Page 133 of Amidst the Insidious Courts
As he says it, he drags the shimmering purple fabric down until my breast falls free, then dips his head to suck at my nipple until I squirm.
So good. But anyone could see…
“What if someone’s in here?” I hiss, scandalised.
“Do you think we have time for a quickie before the huntsman tracks us down?” he asks, ignoring my question. “Remember now, no screaming in the library.”
Shoving my hand against my mouth is my only answer as he nips at the rapidly hardening bud and then sucks again, harder this time. A bolt of desire arcs through me, making me tense as he rocks against me. The line of him presses hard against my clit as I tangle my free hand into his white hair and try my hardest not to moan.
“Ungh!”
I freeze.
“I said quiet,” Lore teases, then frowns as I shove us apart and start desperately shoving my breasts back into the dress.
“Lore… that wasn’t me,” I hiss.
Another muffled cry splits the library, followed by the dull thump of books collapsing.
Lore’s brows rise.
“Let them watch,” he pleads. “Let them hear me making you come all over my cock.”
For a moment, I honestly consider it, and my pussy pulses, letting me know that my body, at least, is down for the idea. Then sensible Rose returns.
It could be Eero himself, for all I know. Aiyana may have used her pleasure as a power move, but I’m not quite at the point where I’m comfortable doing so.
“I’m not ready for that… yet.”
Lore’s eyes flash with something that looks a little like surprise before he breaks out into a new grin. Stepping back, he brushes his hand along the shelves, catching motes of my dust, which he then sprinkles carefully onto his cap. That done, he offers me his hand with a bow.
“Care to investigate what kind of deviants are using the palace library for their illicit liaisons?”
Before I can say anything to stop him, he’s dragging me between the shelves. We both stop short as we’re instantly confronted by two familiar people locked in a passionate embrace in a book-lined alcove on the far side of the room.
I’m not surprised to find the telltale green hair and the matching shimmering scales of Cyreus here, but the silver-clad female he has pressed up against the desk with her legs in the air is none other than…
“Princess Ciara?”
His hand has rucked up her skirt, palm splayed possessively over an opalescent tattoo on her outer thigh.
At my words, they break apart, shoving away from one another so hastily that Ciara almost falls off the desk before she manages to right herself.
“Nicnevin,” she gasps, still trying to catch her breath.
“You’re mated?” Lore coughs, staring at the tattoo on her thigh without shame as she hastily tugs the tight fabric of her skirt down to cover it.
That’s what those marks are? Mating marks? I’ve never seen them in person before, and a surge of longing hits me out of nowhere.
What would my males look like with mine across their skin? Do they appear randomly, or do I get to choose? Curiosity derails me for a second before I realise what this means.
“You’ve mated an under fae,” I whisper, staring between the crown princess and the merrow with wide-eyed shock.
The blatant fear on her face confirms it. Lore has accidentally dragged us into the middle of something we weren’t supposed to see. Does anyone else know? Does Máel? Her father?
In a court that seems to despise high fae-under fae unions, this kind of secret could ruin both of them. Stupidly… I don’t want to see that happen. The merrow is a good male, from what I’ve seen. He’s always been respectful in our lessons and has indulged my endless curiosity about the underwater homes of the fae so many times with a patience that not many possess.
“Nicnevin… I… It’s not what it looks like.” Cyreus is busy buttoning up his trousers, his cheeks flushed a deep bottle green with embarrassment. “The Princess and I were…”
