Mabon still thinks I don’t like him. He believes I’m not falling for him.
How can he think that? Why doesn’t he know? I betrayed the Resistance for him. I’ve thrown my life away for him. Does he really think I’m simply that nice of a person? That I did it purely out of a sense of justice?
But isn’t that exactly what I have been telling myself? More or less? I certainly haven’t admitted to myself just how deep my feelings for him go. I haven’t shown him. Or told him. And apparently, mind reading is not one of his many talents.
“I like you!” I cry out. “I really, really like you!”
Mabon freezes. His fingers become motionless. My hips try to move again. So close, I was so very close.
“Are you speaking the truth?” he asks breathlessly, with a hint of giddy excitement in his voice.
“Yes!” I rasp.
Mabon inhales sharply. “Well, you should! Because I am magnificent and beautiful!”
“Yes, yes you are,” I agree.
“I’m glad you have come to your senses.”
The words, ‘Me too,’ start to form on my lips but they never make it, because Mabon moves and suddenly my aching cock is enveloped in the tight wet heat of him. He has taken all of me and I’m somewhere down the back of his throat. I yell. He swallows around me. Soft flesh squeezes and undulates around my cock.
And I unravel. I explode. I fall undone.
My orgasm roars. It swells. It burns.
It lights up like a supernova painted in colours of joy and ecstasy.
It throws me into the dark. I’ve cum so hard I’m going to pass out, and my very last thought before the lights switch off completely, is that Mabon is going to be so insufferably smug about this.
Chapter thirty-three
Icy cold water shoots up my nose and fills my mouth. I’m coughing, spluttering and wheezing. I scramble up. It’s morning. I’m in the hotel room. Mabon is standing by the bed glaring at me. He has an empty cup in one hand and is holding up his loose hair with his other. His chest is bare and there is a towel slung low around his hips.
“Give me a braid.”
The little shit. But as I stare into his amethyst eyes, all my outrage and indignation drains away. This is extremely important to him. And I promised I would. Without him needing to have sex with me. Then I had sex with him.
I groan and rub the last droplets of water from my eyes. “Come here then.”
A look of profound relief flows over his face. He moves swiftly and sits in front of me, seemingly uncaring of the wet patch he created by chucking water all over me.
He hands me the shoelace, but keeps a hand in his hair, holding a fistful up.
“Mabon, you kind of need to let go of your hair if you want me to tie it up.”
He shudders. “It’s…It’s something only your one true love should see.”
His voice is small and agitated. All my insides twist. I haven’t the heart to point out that he showed me the other day, when I last did his hair. Admittedly, his back was to me then, but it is again right now. So, just like last time, I won’t truly be seeing him with his hair down.
“Or everyone, if you are a rhocyn,” he adds miserably.
Oh. Gosh. I get it now. Finally. Having to walk around with your hair down is worse than being forced to walk around naked. How awful. Poor Osian and Dyfri. I had no idea.
“You are not a rhocyn,” I say gently.
His shoulders stiffen and his back goes ramrod straight.
Dismay coils through me. I hate this. I hate what I have done to him. I delivered him to the Resistance, and however good my intentions were, the repercussions are profound. And all my fault.
