Page 142 of Sweetling
They needed to get up.
Sure, the house could handle it, but as the new Lord and Lady Scarborough, they should really be good hosts at their first gathering.
But Molly couldn’t help it, going for just a little more of him. A year before, she wouldn’t have thought it possible to be with a person for so much of her time and still want more. They spent nearly every hour together, often just the two of them, and yet she never grew tired or bored of him. There was always something new or charming about him, something that kept her so utterly in love with her strange fae.
She couldn’t quite say what it was about him—and really, she didn’t want to know. The mystery was part of the charm. And, it wasn’t just one thing. It was everything, every bit of him that made him Allarion.
She loved his compassion and kindness, she loved his dry sarcasm and cutting wit, she loved his grumpiness and surliness and bossiness. She loved that he took such care of her, and she loved taking care of him, too. Getting to hold him in her arms and her heart was the greatest honor of her life, and even if she struggled to put that into words for him, she knew he knew. She loved that, too.
Their stomachs rumbled for breakfast and they were sticky with this morning and last night’s lovemaking and their guests would arrive in a few short hours, but none of that stopped Molly from pushing her fae to his back. Allarion went willingly, one of his fine brows arching in interest.
Swinging a leg over his hips, Molly mounted her handsome fae, taking his cock in her hand. Still wet with their spends, her hand glided up and down, up and down with ease.
Molly caught her bottom lip between her teeth and guided him inside. He held her hips for balance as she sank down, and they both groaned with relief to come together.
Setting her hands on his glorious chest, she began to move. He’d put meat on his bones over the past months, muscle and bulk from good food and hard work. No longer were his ribs prominent or his hipbones sharp. He’d always been beautiful, but like this, Allarion was magnificent. And he was hers.
Molly snapped her hips down on his, taking her fae for the ride she wanted, hard and brutal and delicious. He smiled that fierce smile, fangs flashing in the sunlight, long hair mussed and spread over the pillows.
He pulled her back down to him as she bounced on his cock, holding her there when she stopped to swirl her hips. The tendons in his neck popped against his throat, and Molly leaned down to lick the hot skin there. His big hands filled with her backside, and their rhythm turned frantic, brutal.
Molly loved every second.
She came in no time at all, spread thighs quivering as the pleasure rolled from head to toe and back again. He didn’t give her time to come down, though, but held her by the waist, thrusting up from below. Their slick and spend dripped down onto his thighs, glistening in the morning light.
Molly held on for the ride of her life, a smile so wide on her face it almost hurt as she orgasmed again. Catching one of his hands, she pressed it against her breast and squeezed around his cock, wringing the pleasure from him in ropes of spend.
When she’d gotten every last drop and ounce and scrap of his pleasure and hers, Molly slumped onto his chest, ready for a nap. He bundled her into his arms and kissed her sweaty hair.
“My queen,” he rumbled happily.
Allarion pinned his stiff collar in place before stepping back to look over his appearance in the mirror. Many of his clothes had needed adjusting over the intervening months, but his Molly was clever, especially with her needle.
His black tunic molded to his chest as it used to, the seams perfect, the cut flattering. Most of all he enjoyed the newly added embroidery to the sleeves and shoulders. Along with his family crests and warrior insignia, she’d added motifs from their estate; trees and deer and even several unicorns. All were done in glossy midnight blue thread, so that it was visible only when the light gleamed across the stitching.
Hair drawn back with a velvet ribbon and capelet thrown over his left shoulder, he looked every bit the fae aristocrat his mother had raised, ready to greet guests into his home. There was but one thing missing.
Stalking back through his old bedchamber and into the brighter one he now shared with Molly, he found her nearly ready. The gown she’d chosen was all soft lilacs and powdery blues. It was more feminine than her usual attire, although she’d added her own embroidering and modifications. She’s told him she liked the color, as it reminded her of the color of his cheeks when he blushed.
Crossing the room to her, he said, “Let me.”
Molly pouted at him over her shoulder. “Why they ever put the laces in the back is beyond me.”
He rumbled in agreement, even if he quietly relished getting to tighten and tie her stays. There was something utterly alluring about lacing the strings and knotting the ends—especially knowing he’d get to untie them all that evening.
The back neckline swooped just below her shoulder blades, her freckles peeking out beneath her growing hair. Half fell down her back in soft waves while the other had been gathered elegantly atop her head.
When she tried to turn to face him, he placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her facing forward. From his pocket he pulled a white box.
Her hairstyle showed off the silver bobs in her ears, and Allarion took great pleasure in securing a matching necklace around her pretty throat. He heard her sharp breath when she felt the cool metal touch her skin, and she teased a fingertip over the pearls dangling from the silver chain as he secured the ribbons at her nape.
She glided to the tall mirror across the room, inspecting the necklace. It was a pretty thing, commissioned by one of his grandmothers. While not ostentatious, the silver filigree was exquisite and the pearls perfectly round.
Allarion grinned at her in the mirror when, rather than arguing it was too fine, Molly smiled at herself. His grin grew when she twirled, skirts fluttering as the dresser drawers opened and closed in applause. She giggled to herself as she came back to him, reaching to take the arm he offered her.
“Look at me, a proper lady,” she said.
Her beaming smile lit him from within. Leaning down to kiss her cheek, he told her, “You are just as you should be.”
