Chapter Twenty-One
It was easier said than done.
Especially because every time she left the house and the protection of the wards, the connection was so much stronger. She could feel Lorcan hovering on the edge of her periphery. Whether he meant to or not.
She joined Gen and Ethan for their training.
She trekked down to the Lower East Side to consult with Gen’s mom, Colette.
She checked in on Maura, who was still vomiting regularly.
Ronan hadn’t heard of anyone else getting an invitation except Nova, which wasn’t surprising, since she had killed Nate.
She hiked up and down Manhattan, investigating every crevice as she watched her beloved city simmer like a pot set to boil.
If she hadn’t lived here her entire life, she might not have seen it, but everyone was tense and jumpy.
The tourists huddled together in tight-packed groups.
The gangs set up patrols on the corners, brandishing guns at anyone who looked suspicious.
And the goblin fruit was everywhere. It made her sick to see as she ambled back into the brownstone.
“I’m going to pass out,” she told Graves, landing face first in the bed.
“I got you a new dress.”
That was when she realized he was in a tuxedo. She came up to her elbows with wide eyes. “You got the meeting?”
“Just came in.”
She came to her feet and reached for the black bag in his hands. “I haven’t done a thing to my hair.”
“Wear it up.” His hand stroked up her neck as he tugged lightly on her hair. A soft moan escaped her lips. “I like it up. And I know they’ll like it up, too.”
“Okay, but if you keep tugging on my hair like that, we’ll be late.”
“No complaints from me,” he said, tilting her head backward and baring her throat. His lips landed on the sensitive skin, kissing down her throat to her collarbone.
“Graves,” she groaned.
“We’ve been so busy,” he murmured into her ear. “I haven’t had you all to myself enough. We need this.”
“Yes,” she gasped. “But the meeting?”
“We have time.”
“Please,” she whispered. She’d been running herself ragged. She needed this sweet release. She needed it.
“On your knees.”
Her eyes widened, defiance rearing up in her chest. Then she let it slip away, and she slowly lowered herself before him. He still had her hair in his hand as she unclasped his pants and dragged the zipper down. His cock was lengthening as she pulled him free. He was thick and rigid in her hand.
“Graves,” she groaned.
“You’ve been gone a lot,” he said.
Her eyes flickered up to his. “We’ve been busy.”
“We’re going to have to talk about this at some point.”
His eyes weren’t hard or angry. They were conciliatory. They were both hiding behind their own problems. She wanted more than ever for the binding to go quiet as it was when they were away and the one precious night she’d bargained for.
“I know,” she told him.
He nodded once. Accepting that there would come a point where they would discuss it. Knowing her well enough to give her the space to come to him in her own time.
“Do you think that you can take all of me?”
She swallowed as her eyes returned to his cock. Her lips went to the head, and Graves made an unseemly sound that went straight to her core. She was wet just from the sound and the salty taste of pre-come.
“I want to fuck the back of your throat.”
She shifted, desperate for friction on her clit. She was sure she’d come hard and fast at the lightest provocation. But she didn’t have that, and no amount of wiggling was making that happen. So she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
When she felt resistance, it was nowhere near all the way in. Still, he guided her forward by her hair. The tug on her scalp a gentle prod as he filled her mouth. Her lips were spread wide, and she grasped his powerful thighs.
“Keep going,” he assured her.
She gagged around him, retreating to get more air. Then she dove back in, taking him farther than before.
“Relax,” he urged. “Just relax for me.”
Then she did, finally letting the tension of the week dissolve around her.
She closed her eyes and let him ease all the way in.
His cock was deep in her throat until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Her eyes watered as she glanced up at him through thick, long lashes.
His pleased expression could have toppled empires.
Then he released her. She gasped in a long breath before going for more, sucking him into her mouth again. Her Holly King. Her winter god. Her Graves. She looked up at him with devotion in her eyes as if this was the altar on which she prayed.
His hands threaded into her hair, and then he fucked her mouth. Long, deep strokes that had her gagging and breathless. It was relentless, and she both wanted and didn’t want it to stop.
He was always so controlled. She loved to watch him come undone.
“Close,” he crooned.
She made a noise at the back of her throat, wanting nothing more than for him to find release. But as if he could hear her, he retreated, releasing her hair and tugging her mouth away.
“Wait, I…” she gasped. “I wanted you to come in my mouth.”
His eyes were wide and nearly black with desire. “Fuck, Wren.”
“Please.”
“I want to finish inside you,” he said as he guided her to her stomach. She made a noise of protest, and he asked, “You don’t want to come with me?”
He lifted her ass into the air. “When you put it like that…”
He chuckled as he tugged her leggings down. “Grab your ankles for me.”
It was uncomfortable but bracing, and she shook with anticipation. But then he stood back up and walked to the nightstand. Her eyes trailed him as he returned to his knees behind her.
“Are you still okay with this?” he asked, spreading her cheeks.
“I… Yes.”
“Good girl.”
She wanted to look behind her, but she had a feeling that she would know what she would find. Graves spread her cheeks wider, and then something wet hit her ass—lube.
She expected him to touch her. She didn’t expect him to thrust home, deep inside of her. Her grip tightened on her ankles as she shuddered with relief. He pumped in and out of her a few times. She was so wet from the blow job that she didn’t need any warmup.
Then his thumb moved up to the pucker of her ass, and he rubbed a few tight circles there. She held her breath at the intense feeling that ripped through her.
“Breathe,” he warned. “You’re going to come fast. Just breathe.”
She released the breath in one quick puff, and as she did it, his thumb moved in. She stilled a preternatural instinct as it stretched the delicate skin and tight ring. Then she remembered she was supposed to keep breathing and sucked in more air, releasing it slower this time.
There was no friction as he pulled back out. There was so much slickness teetering between painful and pleasurable. And still he was sliding his cock in and out of her, keeping her utterly aroused so that she was loose for him.
Then he pushed in farther up to a knuckle.
She mewled again, wanting to crawl forward to escape the pleasure and lean back into him to get more of it, feeling the first crest of her orgasm come back to her.
“Mmm, yes,” he said. “There you go. Relax into me.”
And when she did, he pushed in farther, pulling out and sliding back in, taking her a little more each time.
And she was so focused on that one finger, she almost didn’t realize how close her orgasm was to the surface.
It was as if the added stimulation had taken her from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds.
She couldn’t hold her ankles anymore. She clawed forward at the floor. The murmurs escaping her mouth rising with intensity as he worked her ass and slammed his cock into her.
“Graves, Graves, please…”
And when she was fully Graves’s wren again, nothing else mattered. Because here, they belonged to one another. Here was completion.
They hit the peak at the same time, tumbling over into oblivion. She cried out into the brownstone, not caring if anyone else heard them. The sweet release was necessary. And she’d have it again if she could.
Graves slid out of her, and she collapsed forward onto the floor. He joined her, threading their fingers together as they stared up at the ceiling. He brought their joined hands to his lips. “I’ll pull your hair more often.”
“I think you wanted to mark your territory before we left,” she teased him.
“I wanted you. Plain and simple.” He kissed her. “I always want you.” He kissed her again. “I’d have you here on the floor all day and night if I could.”
“Unfortunately, we have a meeting.”
“Hair up,” he teased, trailing a finger down her neck again. “Vampires like that sort of thing.”
“Vampires? But you hate them.”
“Ah, did I not tell you? We’re meeting Lyra’s parents.”
Kierse choked on the words. “What?”
He smirked. “Maybe I did want to mark my territory.”
He laughed and helped her to her feet with no other explanation. Classic Graves. So she had to hastily do her hair and makeup all while stressing meeting the king and queen of the vampire Upper East Side. Casual. Just a random Tuesday.
In the end, Isolde had to fix her French twist. Somehow, she did it with one pin and then blew out her bangs to frame her face.
She applied a smoky eye and red lip. The dress Graves had bought was fuck-me-red that hit at the top of her thighs with off the shoulder straps and a square neckline.
She could barely walk in it paired with thigh-high, suede black boots.
Her hand went to her throat where her missing wren necklace should have been. It would have gone perfectly with the outfit. She swallowed down the grief and descended the stairs.
Graves waited at the foot. He’d straightened up his tuxedo and was looking a little devil-may-care. His midnight hair was styled forward into those smoky eyes. She wanted to get red lipstick on every available inch of skin.
“Shall we?” he asked, offering her his hand.
Edgar was waiting at the entrance to the garage. “I’ll accompany you with George tonight,” he said, pressing the button for the elevator.
They took it to the underground garage and found George leaning against the side of the limo. He popped open the door for them. “Good evening.”
“George,” Graves said as he got into the back.
“Did you like the shirt that Gen made you?” Kierse asked.
George peeked a glance at Graves and then unbuttoned one of his shirts to show that he was wearing an Anne Boleyn T-shirt underneath his uniform, as promised. “It’s my favorite.”
Kierse laughed. “Priceless.”
He zipped his lips, and she winked before stepping inside.
“What was that about?” Graves asked.
Kierse barely suppressed her grin. “Nothing.”
George slid into the driver’s seat while Edgar took the passenger seat. Backup just in case.
“Are we going to need Edgar’s help tonight?” she asked him.
“Let’s hope not.”
“I hate going into a vampire lair without a weapon,” she grumbled. The dress didn’t exactly leave room for a gun as so many of the dresses she wore around Graves.
“You are the weapon,” he reminded her.
Her heart beat furiously as they crossed the darkened park where goblin fruit passed hands on the corner to the Upper East Side.
She only ventured to this side of town for baked delicacies, the MET, or easy pickpockets.
The wealth nauseated her. She still wasn’t used to it even being around Graves all the time.
There would always be a part of her that was the thief that placed a value on everything around her.
The limo stopped on 5th Avenue before a towering building overlooking Central Park.
One benefit to the Upper East Side at least was that there were no underground monster deals or Men of Valor logos graffitied on the side of buildings or fights in the streets.
No, all of that was hidden behind their money, as it had been during the Monster War.
Edgar escorted them out of the vehicle. She slid her hand into the crook of Graves’s arm, lifting her chin and walking like she was on a runway.
A white-gloved doorman opened the door for them with a tilt of his chin. They entered the expansive luxury as if they belonged, only to find Lyra Anderson standing at the foot of a bank of elevators, tapping her foot impatiently.
“There you are!” she gasped as they approached her.
She was in a micro mini black dress that hugged her lithe features. Long, drapey necklaces hung from her neck and bracelets bracketed her wrists. Her hair was down and pin straight.
“I can’t believe you asked me to call two unfortunate meetings in the same week,” Lyra said. She pressed the button for the penthouse. “I’ll have you know that the vampire syndicate sent Quint here to deal with my parents after I met with them. That’s a huge bust.”
“Is Quint your mysterious enemy?”
Lyra frowned. “Yes. Well, that’s not his real name, but he’s the fifth. So I call him Quint. Whatever. That’s not important. He’s here. And he’s a royal pain in my ass.”
“Noted,” Graves said. “You did us a favor, Lyra. I owe you.”
“Well, I guess it’s worth it, then. Come on,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s ascend to hell.”