“Something. Anything,” I bite out through gritted teeth.
I don’t believe for one moment that he is as helpless as all that. He is a prince. And well, him. Tristan. A force of nature. Unstoppable and unrepented. If he wanted to change the world, he could. Nothing and no one would be able to stop him.
His eyes narrow, but he cannot out glare me. I have it down to a fine art form. I’m a master of it. As I should be after all the damn practice I have had.
“Did you really yell at Dyfri on my behalf?” he asks.
I blink. Now the bastard has thrown me off course, because I was not expecting that.
“It was more of a snap,” I confess.
Nevermind that it was also directed at Jamie and Mabon. The point still stands. I had a go at Dyfri for doubting his brother.
The very corners of Tristan’s lips curl upwards. Motherfucker. He cannot be pleased about me bitching at his family. He is such an asshole. Always thinking the best of me. It is infuriating.
“You need an orgasm,” he says calmly.
His words feel like a slap to the face. We’ve circled back to this again? Belittling me. Mocking me. I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate how my body is responding to his suggestion.
“I do not!” I growl, taking care to enunciate each word clearly.
“You are all angry and agitated. A couple of orgasms will calm you down.”
Heat coils in my guts. I clench my jaw and ball my hands into fists.
“You are impossible!” I declare.
Suddenly, I’m on my back on the bed and Tristan is above me. The bastard pounced and pushed me back until I toppled over, and I never even saw him move.
I glare up at him and ignore the heat of his body and the feel of his weight pressing against me. I should be trying to headbutt him. Or bite him. I should be doing anythingapart from lying here with a racing heart and a swelling cock.
He raises my hands above my head and pins them to the mattress with one of his stupidly large and strong hands. With his other hand, he deftly unties my robes, and in no time at all, I’m naked.
I don’t want to think about how much practice it must have taken to make such a smooth move. But I cannot shake the dark thought from my mind. How many other people has he done this to? When he is done with me, am I going to be as forgettable as they are?
“Hold,” he says, and a warm tingling sensation dances over my wrists.
His hand moves away. I try to move my arms. They won’t move. This bastard has pinned my hands to the mattress with magic.
He gives me an evil smirk. Then he slowly slides down my naked body. His firm hands take hold of my thighs and gently lift and spread them.
I stare down at him, settled between my legs. All glowing red eyes and proud antlers. A beast. A demon. A monster. About to take me. Devour me. Destroy me.
I can’t breathe. My lungs are stuttering, short, sharp, awkward gasps that aren’t giving me any oxygen at all. My cock is throbbing. Arousal is pulsing in my veins. I want him. I want this.
His ruby eyes are still gleaming. He winks at me and then his tongue attacks my hole. Scalding hot, wet, soft yet insistent. My back lifts off the bed, my body arches, my throat cries out. Oh my stars.
His tongue licks over and over. Around and around. Wet and soft. Heated. Everything is so tender down there, theskin so delicate. I can feel him acutely. I can feel the pleasure building and building. Spreading from between my legs to consume my entire body. A wildfire setting everything in its path ablaze.
I can feel my hole relaxing. Softening. Fluttering for him. It should be mortifying. Humiliating and devastating. But the truth is, it is none of those things. It is glorious.
I moan in delight as his tongue sinks inside me. My head thrashes back and forth. There is so much sensation and ecstasy zapping through me. I’m already ready to burst. At least I’ve lasted a little longer than the first time he ate me out.
My eyes scrunch up tight as I surrender to my orgasm. Pleasure surges, crests and breaks. It races through me like lightning. Rearranging every cell in my body and rewriting my DNA.
Panting, I slowly drift back to reality. My arms are still pinned above my head. Tristan is still between my legs, but he is sitting up now.
I watch hazily as he unstoppers a pretty bottle and pours a clear oil onto his fingers. He gives me a soft smile, and then his oiled fingers slip inside me. I moan weakly. His fingers spread, opening me up and then he somehow pours oil directly from the bottle, right into me.
