Chapter 4 #2
I lift my arms to help him pull the nightgown over my head, but as the silk slides upward, it snags on my wings. We both freeze.
Everyone knows what exposed wings during intimacy would typically signify.
In any other circumstance, it would mean the beginning of a soul-bond, but this isn’t that.
This is just leftover adrenaline, it doesn’t mean anything.
Still, this is an unusual situation and my clothes just reminded us both of that.
Most Fae clothing is cut with low backs or slits to accommodate the wings, but my nightgown and dressing gown weren’t made like that. The expectation is that if you’re going to bed with your wings out, you’re not wearing clothes, anyway.
My fingers tremble as I reach down and grip Fox’s hands, guiding them away from my hips and up to the neck of my nightgown. “Rip it,” I gasp, my lips nearly brushing his.
Fox’s gaze turns molten. His fingers curl into the delicate fabric at my collar, and with one savage motion, he rends the nightgown in two. The torn silk slides down my skin like cool water until it pools on the bed by my feet, leaving me in nothing but my underthings
It’s not cold in the room, but goosebumps still erupt all over my body.
My nipples pebble, and Fox’s breath comes hot against my right breast a moment before his mouth closes over the tight peak.
The wet heat of his tongue sends lightning down my spine.
I arch my back, pushing closer as his calloused thumb circles my other nipple.
My fingers dig into the solid muscle of his shoulders as my knees threaten to buckle.
The ceiling blurs above me as my head falls back, a sound escaping my throat that I barely recognize as my own.
Fox’s mouth releases my nipple with a wet sound before capturing the other, giving it the same attention as the first. His palm slides down the curve of my ribs, each fingertip leaving a trail of heat across my stomach.
I feel achy and empty between my legs, and gasp as Fox’s hand dips lower, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
My hips buck involuntarily when he traces the seam where my thigh meets my center, so close yet deliberately avoiding where I need him most. I whimper with anticipation.
“Open your legs wider,” he commands, voice rough.
I edge my feet farther apart on the mattress, my lips curving despite my desperation. “I feel like you’ve been telling me that all week.”
“And yet,” he murmurs, eyes darkening as they sweep over me, “you still haven’t learned.” His fingers press into my inner thighs, urging them further apart. I’m never going to be able to get this image out of my head the next time he tells me to adjust my fighting stance.
I brace my hands on his shoulders, the muscles beneath my palms solid as stone.
My thighs tremble with the effort of keeping myself open to him.
His fingers trace lazy circles, teasing, barely grazing where I need him most. When he finally slips two fingers into me a low whine escapes me and my inner walls clench, desperate to draw his hand deeper.
He slowly draws his fingers in and out, occasionally using his thumb to brush against my clit. I feel myself winding tighter and tighter until I’m rocking my hips against his hand trying to find release.
“Please,” I whimper. “I need—”
“What do you need, little witch?”
I gasp, rocking harder against him. “More.”
“Then take it.”
I let out a whine, tossing my head back as he adds a third finger, stretching me, the pressure making my thighs tremble. My back arches involuntarily as his knuckles press deeper, fingers curling against my inner walls.
“You’re doing so good,” he tells me, and my vision blurs at the edges.
He leans in again and takes my nipple in his mouth, as he fucks me hard and fast with his hand. I let out a sob, trembling as spasms of pleasure course through my entire body.
“That’s right, witch. You’re doing so well. Come hard for me.”
Oh Gods. His words set fire to something deep inside me, and I come undone completely, my body convulsing as pleasure tears through me. Tears spring to my eyes as I surrender to the intensity, the release so powerful it borders on pain.
I shake and gasp through the waves of orgasm for longer than I expect to. Finally, the contractions slow down and I pant hoarsely, bracing myself against Fox’s shoulders. My entire body is slick with sweat and the wetness dripping down my thighs.
“Good Gods,” I breathe, as I collapse boneless with pleasure, burying my face against Fox’s neck.
Fingers still buried in my heat, he gives me a few more gentle strokes before removing his hand and bringing it to his mouth, licking his fingers clean. “You came so perfectly.”
A tendril of pleasure curls in my stomach, and I practically glow as I push myself back to standing and look at him. “You’re suddenly very talkative.”
He arches an eyebrow at me. “I suddenly have a lot to say.”
“Good, I like it.”
He makes a grumbling sound, and his brow furrows slightly. “Don’t get used to it.”
I start to answer, but it turns into a shriek as he lifts me again, one powerful arm around my waist. Despite my still trembling thighs, my legs instinctively wrap around him, though my small stature means they circle his stomach rather than his hips.
Still, the effortless way he holds me, as if I weigh nothing at all, sends a different kind of thrill through my spent body.
I wrap my arms around his neck and trace my tongue along his throat before catching his earlobe between my teeth. A tremor runs through his body as a primal sound rumbles from deep in his chest.
He switches our positions, so he’s sitting on the bed, his wings laid out behind him, and I settle onto his lap, his hard cock trapped between our bodies. His hands slide down my back, his palms warm against the sensitive skin beneath my wings, before coming to rest on the curve of my ass.
His gaze flickers past me to where my wings shimmer in the dim light and something shifts in his expression—hunger mixed with reverence. The way he’s looking at me stirs something reckless deep inside me.
I move my hands along his shoulders, intentionally letting my fingers brush along the base of both his wings. I trace my fingertips along the sensitive juncture where feathers give way to smooth skin. His breath catches, but he doesn’t push my hands away. The heat in his gaze flares molten hot.
Neither of us says anything about it. We both know having our wings out like this when we’re not soul-bonded is taboo, but until this moment I never realized I would like it. I think he likes it too.
He slides his hands around to my hips, his fingertips pressing into my flesh with gentle urgency.
The pressure guides me upward until I’m hovering above him, my thighs trembling slightly with anticipation.
“Go slow,” he whispers, his voice a ragged breath against my collarbone.
His eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide with desire as a bead of sweat traces the sharp line of his jaw.
I lower myself slowly until the head of his cock nudges against my entrance, hot and insistent.
The first inch stretches me deliciously, sending sparks of pleasure-pain up my spine.
I sink down further, my thighs trembling with the effort of restraint, and gasp at the overwhelming fullness.
My body resists, clenching around his thick length, and I have to stop before I’m even halfway seated, my breath coming in shallow pants against his neck.
His fingertips circle the sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs, sending electric pulses through my core. “That’s it,” he whispers, “You’re doing so well.”
I shiver, my spine arching like a drawn bow as his thumb works those insistent circles.
His icy eyes lock onto mine, refusing to break away even as my mouth falls open, soundless.
The stretch and fullness bloom through me, stealing my breath, until finally the resistance melts away and I feel the press of his hipbones against the tender flesh of my inner thighs, the impossible fullness stretching me from within.
I lift my hips again, drawing him almost all the way out again before sinking back down.
Fox moans, eyes fixed on his cock disappearing and reappearing inside me. “You’re so tight. So, so good.”
I rock against him, lifting and sinking in a rhythm that makes my legs quiver. His fingers work circles where we’re joined while his mouth claims my breast, sending twin sparks of pleasure through me. I ride him faster, chasing the second orgasm that’s already building inside me.
“That’s it,” he breathes, fingers digging into my hips. “You’re so perfect. Taking all of me like you were made for this.”
I dig my nails into his shoulders, dragging them deliberately across the sensitive ridge where feather meets flesh. His entire body goes rigid beneath me, a guttural sound tearing from his throat—half growl, half desperate plea—as his wings flare wide, knocking into the walls.
His fingers dig into my hips, and with a growl, he lifts me off him. The sudden emptiness makes me gasp. For a moment, I don’t know what he’s doing, then he stands and drops me back on the bed.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
I fall forward on my palms, and his big hands span my back, rubbing the length of my spine and lingering between my wings.
He pushes me forward and I eagerly bend until my face is pressing into the mattress, my ass in the air.
He runs his hands down my back again, this time caressing the curve of my ass, just before I feel him pushing at my entrance again.
There’s absolutely no pain this time when he fills me, and I moan at the incredible fullness.
His hips snap against mine, each thrust driving me deeper into the mattress.
My vision shatters into white-hot stars as waves of pleasure crash through me, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses.
With a guttural groan, he suddenly withdraws—the loss immediate and jarring—followed by the hot splash of his release painting a warm stripe across my lower back, his breath coming in ragged gasps above me.
I face plant into his bed, exhausted, trying to catch my breath. I’m exhausted, aching, and soaked, yet utterly content. I want to lay here turning into jelly.
My eyelids droop, but the cooling wetness on my back reminds me I can’t just collapse here.
I push myself upright, muscles trembling with the effort, sheets peeling away from my sweat-dampened skin.
When I finally manage to lift my head, I find Fox’s ice-blue gaze fixed on me from where he leans against the bedpost, muscled arms crossed over his bare chest, wings folded tight against his back.
I have no idea what to say to him because that was the best sex of my life, but it was also entirely unexpected.
“That was good,” I comment lightly.
He just looks at me and nods. I wait, expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t
Alright, so I guess he only talks when he’s inside me, which doesn’t do anything to make this feel less awkward. We don’t really know each other well. I suppose we could work on that, assuming he’d want to do this again.
I bend down to retrieve my torn nightgown from the floor. Without thinking, I let magic flow through my fingertips—a shimmer of power that mends the ripped cloth and settles it back onto my body in one fluid motion.
Then, for good measure, I use magic to fix the destroyed room, repairing the nightstand that I broke and the smashed potion bottle—the potion itself is beyond saving, but I can at least reuse the bottle.
When everything is back in its place, I turn back to Fox.
He’s still watching me, and his expression isn’t sleepy or satisfied anymore.
He’s staring at the repaired dresser like it personally offended him.
I remember suddenly that he hates magic, and something that feels an awful lot like disappointment settles in my stomach.
Magic is basically who and what I am, and if that bothers him this isn’t going to work.
I reach for the doorknob, fingers hesitating for just a heartbeat.
“Well.” The word hangs between us. My throat tightens as I glance back at his rigid posture, his eyes still fixed on the repaired dresser.
I straighten my shoulders and pull the door open, stepping through without looking back again. “Goodnight.”