Page 25 of Gemini Christmas
Zephyr’s subtle sigh of satisfaction tickles my ear.
I turn my head to find his hungry mouth in a nutmeg kiss. I breathe in deep the mingled scents of burnt amber and vetiver—Dark Fae King and Goblin King. They’re my guys, both of them, no matter what kinda Christmas Eve fuckery this enchanted cottage might be cooking up.
Plus, thanks to Ash and Neo’s good work, now both my kings are nakey. Ash pads around our entwined bodies, dragging his own polar fleece over his head with one muscled arm, reaching for Neo with the other.
Beyond the spill of Zephyr’s green hair and the pointed tip of his Unseelie ear, I catch an incendiary glimpse of Ash’s corded back, angel wings tattooed across his sculpted shoulders and spreading down his spine. Firelight dances in his bristly pale hair like a crown of ice.
Which is fitting as fuck. Ash is the Light Fae Prince and one of my Gemini Kings. Yet he’s the most humble guy in this harem.
We all love that about him.
And I especially love how gently Ash tucks in behind Neo and starts working Neo out of his Christmas sweater. I know without asking that Ash will stay close to Neo all night, making sure our bookworm doesn’t overdo it. Taking care of him in all the best ways.
The same way he does for all of us.
Tall and pale and naked in the firelight, Vasili twines around Zephyr and me. His long pretty cock, jutting and rigid with arousal, nudges between us in a way that’s impossible to resist. Zephyr and I ease apart and reach for him in unison. Our fingers wrap together around the hot tensile column of Goblin King dick.
In perfect rhythm, slow and teasing, the two of us start jacking him.
Looming over both of us with the firelight behind him, there’s honestly no mistaking the shadowy horns that spiral over V’s head. His gilded head tilts back on a long moan. Sharp fangs peek between his parted lips.
The silky slither of braided tails grazes my bare legs. With a start, I glance down to find an unfamiliar flogger gripped loosely in V’s fist.
“What the fuck, Goblin King?” I blurt, more startled than alarmed. Because sex toys—including floggers—make a pretty regular appearance in our bed. “Where did that thing even come from?”
V’s head lowers to meet my gaze.
In the witchy twilight, his delicate mouth is painted black, which gives a harder, grittier edge to his punk-rock glamor than he typically opts for. Tough to tell in the dim light, but his pupils look slitted like a goat’s. Even his voice is raspier, like sandpaper, in place of his usual silky tenor.
“Part of your Krampus fantasy, one presumes,” Vasili growls. “A gift from the house. The tails are braided horsehair.”
“Of course they are,” I whisper. “He always carries a horsehair whip.”
Hemeaning Krampus.
Whose name I find I suddenly can’t speak.
V’s slitted gaze shifts to Zephyr and narrows. “You’ve amply shown you can swing a flogger, Your Transcendence. The question is, can you—or can younot—submit to a few licks yourself?”
An electric current of tension runs through Zephyr’s slim frame. That electric charge leaps from warlock to warlock like a spark in a stand of dry tinder.
I suck in a breath thick with my own pheromones, the creamy rose and peach of my mating scent.
Oh, fuck me.
I’m kicking out enough of that shit to send all my guys into a mating rut.
Zephyr eases from my side and prowls naked to the fire, moss-green hair swirling down his narrow back, taut buttocks flexing with every supple stride. Firelight laps his olive skin and brings every hard sinewed line of his dragon-honed build into sharp relief.
The entire room watches in spellbound silence.
Zephyr isn’t wearing his crown right now, obvi, but he’s every inch a king. Even Mordred stops kiss-fucking Lucius long enough to let our dazed headmaster surface for air with a gasp. Ronin, who’s dropped to his knees to unzip Max’s jeans with his teeth, turns his sleek dark head to stare at the Dark Fae King. Ronin’s amber eyes pulse with psi fire and burn with hunger.
Commanding our entire harem’s full attention without even trying, Zephyr plants his hands well apart on the mantle, leans into his spread arms, and settles his bare feet into a solid stance. Slowly his head turns to edge his feral profile and pointed ear against the dancing light.
“Vasili Nikolayevich Romanov.” Over his shoulder, Zephyr’s eye gleams with Dark Fae purpose. “Come you here with that scourge and try me. King to king. I dare thee.”
Chapter Eight
