Chapter 34 Silva #2
Rubbed her inner walls with the skill of a musician playing his favorite instrument, tapping against her G-spot until she’d come apart, as he did then.
His arm moved like a piston, three fingers within her, just enough stretch for her to tighten around, the whimper she made choked by the girth of him in her throat.
“Silva, I’m not coming in your mouth. I appreciate the effort, dove, but that’s not happening now. I already told you what we’re doing.”
Silva nearly gagged, pulling up, laughing. A line of drool connected her lip to his shiny tip. “The worst!”
She’d never not be startled by the speed at which he was able to flip them, finding herself on her knees, him kneeling behind her. Silva was grateful for the consideration. Her hair and makeup were already done, ready for what awaited that morning.
“I’m going to fill you up, Silva.” His voice was a hum at her skin, making her shiver. “I’m going to fill you like one of those little Elvish pastries, until you’re dripping. You belong to me.”
He knew exactly what she liked. Where to touch her, what pressure, how to shift his hips, how to give her the most pleasure. He always had. Tate kissed his way up her spine, teeth at her neck, a hand at her hips as he turned her face up with a finger beneath her chin, catching her lips in his.
“They don’t matter, Silva,” he whispered against her temple. “Nothing matters but us and our family.”
Her mouth dropped open as he fed his thick length into her, spreading her open, so tight at this angle that it nearly squeezed the air from her lungs.
The first forward thrust of his hips made her jolt, eyes fluttering shut, crying out on the third.
Tate pulled her up, her back flush against his body, letting her see their reflection in the mirror across the room.
She watched his hand cup her breast, rolling her nipple, pressing to her stomach, drifting up to caress her throat, skating down her body to bury itself in the cleft of her sex, two fingers trapping her clit as she moaned.
Her eyes rolled back, closing entirely as the room began to spin, like she was on a ride at the fair.
It was too much sensation. His cock filling her, moving within her, his fingers rolling over her, his teeth at her neck .
. . she gasped, eyes popping open when his teeth sank into her shoulder, in the same spot as the first time he’d bitten her, and her body clenched.
Silva fell forward, the mattress in that subpar hotel rushing up to meet her, halted by the arm around her, bracing himself on an elbow as his hips rocked into her twice, three times, his back arching on the fifth, groaning into her hair.
She imagined that she was able to feel every hot spurt within her.
“Now you can go stand before this bastard and his family. You belong to me, Silva.”
***
The number of people gathered was preposterous, she thought.
Tannar’s parents, of course, and his grandmothers.
The dowagers from brunch, and the rest of their families:Esta and Finnea, their mothers and husbands, Lucine, and the little boy whose name Silva could never remember.
Several other couples, friends of Tannar’s, and then Tannar himself.
His eyes widened when he saw her, and Silva thought he looked shocked.
Shocked that she had shown? Shocked that she had not come alone? She didn’t know, but she was irritated just the same.
Tannar’s mother cut through the crowd at full sail, dressed for the wedding they’d never had — pearls, her hair freshly set, unable to hide her giddy excitement over the thought of making Silva squirm throughout this.
“Silva. Thank you for coming today to make this official.” Her eyes slid over Tate. “And you brought . . . support. Where’s the little one?”
“Home,” Silva said flatly. “Why would I bring her to something like this?”
Tannar’s mother huffed, pulling back in offense at Silva’s tone. They were still expecting Silva of the Daytime, she understood. Sorry, she doesn’t work here anymore.
“We’ll be getting started soon.”
No reason why they weren’t starting now. The officiant was there. The family was gathered. Tannar was gaping at her like a fish. Dragging it on was purely meant to humiliate her more.
“Which is the langer who couldn’t make you orgasm?
” Tate didn’t bother with lowering his voice, his tone conversational, his hand still gripped tightly in hers, and at the small gasps and shocked expressions on Esta and Finnea’s faces, she knew without a doubt they had all heard.
“Ah, never mind, dove. I can already tell.”
When she turned into him to hide her face so that they wouldn’t see her silent laughter, Tate shrugged.
“The one gaping at me like he’s seen a ghost.”
Tannar’s family must have understood the message — the longer they wasted, the more they would have to hear the commentary from her support. The officiant climbed the steps, standing before the marble plinth holding the remnant of the cord that had bound their hands.
Tate ducked his head before she was forced to step away. “He’s probably gawking at the blood. It appears you’ve been bitten. Remember, dove. They don’t matter.”
***
They flew home immediately after the ceremony. Silva paused long enough to sign the document, not sparing anyone a backward glance on her way out the door, still gripping Tate’s hand in hers.
All in all, Silva considered, it could’ve been worse. All they needed to do was pick up Aelin from her parents’ house and put this day to bed.
Tate had already met her father.
Her mother had invited them to dinner on neutral ground, meeting at one of Cambric Creek’s finer establishments, while Dynah babysat Aelin for the evening.
Her father’s jaw had been clenched, his hand in a fist at the edge of the table .
. . until Tate had produced his own version of a wedding barter, informal at that point, and not technically something he even needed to give her parents.
That wasn’t the way Elvish marriages were negotiated, but he understood the position she was in.
Her parents were wrong, but they were acting in love. Silva understood. She was chagrined to realize, as an adult, just how specist her upbringing had truly been, something she was working on in therapy.
Like her mother, she knew her father would have never been pleased.
But it was too late — Aelin already existed, was loved and adored.
Tate providing a record of the businesses he owned, the properties in his name, both in Greenbridge Glen and across the sea, a stock portfolio, proof of savings, all added up, and she knew her father was mollified.
“Tell him what you did,” she encouraged that night, rolling her eyes.
Her parents would never be happy, but when her father learned that Tate had bought a house out from under Jack Hemming, he threw his head back and roared with laughter, continuing to chuckle throughout the night.
When the subject of her unbinding was brought up, they found new common ground, berating Tannar together.
Tate was the one to relay how appallingly gauche the ceremony had been as they picked up Aelin, how disrespectful, how tacky.
Her parents would never be happy, but her father had never had the opportunity to agree with someone more.
They were back in their bed, curled around their little girl by dinnertime, watching an animated movie about a swan who was secretly a princess. Aelin was tucked to Silva’s chest, Tate curled around her back, playing with Silva’s hair.
“If I barter for your hand, Silva of Cleghorn Crook, would you say yes?”
She looked up at the unexpected question, tears instantly forming.
“Yes. I would say yes.”
Aelin giggled at the movie when his head bent, his lips meeting Silva’s upturned face.
Are you family? Of course, we are.
***
“Mommy! Something’s going to eat you!”
Silva paused at the bottom of the staircase, glancing back over her shoulder with a grin.
“Tell her it’s going to eat her eyes first,” she could hear Tate whispering to Aelin.
“Mommy! It’s going to . . .ew! No, it’s not!”
Silva laughed, hearing Tate chuckle at the top of the steps. A moment later, his footfalls on the wooden staircase leading into the cellar.
“I told you I was only going to be a minute,” she chastised, popping open the cat food tin.
Cat food, a bowl of water, and a sleeve of crackers.
She had no idea if the boggart in the basement had kept its word to her, not that it ever given it to begin with, but Silva liked to imagine that it had.
He had found his way home to her. The least she could do was bring a tin of cat food to the basement every time they were here.
“Your milkshake is melting,” Tate informed her.
“And I know a wee miss who’s going to drink it for you.
” He turned back up the staircase, Aelin clinging to his back, pausing after just a few steps to glance back at her.Silva turned, glancing back to the dark side of the basement, where she heard a telltale scratching sound.
“You look lost, little dove.”
She turned back to where they waited, sticking her tongue out. “Not lost. Just deciding . . Which of your milkshakes am I going to drink first when I beat you upstairs?” She pushed past them, taking the steps two at a time as Aelin squealed indignantly and Tate laughed.
Not lost all. Are you family? Of course, we are. Forever.