Page 32 of Accidentally Ever After
“Can you blame me?” I asked, gesturing to his glowing form. “You look like a god.”
His eyes darkened at the compliment, the violet deepening to that indigo that indicated desire. “And you,” he said, stepping closer, “look like a star fallen to earth.”
His fingers traced one of the painted patterns on my chest, and the contact sent a shock of pleasure through me far more intense than it should have been. I gasped, my body arching into his touch.
“Sensitive,” he murmured, echoing my earlier observation about his wings.
“Very,” I admitted, my voice already husky with desire. “Everything feels… more.”
“That is the gift of the festival,” he said, continuing his exploration of the patterns decorating my skin. “Heightened sensation, deepened connection.” His eyes met mine, suddenly serious despite the otherworldly glow. “I can think of no one I would rather share it with.”
The simple sincerity in his voice touched something deep within me. Over the past weeks, what had begun as an accidental arrangement had evolved into something I could no longer deny was real affection—perhaps even more than affection.
“Me neither,” I admitted, reaching up to trace the glowing patterns on his chest. “I’m glad I’m here. With you.”
His smile was radiant, his wings extending fully in obvious joy. Then he was pulling me against him, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that literally sparked where our painted skin connected, tiny flashes of light dancing between us.
I gasped against his lips, startled by the phenomenon. “What was that?”
“The star essence recognizing its kin,” he explained, his hands sliding down my back, leaving trails of light wherever he touched. “We carry fragments of the same star.”
The idea was both bizarre and romantic—that some cosmic force had matched us not just through fairy matchmakers but through the stars themselves. I was too far gone on paint euphoria and star magic to question it, especially when Caelen’s mouth returned to mine with renewed hunger.
We sank onto the cushioned ground, hands exploring with increasing urgency. Each touch of his fingers against my painted skin sent cascades of pleasure through me, the patterns lighting brilliantly at his contact. When he removed my minimal festival clothing, exposing all the painted patterns to the night air, the sensation intensified further—as if my skin had become one huge erogenous zone.
“Caelen,” I gasped as his mouth traced a painted spiral around my nipple. “It’s too much.”
“Too much pleasure?” he asked, pausing to look up at me with concern.
“No, just… overwhelming,” I tried to explain. “Like I might fly apart.”
Understanding dawned in his expression. “Ah. The first convergence can be intense.” His hand stroked soothingly down my side. “Focus on me. On us. Let the rest fade to background.”
I tried to follow his advice, focusing on his face, his touch, rather than the overwhelming sensory input from the paint and star essence. Gradually, the chaotic sensations resolved intosomething more manageable—still intensely pleasurable but no longer threatening to overwhelm me.
“Better?” he asked, watching me carefully.
“Much,” I confirmed, pulling him down for another kiss.
This time when our painted skin connected, the sparks of light seemed to flow between us rather than flash and dissipate, creating patterns of their own that lingered in the air around us. It was beautiful and surreal, like making love inside a living painting.
Caelen’s hands and mouth continued their exploration of my body, each contact drawing new patterns of light and sending waves of pleasure through me. When he reached the painted patterns that swirled around my groin and inner thighs, the intensity ratcheted up again, making me cry out.
“The most sensitive areas receive the most responsive paint,” he explained, his breath hot against my skin. “An intentional design.”
“Of course it is,” I managed breathlessly as his tongue traced a glowing spiral on my inner thigh. “Fairy sex magic. Why am I not surprised?”
His laugh vibrated against my skin, adding yet another layer of sensation. “Not magic,” he corrected. “Science. The paint contains compounds that interact with nerve endings.”
“Debating semantics while your mouth is that close to my dick is really not—” My sentence cut off in a gasp as he demonstrated exactly how little the distinction mattered by taking me into his mouth.
The wet heat combined with the paint’s effects was mind-blowing, pleasure so intense it bordered on too much. My hands found his shoulders, painted fingers leaving trails of light where they gripped him.
His wings extended fully as he pleasured me, the membranes catching the ambient light and refracting it in hypnotic patterns. I reached for one, needing to touch him as he was touching me.
The contact drew a moan from him, the vibration adding to my pleasure. His wing trembled under my fingers, the painted patterns there lighting brilliantly at my touch.
He released me after several minutes of exquisite torture, crawling back up my body to claim my mouth again. The taste of myself on his lips combined with the paint’s euphoria was dizzying.
