Page 72 of Crown of Roses
“That…scent.” His finger tilted her chin up, forced her to meet his hungry gaze, and his nostrils flared. “I can smell your arousal, and it’s the sweetest, most tempting thing.”
Maeve swallowed and he watched her throat work. “I might be feeling…somewhat hot and bothered at the moment.”
And it was true. Oh stars, was it true. Her skin was heated and each movement, each brush of his touch against her, made her want to peel off every layer of clothing until she was flush and naked against him.
Rowan hauled her to him, and his mouth met hers in a clash of lust. Their tongues lashed one another, ravenous and starving. Sucking and nibbling. His palms skimmed up her hips, to her waist, before settling right beneath her breasts. Teeth scraped her bottom lip, and her head lolled back, granting him access to her neck. To anything he wanted. Calloused thumbs brushed over her peaked nipples, back and forth, and the rub of lace left her quivering. She memorized the press of his lips against the column of her throat.
He twirled her away from him, pressed her backside into every solid inch of him. The length of his stiff cock burrowed into the small of her back, and she melted against him. One possessive hand slid across her abdomen, and the other gently cupped her throat. His fingers danced along her jittery pulse while he stroked the underside of her jaw with his thumb. The movement was slow and gentle, and Maeve sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, unable to keep herself from grinding against him.
“Tell me,” he purred, allowing his hand to dip lower, beneath the layered velvet of her skirt.
Maeve held her breath.
“Do you like to watch?”
Rowan’s voice was a tremor in her soul. But the darkest part of her was ready and willing to admit how much she enjoyed the show. Not only did the sexual appetite swelling to a crescendo within the Autumn Court captivate her, but the way none of the fae seemed to care fascinated her. Here, where the heartbeat of magic was its most primal, most passionate, was where hundreds of fae could deign masks for a night and live with heedless inhibitions.
“It’s…not what I expected.” With painstaking slowness, his warm fingers crept closer, sliding along her thigh to where she pulsed for him. And the moment they swept across her damp heat, she strained against his hand in a silent plea for more. He rubbed the bundle of nerves at her center, teasing and taunting, and her entire body clenched, ready to burst.
“Rowan,” she gasped, his name nothing more than a panting whisper to be absorbed by the rhythm of music engulfing them. “What if someone sees?”
His tongue flicked along her ear. “Then let them see. What have you to hide?”
“My decency as a mortal?” Shivers cooled her hot skin as a chilly autumn breeze swept through the Autumn Ceilie. She angled her head back and turned her face to his neck. “The mere fact that I’m still innocent seems reason enough.”
“Indeed.” Rowan snared her wrist and lured her behind a crumbling stone wall covered with cool moss and pale yellow flowers. Locked in the shadows of the night, with the faint flicker of bonfire flames, he tucked her away from prying eyes.
Music filled her ears and overwhelmed her pounding heart. Coldness seeped through the lace of her top as he pressed her up against the wall and reached for her legs.
“Wait.” She grabbed his shoulders and he froze.
“What?” His voice was rough and thick. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Maeve shook her head and pressed her lips together, struggled to find her courage. “No, I’m not hurt. But last time…”
“Last time, what?”
She forced herself to meet his consuming gaze. She wouldn’t blink. She wouldn’t look away. She wanted to know, and more importantly, she wanted to learn. “Last time, I found pleasure and you didn’t.”
“Well.” His grin was positively wicked. “I wouldn’t say that—”
“You know what I mean.” Her hands slid from his shoulders, to his biceps, down to his forearms. There, the muscles flexed and bunched. Strong. Capable. “I want you to show me.”
“What?” Rowan choked on the word, and his eyes widened.
“Show me,” she pleaded. She gestured to his cock protruding against the swath of fur draped around his waist. “Teach me how to pleasure you. Please.”
An emotion passed over his face and then it was gone. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.” Maeve looked up at him from underneath her fluttering lashes. “I am.”
She didn’t wait for his response. She just reached down between them, and slipped her hand under the tuft of decorative fur. He sprang free and she tried terribly to hold back her surprise, because he was far larger than any of the diagrams or pictures in the books she’d read. Fascinated, her fingers coiled around the silky length of him and then she squeezed. Once.
Rowan groaned. His hands slammed against the wall, causing her stomach to clench, and bits of rock tumbled down on either side of her head. Her breath echoed in the emptiness of her chest, and his forehead came to rest against hers. “Watch yourself, Princess.” His voice was deep. Cavernous. “You know not what you do.”
“Then show me.” Maeve rose up on her toes and let her hand move up and down his shaft. She planted a kiss on the underside of his jaw, at the base of his throat. His answering growl made her toes curl, and she squeezed again.
“Fuck.”
