Page 44 of Vines of the Underworld

He’s on me instantly, his body aligned with my back, mercilessly pressing me against the tree bark. The rough surface scratches my face and teases my hardened nipples. Dairell nuzzles my neck curve, murmurs, "Should it be pleasure or pain?" and then closes his gloved hand around my throat.

The barely leashed power humming beneath his smooth, bronzed skin rings alarm bells, and I tense up for flight or fight. This power made my ancestors leave offerings at stone altars, cross themselves and spit when strange shapes twirled the darkness; put tiny bowls of milk and cookies at their doorsteps.

The concoction of terror and arousal is so intoxicating that I’m grateful for the firm tree trunk he presses me against.

I arch my back into him, my ass shamelessly rubbing against his hips. This male is the sweetest, deadliest poison I have ever tasted.

"I say let's try a little bit of both," the prince hisses and bites my earlobe. His hand travels below my navel to my panties, which are already embarrassingly soaked.

The feeling of the soft leather covering his fingers, spreading my folds, blurs all my senses. The world ceases to exist except for this aching, mind-numbing need that almost makes me howl. I’m starved for his touch, I realize, in an unnatural, feral way. Is it the magic in my blood responding to his power? Or is it his imposing presence, sculpted body, and face of a fallen angel?

Tantalizingly slow, his finger circles my nub, and I take sharp, ragged breaths, his hand still around my throat.

His attention shifts to my slit now, his digits lazily tracing it. I shudder in his hold, feeling his brutal arousal pressing against my backside. Sweet Lord, how big is this male?

"Tell me what you want, Celeste," Dairell whispers, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity along my spine. I grind against him, hoping that this will answer his question. The mind-blowing teasing continues, and I know I will scream if he doesn't penetrate me soon.

"Which part of me do you want inside you?" His hand squeezes my neck, and I part my lips. He stares at them under thick black lashes, "Can you take my tongue?" Before I can confirm, his mouth consumes me. It is a deep, ravishing kiss, his forked tongue whipping and twisting around mine. I squirm in his firm grip, and he finally releases me. A low growl of pleasure reverberates from his chest and vibrates down my spine.

"Who would have thought that humans are so delicious… "

The enthralling circles around my slit continue, and I angle my hips, struggling against him, trying to impale myself on his digit.

Dairell smirks, "Do you want more of me, Celeste?" the tip of his finger is inside me, and I cannot help but think how soaked his glove is right now, "How much exactly can you take?” he murmurs, and he’s knuckle-deep inside me, drawing moans from me with each stroke. Then he suddenly removes himself and spins me around. My body protests at his retreat, and my legs almost buckle.

A swift move, a rip of cloth, and I feel the cool air on my nipples. The prince stares at my bare breasts; his eyes appear almost black in the eerie light of the wisps floating above us, hungry.

Something feral flashes across his face as he lowers his head and roughly gropes my breast. He squeezes it painfully, my flesh red from his grip, and I sense his hot, forked tongue circle my pebbled nipple. He pushes me against the tree, kicks my legs apart, and dips two fingers in my aching opening. This is more than I can take. The glide of his silky tongue over my sensitive flesh, his rhythmic movements stroking me on the inside. I’m about to fall apart, and he notices it. His turquoise gaze flashes predatorily, shaded by his black eyelashes.

"Not so greedy, little doll, not so fast, "He releases me and takes a step back, drinking in the sight of me naked, his fragile human toy, ready to submit to him.

"Now you will do exactly as I say," he commands, his voice low and dangerous. I nod eagerly. Do I have a choice? Do I want to have a choice?

"I want to see you open and aching for me, begging me to have you." Something in his tone makes my hairs rise, just like the rustling in the prehistoric night alerted my predecessors. Dairell grabs a fist of my hair and forces me to my knees, his other hand fumbling with the straps of his pants. I gasp when his aggressive erection is just an inch away from my face, and he strokes his massive member with his gloved hand. His cock, almost the size of my forearm, dripping, silky skin stretched over thick, bulging veins, inches closer to my lips. Gloved fingers wrap around my throat and squeeze.

"Open your mouth, Celeste, I know you want a taste. I’ve seen how you look at me." I obey, and he brutally enters me, making me choke.

"Now you will take it deep, like a good girl," Dairell rumbles while he mercilessly fucks my mouth. Then he suddenly releases me, and the tip of his boot nudges me to the ground. The dried leaves crunch beneath my weight, and I squirm when he commands, "Open your legs."

I obey. My open labia and dripping pink entrance are at his mercy. God help me, will I survive this?

He lets out a hissing breath, his broad chest heaving, his muscles tense for a leap. So, this is what an antelope sees before it gets its throat ripped out.

"They will tear you apart, consume you, and then fuck your cold corpse," I remember his warning, and his blood-chilling reminder that he is no different.

My thoughts are interrupted by a flash of white fangs. Suddenly I feel his weight against my thighs. His forked tongue is at my clit, encircling it, squeezing it into a maddening caress, then snaking down, feasting on each curve of my open folds. He tastes every rim before dipping inside me, and I arch my back, my mouth open in a wordless plea.

Can you die from too much pleasure? Probably, I might burst a blood vessel, or get an aneurysm, or—

This is the old Celeste speaking. The neglected, bullied, frightened girl, who has always made herself small to avoid attention. The new Celeste is full of magic and surprises. She can drive into a frenzy the most powerful Fae and gladly trades power for pleasure.

The prince lifts his head and smirks, "That's how I wanted you, Celeste, open and ready for me. What do you want me to do now?"

I try to gather my thoughts and answer, but sharp pain causes me to freeze—he has slapped my most sensitive spot, "Answer when I ask you, Celeste, what do you want me to do to you now?" the second of hesitation earns me another slap.

"I want you…" I mumble, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Yes?" Dairell inquires, black brows dangerously furrowed. His mighty wings hover over us like a magical canopy.

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