He moves. Short, shallow thrusts. Obscene animalistic noises tumble from my throat. He drags along something inside me and now I’m seeing stars. He slides back in and hits that spot again, and suddenly everything is white. Pure, bright, dazzling light.
I scream my way through my climax as my mind is disassembled. I will never be the same again. He has taken me apart. This is a whole new level of orgasm.
The euphoria slowly fades. Dimly, I’m aware of lying on my bed. Aftershocks are shooting through my body, making my muscles tremble, and Tristan’s cock is still sheathed inside me. It’s still hard. My guts are twitching and spasming sporadically around it and it feels so fucking good.
“I told you it would fit,” he gloats.
I don’t have the strength to talk. I’m not sure I even remember how to move the muscles in my face to coordinate such a feat. I’m going to have to concede defeat on this argument.
“I’ll let you catch your breath, Little Nisny, then we will go again.”
Oh fuck.
Chapter twenty-three
Idon’t want to wake up. Not yet. But my annoying bladder is insisting. Urgh. This is terrible. I’m warm and I’m comfortable and I don’t want to move. Even though I’m face down in an ungainly sprawl and I’ve drooled all over my pillow. And everything aches and my ass is sore.
Goddamnit. Maybe waking up and moving isn’t such an awful idea after all. Tentatively, I open one eye. It is daytime, but the heavy curtains are drawn so it is shady and dark in my bedroom. Tristan is gone. There is no need to roll over and check the other side of the bed. His presence is unmissable. It burns and takes up all the space in the room. If he was here, I’d know.
He fucked me senseless and then left. I’m not sure how I feel about that. The being fucked part was fantastic, I know how I feel about that bit. But the disappearing act should surely be upsetting me? So why am I apparently completely unbothered by it?
It doesn’t seem like he has buggered off in a cold, uncaring way. More like he had shit to do and didn’t want to wake me. But that could simply be wistful thinking. I’m still feeling a little giddy and euphoric, so maybe that is influencing me. Maybe I should be upset that he is gone.
My bladder twinges painfully. Fine. I’ll get up. I can angst over whether happy hormones are addling my brain another time.
Gingerly, I heave myself out of bed. Several muscles twinge. Then as I stand upright, stuff seeps out of me. Eww! That is so very gross.
I hurry to the toilet, quickly pee and then rush into the shower and turn it on. Hot water rains down on me. The water pressure in Buckingham Palace is heavenly. Oh god, this feels good. Going for a shower was a brilliant decision. No way was I going to sit in a bath for this. I need to wash stuff off of me, not sit in it.
The divine shower gently pummels me and the heat soaks into my aching muscles. I could stay in here all day. But now that I’ve woken up, my stomach has as well. There really is no rest for the wicked.
I step out of the shower and find one of the little green goblin dudes waiting to dress me. Fine. I’m tired and could do with the help. I’m kind of getting there with fey clothes, but it is a struggle I’d rather not battle with right now.
The little guy works efficiently and silently and in no time at all, I’m dried and dressed. Great! Time for breakfast!
I stride out into the main room and sure enough, the table is set with a huge array of breakfast foods. Rain is lashing at the large windows from a grey and atmospheric sky. But inside is warm and softly lit. The whole thing is rather cosy.
My feet suddenly freeze. Dyfri is sitting in Tristan’s chair and helping himself to an almond pastry.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap.
“Apparently, you do need training after all,” Dyfri says, and he pops the small pastry into his mouth.
It is far too early for this. I stagger over to the table and pour myself some coffee. Then I flop down into my chair, and instantly regret it. I really should have sat down gently.
Dyfri sniggers softly and I glare at him over my coffee cup. I swear I didn’t wince out loud, but whatever. I’m not embarrassed.
My eyes narrow and I scrutinise Dyfri carefully. He is busily tucking into the pastries and appears completely innocent. As if he didn’t just mock me. He also seems fine. Completely unruffled. He doesn’t look like someone who fled a ball last night because he was emotional.
My gaze shifts to his long, lovely hair. All glossy and… loose. I cough and gulp down coffee. Damnit. Now I know what it means, staring at it is making me feel all kinds of awkward. As well as absurdly glad that I couldn’t be bothered to wash my hair just now, or undo the plaits Tristan gave me last night. This ridiculous urge to lift my hand up and check the plaits are still in place, is stupidly hard to fight.
“I don’t need you to train me.” I say, mostly just for something to say because right now, any distraction will do. Anything at all.
“Tristan asked me to,” Dyfri says, and he nonchalantly pours a cup of tea from a gold teapot.
I scowl and snatch up a bacon roll. I bite into it and chew aggressively. What the hell is Tristan playing at? I thought last night was us turning a corner, but now he has pulled a stunt like this?
“I don’t want to be trained,” I mutter under my breath.
