He thumbed my most sensitive spot in the way only a Fae High Lord could. A way that made me see stars deep underground.
Of course the Lord of Flame had unnaturally warm hands. His heat made me melt.
Then he dipped a finger inside me, the most delightful stretch. The friction I’d been aching for made my body sing.
“Fuck, princess.” He grinned, devilish. “Your human pussy is far too tight for me. There is no way I am going to fit.”
With his finger coated in my glistening need, he trailed up, parting my swollen flesh to my center, and then he rubbed gentle circles.
Every muscle in my body contracted and shuddered in agonizing bliss.
He repeated it—back to my opening, plunging in again—until, in a breathy, needy voice, I pleaded, “I need more.”
He chuckled darkly. “Good girl.”
He drove a second finger in and began a hooking motion that filled me with icy heat. The sudden stretch pulled a sound from me— equal parts yelp and moan.
His hands were better than any toy: warm, strong, large, and skilled. He moved like he wanted my soul to leave my body.
He increased the speed and intensity, and a hot internal pressure began to build and climb.
Then without warning, a third finger pressed in, and this time my cry was more yelp than moan.
“Good fucking girl,” he muttered. “You’re getting so close to being able to take my cock.”
The stretch sent sweet pain twisting with pleasure until I couldn’t untangle it—I only understood ecstasy.
He pumped harder and devoured my mouth, my moans swallowed by his kiss. My pelvis tightened; the pressure climbed to an unstable high. Then he spoke.
“The moment I met you and inhaled your scent,” he confessed against my lips, “I wanted to fuck you. That is my truth.”
He thrust his fingers harder. Everything about him, his words, his touch, his scent, his sounds made the pressure climb impossibly higher.
“Titus,” I moaned, approaching my pinnacle.
“And falling for you,” his lips grazed my ear, “when I know I shouldn’t…” His breath tickled my skin. “That is my dare.”
The low vibration of his voice, the filth of his words, sent me right over the fucking edge.
I drenched his hand in a sweet release.
My body convulsed, and my cries, more scream than moan, blared into the dark caverns, echoing his name down every level of the mine.
Suddenly, the ground beneath us trembled. Dirt and rocks fell around us, pelting our backs.
Reality ripped us out of our daze. His hand yanked free and covered my head.
“Get down!” he shouted, and we hit the ground. When the shaking stopped, we were still alive, and the cave still stood, remaining intact.
When the dust settled, Titus looked around—unnerved. “What was that?” I whispered, terrified.
“I don’t know,” he said, voice full of trepidation. “But let’s find the crystals and get the fuck out of here.”
I could tell Titus was far more nervous without his magic. We agreed and hightailed it down the sloping path.
We made it to the bottom-most layer of the mine. A small bioluminescent blue stream pooled across the ground, illuminating the chamber. The trickle echoed from the impossible height overhead.
We searched, but neither of us found anything remotely spherical—let alone melon-sized. So I explored a dark nook off one of the main alcoves. Half sunken in dirt, I spotted three sphere-shaped rocks.
