Last night was about me.
Tonight . . .
Tonight, I want this to be about us both.
I catch his wrist and drag his hand from between my thighs, urging him back onto the mattress.
His sharp smile flashes in the dimming light while shadows dance across the ridges of his chest. The planes of his stomach. The trousers are doing a terrible job of hiding his own desire.
I tug on the leather strap of his belt. “Will we take these off?”
Will he let me choose him tonight?
Maddox leaps to his feet, the sudden absence of his weight knocking me onto my backside. He shoves his trousers down his thighs so fast, he collides with the chair in his haste to kick them off.
He earns extra points for enthusiasm.
And even more for owningthat.
The one time I saw him disrobed was riddled with embarrassment and discomfort. None of that exists now as I motion for him to join me, urging him to lie back on themattress. He is even larger than I remember and continues to thicken when I take him in my fist and begin to stroke.
“No nettle stings today,” I murmur, fascinated by the way his abdominals flex and breath stutters with each solid stroke.
Raising his hands, he covers his face, but a smile peeks through. “Must you resurrect my greatest shame?”
He has nothing to be ashamed about. There is nothing shameful about Maddox Finch.
With my hand still wrapped firmly around his base, I lean down, taking him into my mouth.
His hands fly away, his eyes bulging as he gapes down at me, his breath rushing with a wheeze. “What is this you do?”
Knowing I’m the only woman who has ever had him makes me feel special. Like these stolen moments together mean more than I ever imagined they would. Like I’m not just someone with whom to pass the time. Like I’m worth being chosen.
I replace my lips with my tongue, flicking, earning whimpers and curses. “Do you like it?”
“I like all the things you do,” he chokes, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath. “You could . . . stab me, and I would . . . ask you to...do it again.”
I let my teeth graze his length; his hands bunch the quilt at his sides, the veins in his forearms straining. “Bear that in mind the next time you make me angry.”
Luckily, I do not need a dagger to bring this man to his knees. He might be the strongest person I know, but one long drag is all it takes to turn him into mush.
His stomach flexes and dark eyes watch me work him until he’s panting, his hips lifting to meet me, urging himself deeper, drawing tears from my eyes.
“Nia . . . Nia . . .Nia?—”
He comes with a moan and my name on his lips. No sign of my surname because we’ve claimed each other.
I take every drop, swallowing him down, hoping to draw out his pleasure the way he did mine in the cave. When he’s fully satiated, I sit back on my heels, trying to figure out why he’s frowning. The man should be beaming, not looking like he’s just been given a riddle to solve. “What’s wrong?”
He cards both hands through his hair, a look of pure horror overtaking his handsome face. “Number eight. You did not finish first.”
Always so worried about me. Here I didn’t think I could find him more endearing. “Consider the list more like a guideline.”
The words are barely off my lips before he catches my waist and tosses me back onto the bed. With my knees splayed, he drags a knuckle through my folds. “I can put my mouth here?”
Thank goodness I accepted the Unseelies’ offer to bathe before they gave me that shapeless, itchy gown. “If you want?—”
He buries his face between my thighs, devouring with abandon, not needing guidance other than a garbled, “Right there.”
