Page 19 of Fleshbound
Corven lifted his other hand and rubbed his thumb over Quill’s lower lip. “I cannae stop thinkin that yer mine, Quillie. That the curse was broken… because o ye.”
“If it’s indeed broken.”
“Donnae be sayin that,” Corven said. “I’ve no been free o that book in two millennia. I’ve been free o it for near tree months from the sound o it.” He brushed his lips across Quill’s. “Because o ye.”
“Or maybe it was because ofyou,”Quill whispered.
“Me? If I were capable o that, I’d have been free for longer than tree months.”
“You forced me to leave. You sacrificed for my freedom, willing to be alone versus trap me there with you. Because I… I sense… I meant something to you.”
Corven’s face softened. “O course ye dae.”
“Maybethatbroke the spell.”
Corven scoffed. “Doesnae matter. Had I no met ye, then there’d have been no sacrificing anything. Ye mere existence freed me.” He brushed his lips against Quill’s. “I’ll spend the rest o ma days thankin ye for it.” He quickly glanced over his shoulder. “I’d much appreciate thankin ye in bed, if ye donnae mind.”
“Just like a man. All he can think about is sex,” Quill muttered, lifting a brow.
“And ye are a man, too, so I ken wha’s in yer head.”
Quill chuckled, peeling out of his light linen jacket and tossing it aside before attacking his bowtie.
Corven didn’t take long to follow suit. He was wearing a kilt—which showed off his handsome legs.
“Leave the kilt on,” Quill whispered. “Just take off everything under it.”
“A true Scotsman doesnae wear anything under his kilt, laddie.”
Corven lifted it as proof.
Quill took two steps closer and dropped to his knees in front of Corven. He grasped the root of him and licked the tip like a lollypop.
Corven groaned, reaching for the nearby doorway. “Oh, laddie… be careful with that wicked tongue of yers.”
“Wicked tongue?” Quill asked, sure his wasn’t wicked at all. He licked Corven from root to tip just to see. “I’m not wicked.”
“Ye might no be, but tha tongue?” Corven chuckled. “Tha tongue surely is.”
Quill smiled to himself before drawing the entire length as far down his throat as he could. He slurped and sucked Corven, tasting a little salty-sweetness that spurred him to suckle a little harder.
“No wicked ma arse,” Corven complained as he threaded one hand through the hair at the back of Quill’s head.
He urged Quill’s pace a bit faster, moving his hips to feed his shaft in and out. After a few more seconds of that attention, he pulled from Quill’s mouth.
Quill frowned, wiping a bit of saliva from the side of his mouth. “Did I do that wrong?”
“As if there’s a wrong way tae dae it.” Corven snorted. “Well, I suppose teeth can be wrong, but no worries, laddie. Ye didnae use teeth.” He knelt, smiling. “I did ye wrong an I should be the one givin pleasure, no takin it.”
“Did me wrong?”
“I considered keepin ye in ma prison, Quill!”
“Because you loved me and wanted to be with me,” Quill replied.
“Oh,” Corven said, grinning even wider. “I love ye, do I?”
Quill’s face went from warm to lava flow in a matter of seconds. He attempted to back out of what he’d said, but feared it was too late. “I meant… you had… feelings. Of some kind. I didn’t necessarily mean it was love, but maybe… lust… or aflicker of… admiration, at the least. I can’t tell you what was going through your mi?—”
