Mabon’s eyes narrow. Amethyst glows as they blaze in fury. “You gave me a braid!”
He whirls and picks up the ceramic box holding the sachets of instant coffees and tea, and he throws it against the wall where it smashes into pieces.
Fucking hell! The last thing we need is the hotel calling the police. I rush up to Mabon and push him against the wall before he can do any more damage. I can’t believe he is having a full on strop because I won’t sleep with him. He is acting like a toddler denied treats. But then again, this is Mabon. I shouldn’t be surprised.
He glares at me. His chest is heaving, and rage is burning in his eyes. As I glare back, I begin to see other emotions swirling in the purple depths of his eyes. Hurt. Rejection. Grief.
Suddenly, his hands lift up and grab my face. He yanks me to him and smashes my lips against his. His kiss is clumsy. Unpracticed. Desperate. Needy. Frantic.
He releases me. I rest my forehead against his. We are both breathless now.
“Please,” he whispers.
My heart clenches so painfully it feels like I’m dying. Surely I’m too young to have a heart attack? This is precisely why I can’t say yes. This is why I can’t give in. Weakly, I shake my head.
Mabon’s eyes fill with dismay. “Jamie is a liar! It is not a magic word and it doesn’t work!”
“You’ve never said please before?”
“I’m a prince!”
Mabon lets out a little growl and shoves me roughly aside with a strength that lets me know I was never really holding him at all.
I hear the bed creak as he throws himself onto it. I draw in several gasping breaths and then turn around.
Mabon is sprawled on his back on the bed, legs spread wide. Two fingers teasing at his hole.
I stagger back against the wall as a gurgling noise bubbles out of my throat. I watch helplessly as Mabon pauses briefly to pour oil onto his fingers. Then he pushes them into himself. He lets out a little moan. His fingers start to slide in and out.
“I thought that didn’t work?” I rasp.
“It doesn’t!” he snaps. “But I need something.”
He continues to work his fingers. His cock is full and leaking. Little whimpers spill out of him.
“Mabon, stop it.”
“No!” he gasps.
Such a spoilt little brat. This is probably the first time anyone has ever told him no.
My lungs hitch painfully. I’m being unfair. He can’t help his upbringing. He didn’t choose to be born a prince. And while he may have never been told no before, I know damn well he doesn’t always get to say it. He couldn’t tell Lord Gwydion no. No, did not work with the Resistance. I don’t know if last night was a true choice or something he believed he had to do. Andthere must have been a thousand other instances across his lifetime.
My stomach rolls as my mind replays the look in his eyes just now. That was unmistakable pain. Rejection and grief. And the way he kissed me? My fingers trace over my lips. I could taste his desperation.
Oh lord. What if he is not having a strop over not getting his own way? What if he is not being a brat, and is actually hurt by my rejection? What if he is not just horny but actually has feelings for me?
My heart goes crazy. Mabon is writhing on the bed now. His hips are lifting. His face is all flushed. He looks so very desperate. He can’t get there on his own and that has to be a hell of a torment.
My feet carry me over to the bed. My body lies down next to his. He said please. He gave me, Blake Robinson, his first ever please.
His amethyst eyes fix onto me. Dark and hazy with lust, but also filled with so much pain and fear. Loneliness and longing.
Gently, I pull his hand away. He whimpers. Carefully, I ease two of my fingers into his tight, wet heat. His beautiful eyes flutter closed. His head tilts back. He makes a noise of pure, thankful, grateful relief.
I work my fingers in and out of him. The euphoria on his face is awe-inspiring. His back arches. He fucks himself on my fingers. Exulting in my touch. Enjoying me. Elated by my presence.
I’m the one doing this to him. Me. I’m the one filling him with intense pleasure. I’m the one he wanted. I’m who he chose. Me.
