his hip. He is so frantic he might hurt himself. Slowly, I keep easing in. Deeper and deeper. Making sure he is ready, but being as swift as possible. He feels divine and I need to be all the way in.
Finally, I’m buried as deep as I can go. He takes me so well. Like he was made for me. He cries out again and his inner muscles clench around me. I groan and my vision fades. Mabon is consuming all my senses. I feel only him. Hear only him. His exquisite scent is the only thing filling my lungs. The taste of him is flooding my mouth. He is everywhere and everything.
My hips take up a slow, steady rhythm. Sensuous and primal. It’s beautiful. Euphoric. And it is going to end far too soon. It’s too perfect, too sublime. My orgasm is already building and building. I’m trying to fight it but it’s like trying to hold back the tide.
Mabon wails. He bucks. His hole tightens around me and quivers. He is cumming. Coming undone in my arms and riding waves of ecstasy.
It’s too much. It triggers my own peak. I yell as sheer rapture surges through me. My hips thrust deep and hold still. My cock throbs as I pump cum into Mabon’s insides.
The next thing I know, I’m lying breathless beside him. All my nerve endings zinging and zapping with pleasure. My muscles twitching with aftershocks.
That was fast. Passionate and frantic. Desperate even. Extremely intense. I have never been so overwhelmed.
“Is the human way always like that?” he asks softly. In a voice that sounds far too small to be his.
My heart constricts. My lungs stutter. My stomach does something strange. If he had punched me in the face, it would have had less of a visceral effect. It is not the first time we have had sex, but it was the first time he allowed me to lead.
“Not always,” I hear myself say. “Sometimes,” I correct hastily. “Most of the time,” I add.
I feel too scrubbed raw. My emotions are all laid bare. I need shields. Protection. And distance. I can’t let Mabon in until I’vefigured out what the hell is going on. And what it means. And what I should do about it.
“Wow,” Mabon says quietly.
Another punch. This one in the gut. And now I want to scream and grab a hold of him and tell him that it is never like that. Not ever. Not with anyone.
But I don’t. I just lie here in the dark and try to catch my breath.
Chapter fifteen
“Can you ride?” asks Mabon. “Horses, I mean.”
I turn away from admiring the freshly fallen snow through the window, and face him. My hand has paused half-way to my mouth with yet another delicious blood red grape. I’m going to ignore his crude innuendo and address the other problem with his question.
“I’m a Londoner,” I say.
He stares at me blankly. As if being a Londoner means nothing.
I sigh. “City boy, born and bred.”
A small frown mars his perfect features. Then he smiles. “Oh! You can ride pillion!”
It’s my turn to stare blankly. He sees my look and shakes his head in exasperation.
“You can sit behind me in the saddle,” he explains.
I’m not sure I like the sound of this.
“Why?” I ask.
Mabon claps his hands together in glee. His bracelets jangle and his purple eyes sparkle. “The Wild Hunt is riding!”
Now I know for sure that I don’t like the sound of this. I pop my nearly forgotten grape into my mouth and try not to let dread completely consume me.
