Chapter 20 #2
His hands move to his belt, unbuckling as if he has all the time in the world, as if I’m not desperate to set my eyes on what’s beneath the fabric, every second stretched thin by intent.
When he finally frees himself, he opens his trousers and releases his rock-hard cock with a boldness that steals my breath.
I don’t mean to gasp. Don’t mean for my mouth to water.
But the sheer size of him is breathtaking.
I thought I understood what it would be like when I felt him against me in my bed, but this is different. Harder. More commanding. Smooth and pale, threaded with veins.
“We do not have to do anything you do not want,” he says. “If this is all you need…”
Before he can say another word, I grasp his cock with both hands.
His eyes flare. His breath hitches. His head falls back against the barn wall as I move my hands up and down him at a slow rhythm. Frost threads through his exhale, a low sound tearing from his chest as control slips.
He groans when I quicken my pace, his gaze flicking between my face and the ruthless grip I have on the delicious girth of him.
“I have not been touched like that for a very long time, Neve Devlin,” he says, jaw tight, voice strained.
“Do you want me to stop?” I breathe.
Moonlight spills through the high barn window, bathing me in cold blue light. My nightgown turns nearly transparent, my nipples pink and almost painfully hard beneath the thin fabric.
He shakes his head. “Don’t you fucking dare.” His voice drops. “But it isn’t fair that I don’t get to touch you. Not when it’s all I’ve thought about since I woke that morning and found you in my arms. Not when I’m desperate to have the scent of you on my fingers.”
His hands grip my knees, firm and possessive, before sliding beneath my nightgown and traveling up my thighs.
I am acutely aware of him, of exactly where those fingers are headed, but I refuse to lose focus. I keep my pace steady, then push it faster, my hands sliding along his shaft, feeling it throb in my palms.
Then I feel a flash of warmth.
I am certain of it, right there in my fists, and for a split second he jerks as if he feels it too. But he does not stop. One hand tightens on my upper thigh, holding me open, while the other slides between my legs without hesitation.
My breath hitches as he cups me, his large hand fitting me with frightening ease. His fingers straighten, then curve, gliding along me until the sound that slips from my mouth is soft and helpless.
When he hears it, the smug grin that blooms on his face ignites something competitive inside me. A need to prove that I am not the only one blinded by this hunger. To show him that he is just as bound to it as I am.
I squeeze his cock harder.
He answers with a low, breathless sound, and the way it hits me only sends my pulse racing faster.
His finger trails along me again, teasing, skimming the edge of bliss without ever delivering, and without meaning to, I start to grind against his hand, chasing what he is so clearly intent on denying me.
“There she is,” he mutters. “I don’t know why you tried to play so innocent. The Fae don’t bother with such facades.”
My teeth grit. “Well, I am not Fae,” I say curtly.
My defiance only seems to arouse him.
“I know.”
And then, without warning, a finger slips inside me.
I gasp, eyes stinging, my bottom lip clenched between my teeth as I keep jerking his cock. I look at him through the blur of sensation, and the expression on his face isn’t smug. It isn’t hunger. It’s disbelief.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs. “And warm. So fucking warm.”
Another finger slips inside me. He moves them slowly, in and out as I grind against him, my hands still gliding along his magnificent shaft. His free hand leaves my thigh, slides to the back of my neck, and pulls me down to his mouth.
He kisses me, long and deep, moving against my hand just as I move against his, until we find a rhythm that has us both moaning into each other’s mouths.
He’s right. I’m wet. I’m warm.
But so is he. The color blooming beneath his skin, blush pink breaking through the frigid pallor.
Blue veins flush darker, his lips bitten red.
He drags my mouth back to his, kisses me hard, then trails his mouth down along my jaw, my chin, his fist tightening in my hair as he pulls my head back just enough to bare the column of my throat.
“Neve,” he groans, lips pressed to my neck. “I can feel your heat building. I can smell you. It’s so fucking sweet.”
His thumb presses against my swollen nerve, and I whimper.
“Let go,” he murmurs. “For once, let go. I want to feel the heat of you running over my skin.”
I groan, gripping his cock tighter, working from the thick base to the swollen tip in long, lavish strokes, refusing to be outdone.
“I want the same,” I breathe. “All of you.”
His mouth seals to my neck. I feel the scrape of his teeth just before his body jerks as he releases, and at the same time his fingers plunge deeper inside me, his thumb strumming me in a way that shatters whatever control I had left.
I come undone above him.
I collapse forward, his head buried against my chest, my hands tangling in his hair, gripping at the roots just to stay upright through the aftershocks of it. He eases his fingers out of me, his hands moving to rest on my hips, his breath heavy, lifting me with every deep exhale.
The barn settles around us. Our breathing slowly steadies. Snow whispers against the roof outside.
When the tension finally unravels, when we’ve sated ourselves in something neither of us could ignore, what’s left isn’t relief.
It’s uncertainty.
The sharp awareness of the line we’ve just crossed.
I’m about to speak, something close to what happens now already on my tongue when he breathes against my skin.
“If this is how you show gratitude to your master,” he says lightly, “a simple thank you would have sufficed.”
My stomach churns. Disgust rises fast, burning its way up my throat.
He chuckles, his hands still rubbing my hips as I lean back and slap him hard in the face.
He turns from the impact, though he probably barely felt it. “Neve. I was joking.”
No, he wasn’t.
He doesn’t joke.
“There was truth in it, and you know it.”
I shove away his hands and lift myself off him, rising onto unsteady feet, smoothing my nightgown with hands that still tremble. Behind me, I hear the muted clink of metal as he re-buckles his pants.
He grumbles, irritation edging his voice. “In a moment of stupidity, I said something stupid. You don’t need to storm off.”
I snap around, eyes narrowing. “No. In a moment of comfort, you said something cruel, and whether you are a Fae lord or a lowly human like me, you do not deserve my company.”
He goes silent.
He rises from the hay only to his knees as I climb down the ladder. I land in the mud, the hem of my nightgown darkening with filth, but it’s the least of my concerns.
I don’t look back.
I hurry from the barn, pull the door shut behind me, and slip back into my little house. My father snores softly in his room as I pass, oblivious to everything I’ve just done.
In my own room, I crawl into bed without changing, dirt and all, staring up at the ceiling.
Trying to decide whether that was the most passionate night of my life or the worst mistake I’ve ever made.