Ready for one more— What was it you called them again? Ah, yes . . . party tricks.
Can one be ready for their soul and heart to catch fire and burn?
With all twenty sets of ethereal hands still massaging my skin, Lore funnels shadows between my thighs, so many that the air is black with him. I watch in wonder as that darkness narrows and then gasp when it swoops inside of me.
My eyes roll to the back of my skull as he penetrates and stretches me, his shadows icy against my heat. They thicken and pulse like a cock, then become ridged like . . . like that sex toy Catriona kept in her room atBottom of the Jug. The one she used on some of her customers. The one I found when changing her sheets and stared at with crimson cheeks.
Every hardened nib, with which Lore has festooned his shadow-cock, begins to pulsate against my walls, making them shake and clench, and shake some more. As he plays with my body, I grip the bedsheets, tearing them clean off his mattress, and moan so loudly I think every Crow in the kingdom will know that their monarch is pleasuring me.
I suck in a breath and hold it as the legs he’s still tending to begin to shake. Sweat slickens my brow and beads between my breasts as every muscle in my body begins to spasm. The orgasm is so intense that my vision whitens and my throat clenches in time with my core. I choke on my scream, only managing to shape Lore’s name with my mind.
His shadows slow their assault but never cease rocking over and into me.
Oh my Gods, what the fuck was that, Lore?
Language, mo khrà.
I snort and shake my head, flinging one forearm over my eyes that are still flaring with the brightness of the supernova that just rocketed through my body.
As for what that was.After fingers, I now feel lips . . . dozens of them, licking and kissing me everywhere.That was me showing you that I can keep you satisfied, no matter my . . . configuration.
My arm slips off my eyes, and my lids reel up, my pleasure draining out of me like water from the tub.Your configuration?I snap, a little incensed because I’m a pro at reading between Lorcan Ríhbiadh’s obdurate lines.The next time you make love to me, mo khrà, it will be in flesh, and not in your or my fucking head.
I shove his billowing darkness off my body and leap out of bed, ready to carve through the ocean to retrieve his crow and rid him of his passive acceptance of never being whole again.
Fallon,he growls.
It’s morning, Lore. Time for our little swim.
I’ve changed my mind.
Well, I haven’t, and since wherever I go, you go, I fear you’re stuck.
His shadows form a wall in front of me. One that prevents me from stomping into his bathing chamber to retrieve a towel to wrap around my naked self.
I try to sidestep him, but he just fashions another wall.What is it about this mission that makes you so anxious, Lore? You and I, we’ve faced so much worse.
Though he bristles, he doesn’t disperse.
I lick my lips, trying to come up with an argument that will smooth out his ruffled feathers. I find the perfect one.At least, in the ocean, thanks to our serpent friends, no ill-intentioned Faerie is lying in wait for us with a nocked arrow or an obsidian blade.
Do you know how deep the trench goes?
With a sigh, I say,How about you tell me?
As steep as Monteluce, Fallon! That’s how deep.
I plop my hands on my hips, a little annoyed by his tone of voice. I understand it’s sparked by fear and not by anger, but still.And you’re certain you fell to the very bottom?
No.
How about we—bywe, I really meanhe—look at this dive as a reconnaissance mission. If in fact you’re out of my range, we’ll surface and plot another method of retrieval.
Several beats of silence echo between us before he finally mutters,I will carry you out of the Sky Kingdom only if youswearthat if at any moment I tell you to turn back, you turn back.
I twist my index finger over my middle one behind my back and say,I swear.
He tows my crossed fingers from behind my back.Want to try that again, Behach Éan?
