He grips me around the waist and tugs me over his hips. “Then hold on to the headboard and sit on my face.”
68
Rosalina
Iblink at him, stunned into stillness. “Kel.”
“If you do not want this, then tell me now.” He runs a thumb along my lips. “Because I have been dreaming of the taste of you for so long.”
I’ve dreamt of this, too,I think,but I won’t be able to reciprocate.
He kisses the side of my neck. “Rest assured, being able to touch you, to watch you come apart under my care alone, is all the pleasure I need. Lift your arms.”
I do, and he removes my shirt. My whole body quivers with anticipation. He’s only ever given me fleeting touches. But he means to have me. All of me.
Rough hands glide down my body.
“So perfect,” he says, a surprising lightness to his voice. “Long have I ached to touch these beautiful breasts.”
My laugh turns to an almost feral moan as he kneads at me, thumb flicking over my pointed nipples.
“And these hips, your stomach, these gorgeous, long legs.” His eyes roam over me like a fire. “By the stars, I could gaze at you for an age.”
I tuck a stand of dark hair behind my pointed ear. “I might be fae now, but even I’m not that patient.”
He slides back down on the mattress, eyes narrowed. “Then, my Rose, do what I said. Grab the headboard and sit on my face.”
I reach forward and grip the white wood that makes up the back of his large bed. Then I lift my hips and gingerly hover above his face. He grips my thighs with his hands, rubbing his rough stubble along the sensitive skin. My inner muscles clench with the sensation, with the warmth of his breath.
Then he guides me lower, and as he lightly brushes my aching center, all I can do is sigh. But it’s his sounds—so purely male, so eager—that make me wet with anticipation. His touch is delicate and careful, like slicing the tiniest piece off an expensive dessert to savor each bite.
He’s savoring me.
My fingers curl, gaze focused on the ripples of wood, as he continues the light kisses between my legs. Light like butterfly wings fluttering against my skin.
“You’re holding yourself up.” Kel’s rough stubble scratches the inside of my thigh. “I mean for you to use the headboard to push yourself down.”
“I’ll suffocate you,” I whisper.
He makes a dissatisfied sound. “What need do I have for air with your thighs around my head?”
And with that, he grips my hips and pulls me down. His tongue drives into me. All sense of delicacy gone, he works me with the furious passion of a man long starved. Licking, sucking, nipping at my inner thigh until he remembers he is indeed mortal—or near enough to it—and needs to breathe.
All I can do in response is babble an incoherent sob and clutch the headboard as the glorious sensations threaten to overtake every sense of my body.
Eventually my hips find a rhythm of their own, rocking and grinding against his lips, the roughness of his jaw causing an even greater thrill. “Kel,” I cry out his name, along with more senseless prattle, as my pleasure builds and builds. My palms grow slick on the headboard, but I do as my mate instructed. I push down, desperate for more of him.
I’m rewarded with an absolutely pleasurable growl as his tongue works. “Kel, I’m—I’m—” I explode into a series of spasms, muscles convulsing.
“Fuck yes, Rosalina,” he growls, continuing to lap at me as I come, rough tongue massaging my aching and tender core. “Come, Rose. Don’t stop. Give it to me.”
My pleasure crests out of me with a tiny whimper, and my fingers fall limp off the wood headboard. My legs feel like jelly. Kel lays me flat on my back. My vision spins as he kisses me, and I taste myself on his lips.
“Do you know how tortuous it has been?” he growls. “To feel you come for the others, to know they get to taste you, to watch you writhe and moan? Until dawn, Rosalina, you are all mine.”
I grip the back of his neck, fingers threading the white strands of his hair. “All yours.”
“Do you trust me?”
