Before I could respond, another finger joined the first, like he couldn’t resist. I arched on the bed, eyes opening wide, my mouth parting.
All the while, his fingers kept moving inside me, slow and steady, coaxing pleasure in rhythm with every flick and press of his tongue.
I writhed beneath him, undone, my hands in his hair—dark, damp, curling around my fingers. I looked down, his eyes watched me, smoldering with a need so deep it hurt. Not just desire. Devotion.
I gasped his name. He didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause. He only licked me with the flat of his tongue, long and lavishing, and pushed his fingers deeper.
His fingers moved inside me with reverence, curling slowly,stroking places I hadn’t known existed. My hips lifted of their own accord, chasing the sensation, but he pinned me with a hand on my thigh, commanding and unhurried.
The current of my pleasure rose suddenly, crashing over me with a cry I didn’t recognize as my own voice. My body rocked, and he held on, his mouth tight on my clit, tongue pressing again and again, driving me through the fall.
I fell apart in his grip, my body boneless, only held together by his arms.
When I breathed out, long and slow, he released his hold on me. I barely saw him through my lidded eyes, the sweep of his thumb over his mouth. His lips curling around the end of it as he tasted me.
“Definitely not human,” he murmured.
I let my head fall back. “Fuck.”
I hadn’t expected that, any of it. Not the need, the devotion in his eyes, thattongue.
He rose, the whole of him coming into view once more. My gaze followed, dropped down his chest, his abdomen, and below, where his cock hung thick and heavy and gorgeous. I felt wrung out, and yet a tight string of need brought me up to my elbows.
“Want you,” I breathed, hardly comprehending the words before they were spoken. “Now.”
This time he didn’t hesitate, didn’t prevaricate. He descended over me the same way he’d dropped between my legs, all sureness and dark intent. His body came over mine, eyes level with mine, pressing against me. One hand slid down my side, warm fingers pressing into my hip and then my thigh.
His forehead touched mine as his hand moved between my legs—as he took hold of his cock and slid it over my clit. My lips parted, and he kissed me through my gasp. His tongue slipped into my mouth as he pressed himself into me. Slowly at first, then with a thrust that made both of us groan and my eyes open wide. He lodged home, the two of us joining deeply, my body clutching his.
He paused. He was almost too big, that thrust on the edge of pain. He breathed fast, his lips parted. “Are you?—”
“I’m fine,” I said, and caught his mouth in a kiss that made him moan again. I pushed my hips against him, urging him deeper, and he thrust again, less pain this time, more pleasure. I gasped into the kiss and my fingers found his back. They dug in there, raking, wanting more, more, more.
He gave it to me, every thrust a starburst of pleasure. His lips were hot on mine, on my cheeks, my nose, my eyelids, as though he’d lost all sight yet wanted to worship nonetheless. My legs wrapped around him, holding tight, rising higher and higher, spinning up fast, faster?—
I broke with a cry, hoarse and loud, shattering around him.
That sent him over. His breathing became grunts, his thrusts harder, rhythmic, until he buried his face in my shoulder. He was almost more animal than fae, his body shaking. I felt him let go inside me in pulse after hot pulse as he held me tight to him.
I held on just as tight; I wanted him this close. I wanted him closer.
Eventually we stilled, he on top of me, our bodies coated with sweat.
I had never felt so sated. And then, while my arms were still wrapped around his back, a thought struck clear:I don’t want to be anywhere else.
Eventually, after minutes, he lifted his face. A soft smile appeared, and he brought his thumb up and stroked my lips. He breathed out. “I meant to clean you off.”
My lips twitched. “You can do it again, if you like.”
“I think I might.” His hand swept over my hair, and he kissed my forehead. “This time properly.”
I heard so much care in his voice. It almost sounded like?—
He slid out of me and pressed himself up to a seat. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from me, head bowed. I wondered what was passing through his mind, but before I could ask, he stood andcrossed into the washroom. He returned with a mosscloth, lay down on the bed next to me, and asked, “May I?”
He really meant to clean me.
I nodded, and he lowered the cloth between my legs. He wiped between my thighs with slow care as I lay in a daze, feeling more relaxed than I’d ever thought I could feel. He moved on to my legs, my belly, my arms, and even gingerly around my shoulder.
