CHAPTER ONE
Felix
SEPTEMBER
“Please, let me,”he breathes, a desperate edge to his voice as he gazes up at me pleadingly. “I need to taste you… to make you feel good.”
I can’t deny the thrill of satisfaction that courses through me. Those words, that tone, the sight of him on his knees, begging to suck my dick… yeah, that pushes all my buttons. I’m so hard, it actually hurts. In a minute, I’ll benevolently allow him to pleasure me, but first, I need to torture him a little bit more.
After all, he deserves it.
I slide my hand into that long, silky brown hair and pull his head back. He was already looking at me, so this is purely about the power trip. “Youneedto, do you?” I ask. “And why should I care about what you need?”
His shaky exhale and dejected yearning go a long way toward soothing all the inner bruises he caused me, but I’m a petty bitch, and I want more.
“You shouldn’t,” he admits. “You should kick me in the face and step on me as you walk away. It’s what I deserve.”
Damn right.
“But I want to make it up to you,” he continues. “Please, Felix. Use me. Let me earn absolution in service to your body.”
Yeahhh… it’s hard to say no to that.
“I’ll do anything,” he promises. “You can do anything to me.”
“Hmm.” I pretend to be thinking about it, as if any sane man wouldn’t agree enthusiastically to an offer like that, freely given. His breath hitches as I tighten my hand in his hair, then let go and graze my thumb over the tip of one pointy ear. I so badly want to suck on those ears.The Lord of the Ringsmovies were a seminal part of my early adulthood, and the arrival ten years later of actual elves to this world seemed like a dirty dream come to life.
Now I have my very own pointy-eared elf kneeling at my feet, begging to fuck me.
“Okay, then,” I concede, gesturing to my crotch. “Prove yourself.”
Gratitude fills his expression, and he reaches for my belt.
What follows is the thing dreams are made of. His mouth is hot and wet, the suction isperfect, and I swear I could die right now and be happy. The sounds of him giving me a sloppy blow job are like music, flooding my whole body with waves of tingling heat. My hands are back in his hair, guiding him to exactly where I want him, but he barely needs it, seeming to know what I want and how I feel before I do.
I’d forgive him anything right now.
“I’m coming,” I warn, the words barely a gasp. “Swallow it all, Ari.”
The fervency in his gorgeous brown eyes assures me he never dreamed of doing otherwise, and that kills my last remaining threads of control. My orgasm blasts into me with the force of a speeding truck. “Ari!”
BRIIIIING!
I jolt awake, the strident tone of the phone mingling with the remnants of my dream to make for a confusing happy ending. By the time awareness comes back to me, the phone’s stopped ringing and my dick is limp.
Heaving a sigh, I scrub my hands over my face and wonder how much longer this fucking puberty bullshit is going to continue. Nightly wet dreams are wreaking havoc on my sheets, and I’m sick of doing laundry every day. And that’s before even considering how it affects me while I’m awake. Inconvenient boners at random times, surges in emotion—mostly the kind that convince people I need anger management therapy—and the constant inability to think clearly. I used to be considered smart and strategic, but the last couple of years has killed that reputation and replaced it with one for being angry, aggressive, and out of control.
Which is what led to me meeting Ari Oensjord in the first place.
I haul myself into a sitting position solely so I can then bang my head against the wall. The ironic thing is, the incident that brought me to Ari’s attention happened years ago, way before reproductive puberty made me… unhinged. It was still a little excessive, but the worst part was an actual accident, and I’m pretty sure if my current reputation hadn’t been what it is, he wouldn’t have prejudged me so hard.
Was he a dick for doing so? Fuck yeah.
Did he deserve the dressing down my friend Dáithí assures me he got from his boss? Also yes.
Was his awkward, uncomfortable apology to me the least he could have done? Definitely yes.
Does he still think I’m on the same level as shit he’d scrape off his shoe? Sadly… yes.
