Chapter Six
Thade
Pleasure thrums through me, racing up the shaft of my cock like lightning, sizzling everything in its wake.
A moan slips unbidden from my lips, and I gaze down upon my honey eyed beauty with a soul deep admiration.
My mortal prize is truly more splendid than anyone I’ve ever beheld.
Though I know other mortal women who’ve joined the ranks of the fae—including the queen, herself, the General of the Wild Hunt’s Second in Command, and the queen’s sister-in-law—none hold a candle to my Wren in my eyes.
“You look so beautiful, my pretty bird,” I say, my voice thick with lust.
Wren’s gaze meets mine, her mouth full of my cock, and I can see the corner creases that give away the hint of a smile as she continues her wickedly alluring and innocent exploration of my cock.
“God, yes,” I curse, unable to help myself.
It’s hard to believe my Fated mate has never done this before.
She seems to have a natural gift for pleasure, and I am grateful beyond words.
She lavishes me with a love and tenderness that borders on reverence.
Her gentle, delicious ministrations feel salacious, yet pure, as if every swirl of her tongue and stroke of her hand is a natural work of art.
I feel my cock brush the back of her throat and shiver.
I fear it might be too much, that my fragile mate might balk or stop, but she surprises me.
Wren doubles down in her efforts, taking me deeper and deeper, fighting her own gag reflex to build a rhythm that has me curling me toes in the plush rug, and tangling my fingers in her locks.
“Fuck,” I gasp. A part of me knows I shouldn’t, not the first time, but the ecstasy is too great.
I lean into her effort, rocking my hips, until my cock is meeting her mouth thrust for thrust.
Her big, glorious eyes stare up at me as I pull on her hair, forcing her to meet my gaze.
Tears of exertion leak down her cheeks, but my beauty is determined to see this through, and I can only admire her resilience.
But I don’t want the first time I come to be wasted down her throat, hot and delicious as it might be.
I want to be inside her warm, soft cunt.
I want to feel her envelop me like fire to my ice, and I want my seed to take root deep inside of her.
I want a child—a family, though I never realized it until this moment.
“Pretty bird,” I croon, gently pulling her back by the crown of her hair. “Enough. You have pleasured me greatly, but I yearn to be inside you.” I trace the sweet curve of her cheek, before brushing my thumb over her lower lip.
A flash of emotion flickers through her eyes, fear mixed with lust, but she does not falter in her resolve to be with me.
“As you wish,” she whispers, her breath shuddering as she sits back on her plump ass, then lies back down on the soft rug.
Her beautiful brown hair splays out like a halo around her, and her cheeks flush a lovely pink, giving her the appearance of a pale flower gazing expectantly up at me.
“Am I pleasing to your eye, Thade?” she asks, her fingers nervously toying with the fibers of the rug as she awaits my answer.
My smile is quick, fluid, and easy. “You are my muse,” I say.
“Your beauty is like no other. I will write sonnets and songs in your honor and recite them for the Royal Court and all across Faery. You please me with every breath that you take, every shy smile and glance you send my way.” I get down onto my knees and crawl over her, stalking like a lithe snow cat.
I hover above her, my lilac gaze living for her gold honey, before I wrap her up in my arms, our naked forms melding, flesh to flesh, as I catch her lips in a softly passionate kiss.
“And now,” I declare with a playful smirk, “it’s my turn to pleasure you.
” I press my lips to her throat, to her collar bone, to her breasts, peppering her beautiful body with a trail of kisses that leads down to the nest of hair that awaits me beyond the pleasant, feminine swell of her belly.
“Wait,” she says, anxiety tainting her lovely voice. “I’ve never...” She swallows hard. “You don’t have to.”
“But I want to,” I drawl, inhaling her delicious musk. “Besides, my pretty bird, this is as much for me as it is you. This foreplay will ensure you are ready for me, that you’re nice and wet.”
My pretty Wren’s face blanches, her expression is one of puzzlement. “Why would you desire me to be wet?” she asks.
“It eases the pain,” I say, nipping at the milky skin of her inner thigh. “It makes our coupling far more pleasurable for both of us.”
Wren purses her lips and nods her understanding. “Very well.”
Pleased that she is comfortable, I spread her thighs wide, exposing her to my hungry gaze.
“Everything about you is so perfect,” I whisper, before my tongue darts out to circle her clit.
Wren flinches, her eyes wide as a breathless gasp escapes her.
“Relax, my love,” I soothe. “You’re safe with me.
” I tease her with my tongue, then suckle her clit, delighting in the beautiful, anguished moans that betray my pretty bird’s ecstasy.
“Oh, Thade,” she rasps, her knuckles clenching white as she grasps at the rug like an anchor in a storm. “I can’t... I don’t have the words.”
Amusement fills me, my cool breath whispering against her hot, tender flesh.
“I’ll have all the words you need,” I promise.
“But do you like it?” Without waiting for an answer, I slide my tongue down her folds, delving for her slit.
She’s already wet and her taste is intoxicating as it coats my tongue like a delectable cream.
I plunge in, lapping up all I can, savoring her, before slipping a cool finger inside.
“Oh, fuck!” Wren cries out, her face coloring as she curses, shocking even herself, but she’s too swept up in the sensations that assault her to worry herself further about it. “God, yes,” she almost sobs, propping herself up on her elbows, her head hanging back.
“Good girl,” I praise. “Can you handle more?” I push two more fingers inside her and she shrieks, but it’s the sound of unbridled pleasure. My cock twitches, hard as ice between my thighs as I work my gorgeous mate into a frenzy. “You are so incredibly tight.”
“Is that good?” she gasps, turning her lust-glazed, honey gaze on me once more, her lips parted in wanting.
“It is,” I croon.
Wren bucks her hips, grinding against my thrusts, her breathing labored as her juices coat my fingers.
“Oh, God be merciful,” she cries. “I feel... I feel...” She can’t find the words because she doesn’t know them.
The mortals keep their women woefully ill-educated when it comes to their own bodies and the pleasures they’re capable of.
“It’s okay, relax, my pretty bird. Don’t hold back—trust me—just let go.”
Wren’s body writhes, then stiffens, her eyes wild before her voice shreds the night. Like a ship lost at sea, she braves the onslaught of the waves that pummel her from within, riding out the sheer ecstasy and brutality of what I can only imagine must be the very first release of her mortal life.