Beside us, a candle bursts into flame, and both of us startle. Bree’s weight leaves me before Drystan drops his glamour. He’s sitting casually in the chair by the door, in full view of the bed and the two of us.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” His words are calm, the tone similar to the one he uses when he’s speaking to Blizzard and he thinks we can’t hear. “I just thought you might want someone here in case you push him too far.”
“She’s not pushing me,” Bree hisses, tattoos swirling on his skin in response to his agitation.
At the same time, I say, “Good idea.”
The corner of the dullahan’s mouth twitches. “I’ll go if I make you uncomfortable.”
Bree looks down at me, head cocked in question. “Do you want him here?”
I could ask him the same question. “I want you to feel safe.” I blink, looking away from both piercing pairs of eyes as I make my next admission. “I trust you both.”
Drystan has seen everything I have already, and he’s cold and analytical enough to watch without getting caught up, which means he’ll see if Bree gets uncomfortable.
“He stays,” Bree decides. “But… keep your distance.”
“I won’t leave this chair,” Drystan promises, settling back and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “You have my word.”
With his promise secure, Bree’s attention falls to me once again, and I sigh as he dips his head again. This time that forked tongue flicks out, tasting the sweat blooming against the crease where my neck meets my shoulder.
A line of kisses follows, and soon I forget all about Drystan as I struggle to keep my hands in place. I want to drop them to his hair and anchor him against my body. Force him lower like I would with any of the others.
Except this is Bree. He needs to be in control right now. He needs to take this experience back for himself, and I would never, ever, jeopardise that.
So I pin my body in place, allowing myself the tiny shuddering gasps of pleasure and nothing more as Bree slowly maps the contours of my throat with that snake's tongue.
When his hand comes up to cup my left breast, I almost weep. The first squeeze is almost infuriatingly gentle, and I bite my lip to hold back a plea for him to knead the flesh harder.
“Harder,” Drystan mutters. “She likes it a little rough.”
I want to glare at him, but I’m distracted when Bree follows the instruction. The moan that slips free is involuntary, and it only gets drawn out as he bends his head and takes the other nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls, smooth and cold, while the other hand pinches.
“Bree,” I moan, chest lifting to follow his retreating mouth before I can stop myself. “That feels so good.”
He shifts, moving from beside me until he’s straddling my upper thighs. The new position frees up his other hand. Now both of my breasts receive equal attention as his mouth alternates between them. That serpentine tongue is cool and agile, circling and lapping faster than I can process.
He keeps going until my hips start to buck, and I begin to wonder if I can come like this—from nothing more than his hands and mouth on my breasts. His pace is agonisingly slow, and soon frustration begins to gnaw at me. I’m so close. My core is weeping, clit pulsing in time with my heart as my hips strain towards him.
Then, right when I’m about to give in and demand he move faster, he stops.
I pant, looking up at him through watery eyes as I fight the urge to beg, to plead. If I do that, I might charm him, and I promised I never would.
So I bite my tongue and simply stare at him as he traces the line of my waistband slowly before tugging my leggings and panties down to my knees. I go to kick the garment away, but my boots prevent it. Bree doesn’t seem to mind, grabbing the fabric between my legs and using it to lift me.
When he’s finished arranging us, he’s trapped his head inside the triangle made by my thighs and clothing, propped up on his elbows with his hands palming and raising my ass to his mouth.
The first brush of that forked tongue against my clit makes him groan against my soaking wet flesh. It also has me forgetting my promise entirely. My hands leave the headboard, only to be pinned back into place a second later.
I glance up, blinking at the whip of fire and bone that’s holding them in place without burning me or the cushions beneath me. I follow the line of vertebrae back to the dullahan in the corner, who raises a single scolding brow.
I’m immobilised. Completely at their mercy. My knees are caught over Bree’s shoulders, my legs unable to do more than hang there limply as he teases my slit with the barest flicks of that serpentine tongue.
“Relax,” Bree murmurs, and I wonder idly if he’s talking to me or himself.
His hands clench on my butt, and I hiss out a breath as he finally works his way up to a full lick. Unlike a normal fae, this snake tongue is cool against overheated flesh, and I gasp as it darts between my folds.
Bree’s eyes roll back in his head. “Fuck. Just as delicious as you were before.”
