“Insatiable,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“You started it.”
“I did.” He rolls his hips, pressing against me and making me gasp. “Should I finish it?”
My answer is to pull him closer, and he laughs …actually laughs… and the sound does strange things to me. I’ve heard him laugh before, but not like this. Not this soft and easy sound that curls around me.
He pulls back, and before I can protest, his hands are on my hips, flipping me onto my stomach. The move is so fast I barely register it before I’m face down on the mattress.
“Up.” His hand slides under my stomach and lifts me. “On your knees.”
I comply, my heart hammering. This position makes me feel exposed in a way I’ve never been before. Vulnerable and open. His hand strokes down my spine.
“You have no idea how good you look right now.”
The dark possessiveness in those words sends a shiver through me, and then he’s moving, pushing inside me with one long stroke. The angle is different like this—deeper and more intense—and I grip the sheets and moan into the pillow as he seats himself all the way inside.
He holds there for a moment, hands tight onmy hips, breathing already unsteady, then he starts to move. Slow at first. Long, deliberate strokes that drag against every sensitive place inside me. Places I didn’t know existed. I push back against him, trying to urge him to move faster, but he sets the pace, fingers digging into my hips, holding me exactly where he wants me.
“Cairn!”
“Shh.” One hand leaves my hip to press against my shoulder blades, pushing me down into the mattress, and changing the angle of my back. “I’m busy.”
I laugh, and the sound turns into a gasp as he snaps his hips forward, harder than before. The new angle makes me see stars. My fingers twist in the sheets, and sounds spill from my mouth that a part of my brain acknowledges that he’d be right to gag me for.
“So eager.” His voice is rough, strained.
“Shut up!”
“Make me.”
I can’tmakehim do anything, and we both know it. He’s in complete control—of the pace, the angle, the depth. All I can do is take what he gives me and beg for more.
Gods, do I beg.
His hand slides around my hip, and down between my legs, finding the place where I need him most, and I cry out. He works me with his fingers as he thrusts, building the pressure from two directions at once. The pleasure coils tighter and tighter?—
Bells ring out.
For a second, I think it’s in my head, then more bells join the others. Cairn stills.
“No.” The word comes out broken. “No, no, no.”
But Cairn is already pulling out of me, on his feet and reaching for his pants. The transformation is instant. One moment he was inside me, all warm and rough, and the next he’s all hard edgesand coiled tension, every line of his body alert.
He’s half-way to the door when someone pounds on it. “Humans approaching. Stay inside. Stay hidden.” Kaelith’s voice. “I’ll explain once they leave.Do not come out.The top floor is warded. As long as no mages are with them, you’ll be undetected.”
I want to scream. My body is still throbbing with denied release, my hands shaking as I roll to my feet and grab for my clothes. I pull them on, trying to force my mind to focus on what is going on rather than what we were just doing.
Cairn moves to the window, pulling the curtain aside an inch. His face gives nothing away, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the stillness that means danger, and it’s strange to me how, not that long ago, that stance would ignite terror. Now it makes me feel safe. Secure that whatever is happening, he will deal with it.
I cross to stand beside him, still breathing hard, and peek through the gap. Below, the village is silent. Shutters on cottages have been pulled closed. There are no fae in sight, just humans going about their daily business.
“There are riders coming from the west.” Cairn’s voice is flat. “A dozen at least.”
He herds me back from the window before I see them, but I can hear them. The clatter of hooves, men’s voices.
Who are they? What if it’s my father’s men, searching for me?
