“Not yet,” he teased, gazing into her eyes as he slid a finger inside her. Her head lolled back before his other hand was on her chin.
“You wanted to watch, right? Watch me make you come on my tongue.”
The inherent possessiveness of his words intoxicated her. As if he was challenging her to find anyone else who could own her pleasure so completely.
He pumped his finger into her, a slow, sensuous rhythm as his tongue circled her clit. Her inner muscles clenched and released around him, leading her towards detonation. She quivered against the bench, exhaling one breathy gasp after another, each a higher pitch than the last.
And then, just when she thought she couldn’t take another second, like her entire body was going to seize up, he circled the tip of his finger against that magical spot inside at the same time as he sucked her sizzling bundle of nerves into his mouth.
Her body fractured into dazzling pieces.
Her hips bucked frantically, slamming into his chin, and she threaded a hand into his hair to hold his face between her legs.
She screamed his name so loudly that one of the stallions outside whinnied and nickered in response.
He licked her through the throes of her orgasm, then kissed her inner thighs as she settled back against the bench, her ears ringing and her mind scattered among the stars.
He rested his cheek against her leg, one hand rubbing and squeezing her ass as the other trailed along the back of her calf.
Gawking at him with wide eyes and uneven breathing, she tried to remember where she was, where they were going, what High-Gods-darned planet she was on.
“Tristan,” she croaked out.
He gifted her a smug smile, one of pure satisfaction and pride.
The way he’d just made her feel was beyond compare. She had no idea her body was capable of such a monumental release. And though Tristan was a master of the mechanics, some gentler part of her knew her pleasure had been heightened because it washimperforming the act.
She bit back tears at the thought. She didn’t have time for them tonight.
He rose onto his knees, the very clear evidence of his own enjoyment tenting his pants. He shoved a hand into them, and, with a pained grimace, tucked his length up under his waistband to mask the bulge.
She laughed, and he cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, so funny, is it? Just for that, I’m going to hold onto these for the rest of the night.”
He slipped her red panties into his pocket, and she bolted upright with an indignant squeak.
“Protest all you want, but maybe next time you’ll think twice before laughing at my pain. Which probably won’t be going away anytime soon, since I’ll spend all night knowing exactly whatisn’tbeneath your dress. On second thought, this might be more of a punishment for me.”
She laughed again, some of her uneasiness drifting away at his playful banter. She smoothed her skirt, the silk cooling her heated, swollen flesh.
“Plus, it will help with the scent. Every Fae in that room will be able to smell me on you.” He swiped a hand across his chin. “And smell you on me.” He winked as he shrugged his jacket back on, an awkward dance given the breadth of his wings in the cramped cab. He banged the ceiling to signal to the Beastrunners that they were ready to resume the journey.
The carriage rattled into motion, and Tristan affixed his majestic profile out the window while his hand futzed with her panties in his pocket.
Her body ached to cross the space between them. To tear off his pants, help him alleviate the impressive strain against his waistband. But her mind didn’t dare. She was playing with fire and the burns were beginning to blister.
The carriage bounced to a stop, skidding in the curve of a gravel driveway before a sprawling stone palace.
Tristan turned his thoughtful, anxious gaze upon her.
“Show time.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Tristan stretched his cramped wings as he stepped out of the carriage, then turned back to offer Cassandra a hand.
As he surveyed the grand stone facade, he couldn’t shake his underlying sense of dread. Couldn’t help feeling he hadn’t done enough to protect Cassandra from the sinister world she was about to plunge into. Not that he didn’t trust her to take care of herself. She had shrewd instincts and an uncanny ability to read people.
He had to admit some part of himdidwant to live out this fantasy. One where Cassandra belonged to him and him alone. He’d been dying to get his tongue between her legs and the reality far surpassed his many fantasies.
