“You will not make a sound.”
She whimpers again. I give the sides of her neck a small squeeze.
“What did I say?”
“To be quiet.”
“Good girl.”
Then I lick the space between her breasts. Her body heaves. With my free hand, I trace circles around her nipple, never touching it. She tries to push it into my palm, and every time, my touch turns to a whisper. Goosebumps bud across her breast.
My mouth descends on her other nipple, warm and wet, as I will my fingers to cool. My magic shimmers along the plane, earthy and strong. The fae groans as I work her, icy fingers coaxing one peak, and enveloping my mouth around the other, teeth tugging.
I feel it building, deep in her throat. She fights it, and so I push more.
“Quiet now,” I say.
But she moans, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates against my palm on her neck. I squeeze, listening as her breath hitches, and roll her in my mouth, tease her, drive her higher and higher as she moans lower and lower and lower.
I slide my legs over hers, use my weight to hold her down, so that her torso is suspended, only held up by my touch, as her lower body moistens beneath me, bucking and bucking and bucking—
She cries out, body spasming. I pinch harder, tighten my grip on her neck as her orgasm rolls through her, all-consuming and messy. I keep going as she shudders, my grip more a reminder than a hindrance, as I know this feeling; the nerves sparking throughout her body, everything sensitive and raw and reeling.
The last of her spasms cease and she goes limp in my arms. I lower her to the mattress, the fae gasping, eyes closed, a stupefied grin on her face. Then I reach for the king, still not looking at him. His hand guides mine low, but I grip his wrist instead, tugging him forward.
“Again,” I say. “You’re going to come for me again.”
She throws an arm over her eyes. “I can’t.”
“What’s your word, then?”
She just shakes her head, and heat gathers between my thighs.
When I glance to the king, my fingers still clasped around his wrist, he is staring, mouth agape. The veins in his neck bulge, and his other hand is fisted around his throbbing cock.
“You ready?” I ask him.
“They’re golden again,” he breathes. “Your eyes.” Then he leans forward, as if to kiss me. My head turns to the side on instinct, heart pounding. My breath hitches as I realize my mistake.
“Avery.” The plane creaks with fury.
You should’ve just let him!I yell at myself, but my chest hurts so much. There is only one male I have ever wanted to kiss, to let kiss me, to run tattooed fingers through my hair. And while I will give any other part of myself, I somehow cannot give away this.
“What’s going on?” the fae asks, shifting her arm.
“Don’t move,” I tell her.
She huffs in mock protest, then shimmies deeper into the mattress, nipples hard. I drag my gaze back up to the king. He frowns, biting his lip. I tighten my grip on his wrist to ground him, then catch his other hand, the two of us knee to knee, his arms in my grasp now.
“What are you doing?” he murmurs, but the anger in his voice falters.
“Asking you to join.”
He raises a brow. “You seem to have it handled.”
If this were another male, I’d roll my eyes at his petulance. But it’s not, and besides, Jae would’ve never said something so inane.
“Your hands are bigger than mine,” I say placatingly. “They’ll feel better.”
