Page 65 of Curse the Fae

The sound only encourages him to destroy me further. The Fae fluctuates between etching the nub of my clit and thrusting back into my core. He follows the signals—my gestures and moans. I know because every place I yearn for him, he finds and tugs into his mouth until I’m a sobbing mess.

He straps his lips around the morsel of flesh and sucks on it, drawing, pulling. I might very well faint. My blood charges to that place, a crescendo building in that spot, the need winding tight.

Simultaneously, I writhe against the waterwall and grind myself onto his face, chasing something brazen and forever out of reach. Elixir palms my rear and shoves me closer to him, closer to his lips and tongue, which throttle me faster, harsher.

My head whisks backward under the flux. I tense…and spring apart…and give a wailing cry. The world blackens at the edges, then swarms my being in a profusion of warmth, a great rush flooding from the place where Elixir’s tongue rides me. The climax rages. It spreads down my limbs and over my scalp. I weep with rapture, the sounds cluttered and shaky.

I’m barely coherent when Elixir unhitches my leg, reattaches the fingercaps he’d discarded, and rises. His body pitches off the ground, his body flush with mine, so that I feel his heart dashing inside his chest. He listens to my stuttered exhalations and the beat of my pulse, and I watch him relish the signs.

In response, his irises flare. The Fae lowers his head nearer to me, his expression sick with desire.

He’s not done with me yet. Nor do I want him to be.

The waterwall rushes over us, then ebbs to a trickle, then dissipates.

He leans in. “Now I know,” he rumbles against my mouth. “Now I see it. Your cunt is beautiful.”

I keen against him, “If you take mine, I take yours.” I drag my tongue across the slope of his jaw. “Show it to me—”

I’ve barely finished the sentence. Elixir swoops down and claims my mouth. Our lips spread and clutch, our tongues sweeping together. His hands and my hands have the same intention, both dropping to the waistband of his leggings.

I want this barrier off, gone, never to return. I grunt, trying to peel them down his hips, but Elixir helps by pricking the material with his caps and giving a quick yank. The leggings tear and slump low over his narrow hips, and he lets me take over, lets me wrench the pants from his limbs. The leggings shed to the ground and land beside what’s left of my sapphire dress.

My eyes drop to the ramps of his hipbones and…

The vision depletes precious air from me. My lungs give out as I take in the size and shape of his mast rising high against his abdomen. It’s long, straight, and stiff as a rod, the skin as burnished as the rest of him, the crown swollen and flushed.

His cock is divine.

I reach out, yearning to discover if it’s as smooth as it looks. Elixir’s arm strikes out and catches my wrist. Silently, he shakes his head, his eyes flashing.

“But why?” I ask.

“Because you will slay me,” he implores.

I would smile at this admission, that he wouldn’t be able to stand my touch, but I gasp instead when Elixir folds me against him and takes my mouth again. He kisses me into another stupor. I cling to his shoulders while he grabs me by the waist and backs me toward the water’s edge.

His arms strap around me, and the world spins. Elixir twists me down, lowering me to the pond’s rim, where the water mops at a small crescent of wet grass I hadn’t noticed before.

My body puddles atop the bank. Elixir follows me down, every hot and heavy pound of muscle and bone hovering above me. His hair tumbles in a curtain around us, the strands pooling with my teal locks.

We move in unison, panting and restlessness and fed up with waiting, with everything that’s happened, with everything that will happen later. I split my quivering thighs and coil my legs around his waist, and he sinks into the vent. Heat emanates from his cock, and wetness drenches my core, and it feels so terribly good.

My nipples jut into his torso. Sweat and mist glaze our skin, my fair complexion a stark contrast to his, the differences evidence despite the murk.

Elixir braces his palms on either side of my head. His upper body looms off the ground, while his lower half splays me wide, his limbs shorn like his upper half, as sleek as glass.

Like this, I get a peek at his backside…his firm ass, as my sister would call it…another sinful word I’m beginning to appreciate. That ass is toned, with dimples in the sides. My knees pitch higher, and my heels skid up his thighs, reaching the swells of his buttocks.

Elixir’s irises cleave through the faint light and seek me out, always probing, always trying. Unbidden, the knowledge prompts me to cup his cheek. He twitches from the contact but allows me this moment of tenderness.

Like this, I remember several crucial details. I don’t love him, and he doesn’t love me. I’m a captive, and he’s the captor. I’m a human, and he’s a Fae. We’re still enemies.

And I want him inside me anyway. I long for escape, release, and defiance. I yearn for the hard, heavy thrust of his weight pushing moans from me.

His cock wedges between us, the bulbous head nocked at my opening. Nervousness and desperation clash within me, because this is happening. It’s happening with this Fae, the last creature on earth I should be giving this to, sharing this with. But it doesn’t matter, none of it matters.

All I feel is want, want, want. All I can think is now, now, now.

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