Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Crymson
His kiss is hungry and consuming. His fingers are sharp and greedy. The sound of my moan is a lost sentiment between the slow flicking of our tongues. With both hands shoved through his hair, I hold on for dear life as he moves from my lips down the column of my throat with hot desperate kisses.
“Christian,” I warn as he pushes aside the strap of my dress and nips at the plump mound of my breast before fully pushing the offensive cloth down and covering my nipple fully with his mouth.
“Um . . .” I try hard to object, really I do.
Movement sways at my side, and I can’t help but notice how the white rose-like flowers dance in a way before their damp petals close in on themselves like children hiding behind their hands . . .
Wow, now I’m really self-aware of our surroundings.
My heart pounds hard, and my thighs clench harder as sharp teeth graze across sensitive flesh. Possessive hands grip my hips, and he’s shoving at the hem of my skirt as his head dips lower.
“Christian, it’s dark, but it’s not that dark,” I manage, and I feel his smirk kiss along my inner thigh. “We’re going to disrespect the fae if we don’t stop,” I finally say, rationally.
“The morbid one, what’s his name?” Christian asks with another flick of his tongue against the apex of my thigh.
My lashes flutter, but I focus on him. I hold tightly to his hair, pushing him away and pulling him back all at the same time. I can’t breathe, let alone think, and his question is confusing . . . morbid one?
“Carver?” I manage on a lost and ragged breath.
“Mmm,” he hums as he slowly slips my panties to the side. “It doesn’t look like Prince Carver feels disrespected.”
Warm hands clasp loosely around my bare shoulders, and my head tilts back against a hard stomach to see the most mischievous eyes peering down on me.
Carver’s smile is partly agape as his attention trails from my eyes to my lips to my breast to the man now fully pushing my thighs open just before the hot flat of his tongue slides up my center.
My head steadies against the Fae Prince while my hands hold tightly to messy blonde hair.
“You look so fucking sexy like this,” Carver whispers to me as one of his hands cradles around my throat and the other slowly crawls down my bare shoulder over my collar, and he palms the weight of my breast in his hand.
Delicate fingers tease across my nipple while he holds my jaw in place, forcing me to look up at him.
“You could save us all from ourselves, couldn’t you?
One mortal girl to reunite the Dark Lands. ”
There’s darkness behind his eyes like he’s being dragged back to the memory of what broke the Dark Lands.
Christian lifts from between my thighs, and I can’t tell if he’s watching us, but his thumb strokes over my clit slowly, and I tremble in their hands.
“Stop talking, Fae. Pull down your pants,” Christian commands, and Carver’s smile turns wolfish.
“As you wish, My Prince.” He releases me, and I’m still trying to keep up with them as he takes a step back from me and raises his hands over his head.
In an instant, he’s dragging the thin tunic over his messy black hair and ruffling wings.
Hard lines and bronze skin turn slick in the misting rain.
His fingers take their time at the waist of his pants, and I look to Christian to ensure he’s not about to cut anything important off of my mate because all of this feels very much like a trap.
I’m in a fae realm about to have a three-way with a Vampire Prince and a cursed fae prince . . .
Something is not adding up.
“Christian,” I start, but his hands grip my dress at the hem once more . . .
And then he pulls. Hard.
The fabric tears up the center and drops to the ground in a puddle of water. I’m naked between them in nothing more than my underwear before I can even say spit roast.
“Come here, pretty pet,” he whispers as he grips my hips and pulls my ass ever so slightly off of the bench.
My elbows brace me up, and he holds me carefully in his lap.
“You’re not just a pet to me,” he whispers along my lips.
His kiss is distracting, and I almost hate that he’s bringing up the conversation from earlier because it’ll end in us arguing.
We’re too strongheaded. Too similar. Too . . .
And then he rips my panties away too.
“Christian! Those were a gift!”
A smile tilts his lips.
“From the Thorn King?” he asks cockily.
My lips purse, and I hear a rumbling of laughter behind us.
“You’re mine.” He bows over me with growling words humming along my neck and the faintest scraping of teeth against my skin.
“You’re the only fucking person in all the realms I care about.
” Something hard and smooth grazes along my inner thigh and then I feel him there, slick against my sex with teasing strokes at my entrance.
“Your voice in my head is the only fucking voice of reason that I’ve ever known, Crymson Vaine.
” I smile at that, but as I do, he sinks slowly in, inch by inch, stretching me for him with controlled dominance that I’ve never seen in him before.
“Crymson,” he holds me in place by my hip with one hand and cradles my head in his other as he thrusts in fully, and my lips part without sound.
“Crymson, look at me,” he orders, and my head tilts forward in an instant to catch his hooded gaze.
I crave you, he sends down the bond of our thoughts, and I shiver at the feel of his rumbling voice in my messy mind.
The chaotic lines of his magic turn darker across his flesh, spreading over his neck and face like he can't control it even when he tries. He fucks me hard, and it’s difficult to hold his gaze now, but he keeps his palm around my neck, forcing me to feel every single ounce of the bond we share.
I need you, Crymson.
The pounding of his hips grinds into me over and over again in time with the beating rain.
I love you.
Thunder booms as lightning blooms across the most beautifully darkened skyline.
“I–” I try to say it back, but his smile is knowing, and his hips are cruel as they grind into me in just the right way.
“Shh,” he murmurs against my neck, his fangs extending even more. “Now, tip your pretty head back and open your mouth for the Blood Carver,” he whispers sweetly before sharp fangs pierce painfully through my flesh.
My eyes roll back as my head falls against the cement bench with a moaning scream on my lips. He grips me hard and fucks me harder. Slick blood streams down my neck and chest, and its tingling sensation only makes me ache for more. I reach up over my head, and Carver’s fingers tangle with mine.
I push myself up on one elbow. My back arches, and that mischievous glint in the fae prince’s eyes is alight with devious intent as he brings one knee up and settles it at my side, steadying me with his body before pushing his big palm across my breast once more.
Black wings spread wide, covering us from the steady rain and unseen eyes.
His other hand slides over his lower abs, and he wraps his fingers lazily around the base of his cock, stroking himself in time with every thrust of Christian’s hips.
“Fuck, you’re like an angel of death,” I hiss out on a reckless exhale, hating how stupid that just sounded.
His chuckle is warm and calming, and he doesn’t stop the slow up-and-down pumping of his wrist even when a drop of wetness kisses his tip. His other palm glides up my bloody throat, and his wet thumb pauses to skim across my lower lip.
“Open for me, clever girl,” he whispers with a sexy smile.
My lips part immediately, and my tongue swipes out for only a moment before he’s there, holding himself in his hand.
My palm slides over his knuckles, and I guide him closer.
The flat of my tongue swirls over the head, and the salty taste of him has me wanting more.
Dark lashes close hard over pretty eyes, and just before I fully slide my tongue down the hard length of him, I realize I’ve never felt this powerful. This wanted.
This . . . loved.
His hand on my jaw loosens the moment my mouth glides down the thick veins of his shaft.
“Fuck, Crymson,” he growls out, clearly trying hard not to hold me or force me or hurt me.
I can’t see anything from this angle but the damp ground beneath Carver’s feet.
But I feel . . . everything.
Christian’s lips draw up in a smile against my throat, and he pulls back from me.
His hold on me is stronger now, keeping me in place between the two of them.
Big hands clench my hips and support me at the small of my back while he thrusts in time with the Fae Prince.
It’s a give and take of them sliding into me, but I feel like I’m the only one taking.
And I take and take and take until the spiraling energy in my core feels like it’ll crumble this kingdom in on itself if I don’t find a release.
My sex clenches around the thickness of him, and his groan is a heady sound that vibrates across my slick breasts where he buries his face.
Christian’s hips rock harder against my clit with every long drawn-out stroke he gives me.
My fingers tangle in the dampness of his shirt while my other hand holds firmly on the bench, clutching the edge so hard, it crumbles away beneath my palm.
“Careful, pretty pet,” Christian says on a groan that rumbles all the way through me.
My moan is a stifled sound that only makes Carver’s hold on my throat tighten as he pumps in one last time, hitting the back of my throat in a satisfying way that has my back tensing in Christian’s hands. The feel of his pulsing cock across my tongue is all I remember before the storm breaks.
Every ounce of pent-up energy inside of me floods through me all at once. My body trembles between them as the rain falls hard, and my orgasm races in time with the flow of rumbling thunder above us.
Carver pulls away just slightly, and my breath is stolen along with him. Water droplets pound over my face and chest. Christian holds me slickly against him as he thrusts in hard with a growling groan that drowns out into my flesh.
He finishes, but he holds me closer, breathing me in for several long seconds.
The sky rumbles with an unnatural darkness casting curiously over us.
My shoulders slouch, and I fall fully to the hard ground. The pounding of my heart and the jagged edges of my breath fill the silence. Carver sits at my side on the slightly broken bench, umbrellaing me from the onslaught of violent rain with a single open wing.
“I think they know,” Carver whispers eerily as he looks up at the dark smoke-like clouds above us. “They know the Vampire Prince is here.”
I stare at him and his eerie words, trying to make sense of them.
“They who?” I dare to ask.
His lip quirks at the edge with an unhinged half smile. “The Dead.”
The smell of burning embers hangs strangely in the air.
I hold Christian a bit tighter in my arms like I’ll never let him go. From over his head, I meet a watchful, manic gaze, and I know what the Fae Prince is thinking even without sharing an unspeakable bond . . .
One mortal girl to reunite the Dark Lands.