Page 39 of Fairies Never Fall

“Sit back,” I tell him.

16

LYSANDER

My lips feel like they belong to someone else. Ezra reaches for the hooks on my costume he fastened earlier. I’m floating. This must be it — I’m becoming fertile. With him.

I can’t wait.

He pauses when the hooks are undone. “Is this okay? I can’t exactly — it’s all one piece.”

Instead of answering, I peel the costume down my arms and eagerly push it off my hips.

“Oh,” Ezra says.

He drops to his knees and pushes my hands away from my ankles so he can tug the flimsy fabric free. Then I’m nude, the velvet of the couch suddenly ten times softer against my skin. I expect him to touch me again, but he grabs a blanket from the basket and drapes it over my shoulders.

Then he drops to his knees again and parts my thighs.

My face flames and I resist the urge to cover myself. Normally I’m completely smooth between my legs, everything hidden away. Lately I wake wet and tingling, with my slit exposed. Now it feels… open. Above it, my mound is swollen and hot.

Ezra sucks in a breath.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs.

Then he lowers his head, and the most amazing, warm, soft feeling comes over my slit, followed by a deep, intense heat.

I gasp. The noise that escapes me is shocked and rough.

Ezra groans between my thighs. “That’s it.”

His tongue comes out again and he licks me from the bottom of my slit all the way to where the swelling is. I shudder.

“You’re wet down here.” His tongue dances over it again and again, gentle and warm, yet somehow making my body burn. My chest tightens and I grip the edge of the couch restlessly.

“Ezra — !”

“I got you, baby.” He takes my wrists in both hands and holds them against the couch, as if he knows exactly what I need.

I settle. Being restrained makes everything blaze hotter. His mouth on me, his hands keeping me in place, his warm smell, his body between my legs — my head drops onto the back of the couch and a noise bursts out of me that’s louder than all the previous ones, to my distant embarrassment. Ezra growls. The vibration and the sudden way his tongue lashes me send waves of molten delight pulsing from my thighs all the way through my body. I convulse. I can’t breathe. I’m blooming, unfurling, becoming something new.

Ezra stops.

“Keep going!” I cry out, but his hands come off my wrists.

“Lysander,” he gasps.

I peel my reluctant eyes open, still riding the wave.

At the top of my slit, something peeks out. Long and slender, slightly curved, with a thick base and a slim tip, it emerges from the mound to point directly toward my face. A single bead of milky white liquid gathers at the tip and drips slowly onto my stomach. As Ezra’s mouth goes slack, another drop follows.

“You have a cock,” Ezra says.

I swallow. “You made me fertile.”

“Fuck.” He looks up at me. “Holy fuck, that’s so hot.”

He reaches for it. To my humiliation, my cock reaches back. It nudges into his palm without my permission. Strangely, I feel as if I can only control it a tiny bit.

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