Page 115 of In Between Death and the Devil

I lost track of how long he spent lavishing attention on my breasts. He alternated between them, sucking and nibbling one, running his mouth and then teeth over the underside while palming the other and running his thumb over the nipple until my hips rocked wildly, seeking the friction I was desperate for. “Please. More,” I begged when I couldn’t take it anymore.

“More what? Be specific.”

I grunted in frustration and pulled his hair, but he wouldn’t budge. Just pressed a smile into my skin. Fuck. He was really going to make me say it. “I need you inside of me,” I managed to gasp out, my face hot.

“You want me to fuck your sweet cunt?” he asked.

“Yes. Fen. Please.” I sounded pitiful, but I didn’t care.

“Oh, sweetheart. Have I been teasing you too long?” He pulled back and cupped my cheek.

“Yes. No.” It was all so good, but I felt so empty. I needed more. I fisted his tunic. “Just, please⁠—”

He cut my plea off with a filthy kiss. Then he slid his hands under my thighs and stood, taking me with him.

My legs wrapped around his waist, and my arms around his neck. His mouth didn’t leave mine as he walked us over to the bed.

I was acutely aware of the fact that I was naked and he was not. Running my hands down his chest, I tore at the laces of his tunic, wanting the fabric off. In my haste, they tangled.

He tossed me down onto the middle of the bed, made quick work of undoing his tunic and pulled it and his shirt over his head.

My eyes traced the lines of his chest greedily. His muscles were well defined, his chest and abs sculpted, and his arms thick and strong. I longed to run my hands over every dip and swell. Maybe my tongue as well.

He smirked, blatantly perusing my body in return.

This time, I resisted the urge to hide from him. I was too wound up to pretend I wasn’t dripping wet for him.

Grabbing one of my ankles, he pulled me towards the edge of the bed.

I slid towards him with a small shriek, but somehow it took him kneeling between my legs to realize what he intended. “You don’t have to. I… I’ve never—” I stuttered.

“Because you don’t want me to? Or because that asshole never bothered to eat you out?” He kissed the inside of my thigh, waiting patiently for my answer.

Part of me wanted to pull him up and over me so I could hide my face in his neck, but another part of me was desperately curious about what it would feel like. “The second.” I made myself hold his gaze.

“Hot or cold?” Fen asked, pressing a kiss a few inches higher on my leg.

“Warm.” Another kiss, this time with a scrape of teeth, higher still. “Warmer.” He placed one more on the crease of my hip. Then he spread me with his fingers and ran his tongue through my folds and up to circle my clit. “Oh, Gods.”

My eyes rolled back in my head and my back arched as he proceeded to devour me. My hands scrabbled at the bedding beneath me, at his arm across my lower stomach, his hair. Anything to keep from floating away, which was ridiculous because Fen had me pinned to the bed.

He slipped two fingers inside of me, filling me in a way that was both perfect and not enough.

Pleasure built, threatening to consume me, but I fought it, not wanting it to end.

“Let go, Maeve,” he said. “Come for me.”

I tried to shake my head, but I ended up thrashing, my head lolling from side to side.

“Yes. It’s not the end. Don’t worry. Now give it to me.” He twisted his fingers, hitting a divine spot inside of me, and my climax shattered through me with a shout.

I came harder than I’d ever come in my life. Thought was obliterated—there was only sensation. My limbs quaked and trembled as he kept working me with fingers and tongue until the waves of pleasure finally receded.

He looked up at me from between my thighs, smug satisfaction radiating from him.

Giving him a sleepy smile, I let my head fall back on the bed. I was exhausted and sated and limp.

Pressing a chaste kiss to my thigh, Fen stood. His hands went to his pants, working the laces open.