Page 15 of Accidentally Ever After
“Another fairy lesson?” I teased.
“Of sorts,” he replied with a smile that promised delicious things.
He shifted, stretching out beside me on the wide couch, then guided me to turn on my side so my back was to his chest. One arm slipped beneath me, the other wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His wings extended, one draping over us like a living blanket.
“In my culture,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear, “this position is called the ‘sheltering embrace.’ It is considered deeply intimate—a position of trust and protection.”
The feeling of being completely enveloped by him—his body warm against my back, his arm secure around me, his wing creating a private world for just the two of us—was incredibly powerful. I felt simultaneously protected and possessed.
“It’s nice,” I said inadequately, unable to fully articulate how it made me feel.
“It gets better,” he promised, his voice velvet-soft against my ear.
His free hand began to explore my chest and stomach with deliberate slowness, mapping each dip and curve with attentive fingers. When he brushed a nipple, I gasped, arching into the touch. He took the cue, circling the sensitive bud with his thumb until it hardened.
“You are responsive,” he observed, satisfaction evident in his voice.
“And you’re a tease,” I countered breathlessly.
I felt rather than saw his smile against my shoulder. “Patience is valued among my kind. Pleasure savored is pleasure heightened.”
“Is that in the fairy rulebook too?” I asked, then gasped as his teeth grazed my earlobe.
“Page forty-seven,” he murmured, his hand continuing its maddening exploration of my torso.
His wing shifted against me, the sensitive membrane brushing against my bare skin in a way that made both of us shudder. The dual sensation—his hands on my front, his wing caressing my back—was overwhelming.
“Caelen,” I breathed, not sure what I was asking for.
He seemed to understand nonetheless. His hand drifted lower, fingers toying with the waistband of my jeans. “May I?” he asked, his voice strained with restraint.
“Yes,” I managed, lifting my hips slightly to give him better access.
With nimble fingers, he unfastened my jeans and slipped his hand inside, over my boxers. When his palm pressed against my erection, I couldn’t suppress a moan, my hips bucking instinctively.
“So eager,” he said, a note of wonder in his voice.
“It’s been a while,” I admitted. “And you’re… well, you.”
He made a pleased sound, his hand beginning to move in slow, deliberate strokes over the fabric. “Tell me how you like to be touched,” he encouraged.
The request, so direct yet so intimate, made my face heat. “I… um…”
“Show me,” he suggested, taking my hand and guiding it to join his.
Together, we established a rhythm—my hand over his, showing him the pressure and pace I preferred. Even through the fabric of my boxers, the sensation was intense, heightened by the feeling of his wing still draped over us, occasionally shifting against my skin.
“More,” I gasped after several minutes of this exquisite torture. “I need…”
In response, Caelen tugged at my jeans and boxers. I lifted my hips, helping him work them down my thighs. The feeling of being partially undressed while he remained mostly clothed added another layer of intensity to the moment.
When his hand wrapped around me, skin to skin, I nearly came on the spot. His touch was cool at first but quickly warmed, his grip perfect—firm but not too tight, his rhythm steady and devastating.
“Is this good?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.
“God, yes,” I groaned, my head falling back against his shoulder. “So good.”
As he stroked me, his wing began a more deliberate movement against my back—a caress that matched the rhythm of his hand. The dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building from two directions at once.
