“Only warm? I’m so hot for you, Princess. My offer still stands.”
“Offer?”
“Explore my body. Find out what a male body is like, what it feels like. What gives a man pleasure.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t… couldn’t.”
“Of course you can. It’s a lesson, nothing more.” That’s what I tell myself, anyway. I never lied to myself as much as I have with her. “This isn’t sex.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I told you, Princess, you can always touch me. I won’t touch you back unless you expressly ask me to, not because I don’t want to, but because it will be your choice. Everything will be your choice. When I press my mouth to every soft part of you, when I show you pleasure unlike any you have ever felt, I want it to be your decision.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
ROSAMUND
Touch him.
He’s right, what’s wrong about that? I’m only touching, learning. Studying. I won’t stand before my future husband not knowing what to expect, and then let him see me slack-jawed, or worse, terrified of his body and his needs.
And I’m aware that this isn’t a common man’s body, a human man’s body. There are differences, not least of all the heavy knot at the base of Valen’s large, long cock. A pierced cock. A perfect body. And Gods, the wolf ears and the tail swishing behind his perfect, muscular thighs make him all the more enticing.
I frown at the direction my thoughts are heading.
Keep it dispassionate,I instruct myself.Just look, feel, understand. Given explicit permission to explore, why should I let it go to waste?
Somewhere deep inside my mind, I’m aware that rational thought has been corrupted. His beauty, his kindness, his fierceness are some kind of potion, potent wine, distorting reason. What seems rational isn’t. What seems conscious isn’t.
What it is… I can’t tell. Lust. Obsession. Enchantment.
So many tales talk about the danger of the fae kind, about their magic and how it can draw you and mislead you.
They got it wrong. It’s not magic. It’s just Valen. His body, his face, his voice, his faint smirk. His strength. His gentleness as he carries me in his arms. His moans when I run my hands over his body.
The thought of pleasuring him, of making him lose control and come for me, because of me, is powerful.
Look at my thoughts straying already.
I hesitate.
“I swear I won’t touch you back,” he says, and sounds… desperate? No, it has to be something else. He lifts his hands and laces his fingers behind his head. “No touching.”
With his arms raised like that, his muscles bulge in his arms, his biceps swelling, his shoulders lifting, and… Who knew I’d find a man’s muscles so pleasing? So… hot.
Who knew I’d find a dark fae werewolf so hot?
Live and learn,I think randomly, placing my hand on his chest again, shivering with delight at the feel of him, smooth skin, raised with faint scars here and there, strong muscle stretched over sinew and bone, expertly sculpted. Expertly made to enrapture me.
They say the white weasels of Siris city evolved to be cute so people would feed them. Did the fae evolve to be prettier and sexier so humans would follow them into the woods?
But coherent thought is a lost cause at this point, as I now slide both hands up his hard stomach to his defined pectorals. My breathing is coming out in short gasps as my body clenches deep inside. What is it about this man’s body that has me trembling? I’ve never wanted to wrap myself around any male before. I’m fascinated by every detail, from the small hard nipples to the smattering of scars on his forearms and the sparse hairs of his armpits. He’s pretty sleek, in the way fae men are, no beard, barely any fur on him—except when he shifts, I think, and a snort escapes me.
I’m losing my mind.
“Something funny?” he asks. The question is light, but there is a tightness to his voice, and when I instinctively glance down, I see his cock bobbing against his hard stomach, a pearly drop sparkling on the head, at the small slit.
“Are all men’s cocks like yours?” I whisper, meaning the slit.
