She still looks hot as hell.
She walks to the desk and perches on the edge, leaning back and tipping her head up with a deep sigh. I stare at that long, creamy neck, down to where her breasts strain againsther bodice. I bite back a groan as my cock stirs. This feels so inappropriate, considering what we just escaped from, and both thoroughly covered in other Fae’s blood, but I can’t help it.
“What happened back there with that Equitae?” The question comes out before I can stop it. I sound like a jealous idiot.
She looks conflicted. “To be completely honest, I don’t have a clue. I felt this really weird pulling sensation towards him, right here in my belly.” She runs her palm over her waist.
I let out a laugh, looking down at the state of her dress. Where once the billowing black fabric floated to the floor, the skirt is now a ragged scrap barely covering her black underwear.
“Hey, what’s so funny?”
“I do love the improvement to that dress.”
She smiles coyly, looking down at herself. “The damn skirt got in the way. Saleen’s going to be upset I ruined it.”
“I’m sure you’ll be forgiven under the circumstances.”
“I can’t believe that all just happened. All those Fae—” Her voice turns quiet. She stares at me, looking lost and fragile in a way I’ve never seen her before. She’s always hidden this side behind quick barbs or dutiful acceptance. An overwhelming need to protect her sweeps through me.
When she shifts on the desk, what’s left of her skirt rides higher, revealing more of her underwear.
The last thread of my control snaps.
“Fuck being appropriate,” I hiss.
I shove off the shelf with such force it slams against the wall behind it. My body moves on pure instinct, pure hunger—closing the distance between us in three desperate strides. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. My need for her is everything.
I grab each side of her neck. She lets out a breathy gasp. Her legs open slightly, and I lean into her between them as I capture her lips with sudden, unrestrained force. It’s not delicate or loving—it’s raw passion, the need to possess her mouth with mine. My tongue searches her lips, and she pushes back, her mouth opening to consume me. We groan in unison as our tongues dance together. Her sunlight taste is so sweet my mouth waters.
Her hands grip my sides, then slide back, creeping up beneath my robes. She pulls my shirt from my pants and runs her hands up my back, fingernails scraping ever so gentle.
“Take it off,” I say, drawing back slightly. As she tugs at the robe, I help by shrugging out of the arms, stealing quick kisses as I do, hands returning to her throat. Her hands go back under my shirt once the robe falls to the floor.
I pepper light kisses down from her mouth to below her ear, the tip of my tongue darting out to taste her skin—slightly salty and metallic from sweat and blood. As I make my way down her neck, her head falls back with a moan. I explore the length of that milky skin, kisses turning to light nips as my desire rises. My erection stirs, blood boiling with pure unfiltered lust.
When I reach her bodice with my mouth, I bring my hands down from her neck, slowly tracing over her skin to the hem, and pull it down. Her breasts spring free.
“Gods, can you get any more beautiful?”
She laughs, making them bounce. My desire rushes in waves as I cup them, my thumbs swirling her nipples. They harden under my touch. She writhes on the desk against me.
My erection grows quickly, painfully constrained. My mouth comes down to swirl one hard nipple with my tongue, then my hand seeks down below that scrap of a skirt, fingers slipping into the hem of her underwear. I gasp when my fingers run the length of her and feel how wet she is.
I start to feel myself unravel. I’m the master of restraint, but even a master has his limits.
I stand and look at her, my hand still in her underwear, stroking her slick heat, my thumb caressing her clit with every pass.
“You need to tell me what you want, Alaya, or I might just take it all.”
Her violet eyes are heavy with hunger. Silently, she grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls it over my head. I remove my hand from her heat, and she squirms in protest. My hand greedily returns. She runs her hands over my chest, fingers swirling through the soft black hair. She looks at me with such reverence, pausing to explore with both hand and eye, that my heart jolts with a fresh wave of desire for her.
Then she pushes me back with both hands, surprisingly strong as she leaps off the desk. She pushes me into the shelf, and my back collides with it. She has a feral, longing smile on her lips.
“My turn to taste you.”
If I were a weaker male, I would have shot my load right then.
“I might just have to marry you.” I laugh huskily as she falls to her knees in front of me, her hands smoothing down my stomach towards the waist of my trousers. I start to undo them, but she slaps my hand away.
