I grin. Wider than I knew I could. Skin stretching to new limits.
“Of course. Right away, Your Highness!”
Dyfri’s eyebrows draw together. Before he can berate me, I move us. Removing my fingers from his incredible ass, and lifting myself out of the water, to sit on the edge of the pool while carrying him with me, still on my lap, cocks still pressed together.
He inhales sharply, but refrains from yelping in surprise. My grin widens even more. One day, one day I’ll have him completely uninhibited with me.
I release our cocks and quickly slather oil over mine. Then I look into his dark eyes.
“All yours, Your Highness,” I whisper.
Something flashes deep in his eyes. Concern swirls through me. Do I need to say he doesn’t have to? That he can change his mind? Or does he already know?
He nods decisively. He lifts up on his knees. His long, elegant fingers gently hold the base of my cock. He stares into my eyes, into my very soul, and slowly, slowly, sinks onto me.
Tight silken heat caresses me. Pressure and delight. Dyfri and euphoria.
Fireworks are exploding in my mind. My blood has turned molten. Arousal, desire, lust and ecstasy are real, solid things filling my insides. Making me both heavier and lighter.
This isn’t sex, this is a religious experience.
I have found my deity. His name is Dyfri and he is my husband. And I am going to worship him forever.
“Dyfri,” I cry out in reverence.
His eyes roll back. He shudders. He tightens around my cock.
I watch spellbound as he cums. The sight is too glorious. Too wonderful. Far too holy.
I grunt as I tumble and fall, following him over the edge into my own orgasm. Deep inside him, my cock pulses, emptying where he can keep it, and that gives me a deep sense of pride.
Dyfri pants and shudders with aftershocks, his head down, tangled hair covering his face. “That was quick.”
A helpless chuckle bubbles out of me. I’ve never made such a happy sound. I didn’t know I could.
His cock is still hard. Standing proud between our bellies. The most magnificent thing I have ever seen. My softening cock is still nestled inside him.
“I may not be fey, but trust me, if you want it, I’m going to be hard again in no time at all.”
Dyfri lifts his head. His eyes are gleaming with something that looks like delight. A light that is a little feral.
My heart skips several beats. This is rapidly turning into the best day of my life.
Chapter twenty-nine
Jack
Iwake to the unfamiliar weight of another person in my arms. For a moment, I’m utterly disoriented, blinking in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Then memory floods back, and I turn my head to find Dyfri curled against my side, his dark hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink. One arm and one leg flung over me.
He’s still asleep, and I love watching him like this. When his face is peaceful in a way I never see when he’s awake. Gone are the careful masks, the political calculations, the constant vigilance that seems to be his default state. Instead, he looks younger, softer, almost vulnerable in the golden morning light.
Yesterday was extraordinary. Not just the physical intimacy, though that had been revelatory in ways I’m still processing, but the emotional breakthrough that came with it. The trust he’d shown me, the way he’d let his walls down completely. I can hardly believe it’s real.
I slip out of bed carefully, trying not to wake him. He looks so peaceful, so deeply asleep in a way that fills me with quiet pride. I’ve helped him feel safe enough to rest properly, to let down his guard completely. Aftereverything he’s been through, all the years of vigilance and self-protection, he trusts me enough to be this vulnerable.
I make my way to the kitchen and order a full English breakfast from the main kitchen staff. Eggs, bacon, sausage, black pudding, baked beans, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, and toast. Comfort food at its finest. After yesterday’s intense negotiations and last night’s emotional breakthroughs, I’m absolutely ravenous.
I’m halfway through demolishing the plate when Dyfri appears in the doorway. He’s wearing a flowing nightgown that pools around his bare feet, his dark hair tousled and messy in a way that’s utterly endearing. No careful styling, just sleepy and rumpled and completely natural.
