62 #2
And below shimmers her perfect, round buttocks. I trail my gaze over her slowly, the predator in me noticing how her breathing pattern changes. How her muscles tense. But she stays like that, kneeling in front of me on a stone bench under water, her body half-submerged, half out.
My eyes widen when I lift my gaze to her shoulders, only to find her shoulder blades just as sharp—two talon-like bones jutting from either side. They flex faintly when she moves, her skin stretching tight over those honed ridges, like something that once might have grown larger.
Like remnants of something infernal.
Something ancient. As if her body remembers another form.
Abyss, I’m so into this woman.
“Gods, I swear you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I whisper into her ear as I step up to her.
She flinches when my rough riding leathers scrape against her bare, sensitive flesh.
Then I trail my hand along her tail, grabbing it roughly, and she lets out a sound, half moan, half sigh.
It makes heat rises under my flesh. Makes me want to shove that stone right back into her, hard and fast, and wring quite different sounds from her lips.
I push her tail to the side, unveiling her butthole and gently let my fingers slide over her before—
With my other hand, I push the stone right up her cunt.
All the way in. Quite roughly. Claiming her the same moment I cup her breast in my other hand, pushing her against me while I lift her up, her body almost weightless and drifting in the hot water.
It’s all mine, complying easily when I press her closer against me.
Driving the stone in and out of her in long, languid movements.
“Oh yes,” she breathes, her nipples stone-hard between my fingers.
I grin in ecstasy, because having this gorgeous creature helpless and willing in my arms, pleasuring her as I please, feels like the best, most intoxicating high ever.
“Yes?” I ask, leaning against her neck, arching her back, making her butt graze my hard leathers with every shove I perform with my hand, making her skin red and raw.
“Hells yes,” she agrees with the same desperation in her voice. The same need for a release.
But I won’t give her one just yet. Oh no.
I let my sharp, silver canines cut the sensitive, so-soft skin of her neck, just enough to draw blood, and she stiffens briefly. “Relax,” I order. “And take it like a good girl,” I breathe, my voice deep, raw, as I drive that stone deep into her. Deeper and harder than before.
Her knees buckle, her back arches further. I lick the blood off her neck and start to suck.
“Blair!” she begs, but not to stop me. To give her more .
I take her roughly by her slim hips, grabbing that hard, jutting bone of hers that’s so different to a fae’s. I swear it’s as if she was made for me. Made for me to hold her in place.
I move the stone faster. All out. Deep in. All out, deep in. My hand slides to her soft belly, my fingers splaying against it, and I go even deeper.
“Gods, Blair. Gods I…”
“Say it,” I order, shoving it deep inside her, lodging it there, and then starting to pulsate it.
“That’s even better than I imagined it,” she moans, buckling forward on all fours when I let her go, bracing herself against the edge of the pool, arching her back like a cat, her tail moving to the side to give me free access as I keep fucking her with that stone.
“Good,” I breathe. “So you’ve been fantasizing about me, huh?”
“Yes,” she admits with another moan.
I know by the heat of it that she’s so close.
I slap her butt hard, and she cries. I don’t give her time to recover. To breathe. I do it again. And again. And again. The sound echoing back from the cavernous, sacred halls around us. I spank her red while I fuck that stone into her.
Then I splay my hand over her slit, driving the stone into her with my flat palm while my fingers slide up to her clit. Teasing. Taunting.
She comes with a shaking, shattering cry on my fingers. I hold her close then, palm flat against her cunt, my arms slung around her chest, holding her other breast to keep her locked against me.
Finally, I feel her hot wetness dripping out, slicking against me as the stone slips free all on its own and slides back into my hand. Her body slack. Yielding.
And all mine.
Still.
And I’m not yet done with her.
I turn her around so she’s against me, one hand holding her butt.
It fits directly into my palm. I squeeze her ravaged flesh hard as I carry her through the water.
Then I lift her up and almost out of the pool so she’s splayed wide before me, her slit open like an offering. My personal offering. Mine.
The word resonates in my mind. And settles somewhere deep.
I take a long time admiring her. Her pinkish skin. The beautiful swollen, glistening flesh. The white essence of her dripping out of her.
Our gazes meet as she lifts her head, swallowing thickly. Her voice is glassy, fragile. “Blair—”
“I’m not yet done with you,” I say harshly, and she relents.
I lean forward and she moans quietly when I lick her glistening essence straight out of her, placing my mouth over her slit and sucking all of her into my mouth. And hells, if she isn’t the sweetest, most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. No man tastes like that.
My hands lock around her hips as I drink her, milk her with my lips, driving my tongue in and out of her hole.
Her hands go to my hair, her nails digging into my scalp.
She writhes and bucks, her back arching off the ground.
She holds my head and then starts to drive her hips against me.
Pushing her hole against my tongue so I can go even deeper, moaning softly every time I slide deep in. Gods, she’s soft. And so sweet.
She comes again, this time with a desperate kind of sigh, and more of her drips into my mouth when she finally turns limp, her hole no longer so tight.
I pull back and slip the stone back inside her. She moans at the unexpected turn of events. At the friction. The thing inside her. She tightens around it. I smile to myself.
“I knew you still want more,” I say, slipping it torturously slowly, in and out, until she tightens more and more.
Her breath comes ragged, those tiny, sweet sounds like a melody in my ear as I watch her lying bare there for me.
“Now come for me,” I say roughly, my thumb against her butthole, circling it gently. And she obeys, tensing around the stone before she again becomes limp and the stone slips out once more, back into my waiting hands.
I lift myself out of the water and climb over her, dripping over her wet, glistening body.
Her lids are heavy, but her eyes are wide and clear and beautiful with that color I’ve never seen on any fae before.
I cup her chin gently, and then I kiss her.
She parts her sweet, soft lips for me, and I carefully, slowly push my tongue in, brushing it up against hers.
We kiss slowly, curiously. I grab her wrists when she wants to touch me. To open my leathers.
“Uh-uh. Not tonight,” I say harshly.
She nods like an obedient girl. Fuck, this woman turns me on so badly I know I’m going home to fuck myself into oblivion.
I finally pull back and lie on my side, watching her chest lift and fall with every breath.
Watch the pearls of water glistening on her flesh.
On her still-peaked nipples. Rolling down and pooling in her belly button until I sit up and drink them from her, guiding my tongue from her navel to her hip bone until I draw more shudders of pleasure from her.
Then I pull back and sit up and, finally, she pushes to her elbows, too, glancing at me unsurely.
The healer. The gorgeous, self-assured healer, suddenly shy—almost embarrassed. Nothing like that cool, always-balanced fae in the bedroom. And hells, I love it. I’m so all in for that do-whatever-you-want-with-me game.
“I have something for you,” I say, my voice still rough from what I did with her. I reach into my pocket and take out that necklace.
Her eyes widen.
“I stole it from you. I just…wanted to take something, because you looked like someone who already had everything without even asking for it. I sold it. It was an asshole move. I regret it. But all I can do now is apologize.”
I glance at her, only to find that she’s taken off the blue heart necklace and earrings. They were just glamours, hiding her real appearances.
Meanara carefully takes it from my hand, the red stone heart reflecting the shy moonlight overhead. “What…how? I mean, what did you do to get it back?”
“I slit some throats.” Her eyes widen at my words, and I offer her a smirk. “Want to slap me again? Or yourself, for letting yourself getting fucked by a monster?”
Her eyes just stay on mine, wide. Unsure. And still not at all in her healer role. Not that hard-assed, ever-calm, drives-me-mad, perfectly contained woman.
No. She’s insecure. Actually insecure. But, at the same time, that quiet fire burns in her eyes, fierce with a wildness that’s calling to my own.
“The necklace another glamour?” I ask when she says nothing.
“No,” is all she offers. Fine.
“Wanna tell me why you’re running around hiding?” I push.
She looks away, her long, pearlescent hair falling between us like a curtain. And I can’t stand it. Not being able to see her face, her reaction, her thoughts. Not when that feels important.
I reach out and gently brush the strands behind her arched ear. She bites her lower lip and, damn me, my gaze snares there.
“I shouldn’t be in this world,” she says quietly.
“So no one knows what you really look like? Not even Caryan?”
She frowns at me. “Why would Caryan know?”
“Because you and he were screwing?” I suggest lightly, but it isn’t easy to say it.
“We never slept with each other, Blair,” she says, watching me intently. “But why does it matter so much to you?”
I snort derisively, yet I wasn’t aware how much that did bother me until hearing it actually never happened. Only ever in my head.