Page 56 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“Violet roses,” I whisper.
She’s mid-orgasm, and from the screech that almost deafens me, far too sensitive to process the enchantment. That was the plan. I want her delirious, so she can’t think about the fae drawing closer. They’re watching. I know they are.
Who wouldn’t? My pet is perfect. She’s soaking my thighs, getting off on this as much as I am.
She’s alsomine. I growl the word over and over as I grip a handful of her ass and yank her down harder, chasing my own pleasure for a second time as Rose babbles and cries with my hand around her throat.
One day, maybe I’ll experiment with putting pressure there, restricting the blood flow to her brain and watching as the out-of-this world orgasm hits her. But she didn’t agree to that, and I’m mindful of the púca’s threats.
Watching the Fomorian endure Nathair venom was fun. Experiencing it myself? Nope. No, thank you.
Her spine flexes, her head falling back a second time, and I release her neck and grip both of her thighs, using the leverage to continue hammering into her poor, swollen pussy.
She’s got her eyes closed, and I take the time to look to my left, grinning at the sight of other redcaps who’ve also gotten caught up in the battle frenzy and joined in with the sexual carnage. I meet the eyes of those watching, letting them know that I see them. I know they’re getting off on their Nicnevin’s pleasure.
And they will never, ever get to touch her.
Then my eyes land on the bitch herself, looking disdainfully down her nose.
Hard copper eyes look down at us, unreadable save for the tiny crinkle of contempt between her brows.
I release Rose just long enough to flip Cressidick off, then switch so my thumb puts more pressure on my Nicnevin’s clit, aligning our marks at the same time.
Rose detonates, slumping against my chest in a puddle of well-satisfied female. This time, I let her take me over, too. My cock jerks like it’s trying to break free of her gripping cunt as fire streaks down my spine and bathes her insides. I massage herflesh wherever I can, peppering her face with kisses as she buries herself against me.
“Snuggles,” I murmur, dragging in heaving breaths of her scent mixed intoxicatingly with mine as my dick stops vibrating. “Goddess, pet. You’re everything.”
It’s true. She makes every single moment of my life before pale into obscurity. Best. Mate. Ever.
“Are they watching?” she whispers back, and the fact that I can hear her makes it clearer than ever that the battle is well and truly over.
“Your wolf is having a fun time snarling at anyone who stares for too long,” I promise her, even as my cap morphs into her favourite hooded poncho, covering the rips in her clothes.
There’s blood smeared across her skin and mine. Her hair is a mess, and she doesn’t seem quite as relaxed as I feel.
“Want me to kill anyone who looked?” It might take a while, but I’m a redcap with skills. Besides, when we’re done, she might let me do this all over again. “I can give you a necklace made of their eyeballs if you like. We can string them up, bake them down into beads and?—”
Rose silences me with a squeak and another stolen kiss, her cheeks burning with so much heat that it radiates across the short distance between us.
She might be embarrassed, but I’m not lying. I will happily murder thousands for the chance to repeat this.
Nineteen
Rhoswyn
We reappear in the Court of Blades, and I heave a sigh of relief.
I’ve never been as grateful for Lore’s magic as I am when it spares me from having to walk past whoever just watched us fuck in a puddle of blood and ash.
“Wimpiwort, a bath!” Lore yells, apparently assuming that the poor fae will hear him despite us being alone in his bedchamber. He pauses, and I chuckle as I watch him realise that the other redcap is probably in Elfhame with the rest of them.
“Be right back!” he says. “I’m sure someone somewhere is having a bath.”
He disappears, and I hug his poncho around me as I try to come to terms with what just happened.
I came—multiple times—in front of five armies, while people died all around me. My body is trembling with aftershocks of remembered pleasure. My knees are weak, and my toes are alittle numb, but my arms are covered in blood. I use the edge of Lore’s cap-poncho to wipe detachedly at the stains on my hands.
My mate was undoubtedly messier than me, but I think there’s some in my hair that his cap didn’t catch, and?—
