Then he attacks in earnest, his tongue flicking over my clit faster than I can process, before taking a leisurely lick down to my entrance, only to skitter away again.
My púca is the master of teasing. I’m pretty sure I hate him for it, or at least, that’s what I tell myself as he rings my clit, then lashes it with the lightest licks.
Is it possible to die of gentleness?His exploration is riding the line between pleasure and frustration, the two blending until I can’t tell which is fuelling the urge to scream.
“Bricriu,” I moan, head falling back. “Harder, I’m begging you. Please.”
My eyes are screwed shut, but I still feel it when he freezes. His tongue leaves my skin all together, and I almost weep at my own stupidity.
“You could blindfold her,” Drystan suggests smoothly. “I’d suggest a gag, but I’m partial to the way she cries out when she comes.”
Bree’s tongue slips out again, brushing against me of its own accord. “No. I… I trust her.”
“You risk pushing yourself too far—”
“No offence, unseelie, but would you kindly shut up and let me tongue fuck our mate’s pussy in peace?” Bree’s eyes flash bright between my thighs.
Said tongue sinks into me, going deep on the heels of that statement. Whatever Drystan might’ve said in reply is cut off as I clench hard around the intrusion. Bree’s answering groan vibrates through my soul and makes my toes curl. I’m not sure if it’s his sound magic to blame, or just the natural baritone of his voice rumbling through me.
I can’t last. I don’t even want to try. A few licks later and the orgasm that’s been building finally crashes over me in a wave of light that leaves me panting and trembling.
Softer licks draw me down, extending the pleasure without stoking the flames again. I shut down on the tiny part of me that wants to go again.
Drystan is right. Pushing Bree might only set him back in the long run. I’m still cursing myself for my slip up of begging him earlier.
So when he moves out from between my legs, tongue darting out to savour the last of my release shining on his chin, I flop back against the mattress, exhausted. Bree moves up until he’s lying next to me, and I watch as his tongue returns to normal midway through licking his lips. The second he’s free of my legs, Drystan’s whip uncoils from around my arms, and Bree takes them in his hands, rubbing the skin even though the whip left no marks.
“Better?” he asks.
My smile is shy, despite what we just did. “May I…” I gesture at the bulge in his ripped leathers, and he stiffens.
“Not today.” He looks over his shoulder at the Winter Court fae still sitting in the armchair. “But I think I know someone who might appreciate the attention.”
“Her fever is over.” Drystan’s tone is hard, dousing the ember of interest simmering beneath my skin. “She has no need to—”
“Drystan,” I say, silencing him. “I want to.”
His body turns rigid. “Rhoswyn, you may not like what I prefer.”
Bree shifts closer, his voice a whisper. “He wants to control you. Would you let him?”
“Yes.” I don’t even hesitate. “I want that.”
So much of my life is spent making big decisions that handing over control in this would be a relief. I’ve already proven how bad I am at initiating any kind of romantic activity with my mates, and while I’m sure I’ll get better at that with time, it’s not something I want to worry about on top of everything else.
“You say ‘stop’ in the mortal tongue and everything stops,” Drystan promises. “But if you mean it, get on your knees and crawl to me.”
Thirty-Six
Rhoswyn
This is a test. I know it. That still doesn’t make it any easier for me to make that first move. Abandoning Bree—who seems content to watch—I shimmy to the edge of the bed, then hesitate at the sight of my shoes and leggings still in a mess around my legs.
A flash of heat later, they’re gone. Incinerated.
There’s nothing in the way of me doing exactly as he asked, except my pride and the kicking of my heart in my chest. The tiles of the floor are dark and foreboding in the moonlight.
“You can still back out,” Drystan murmurs, sensing my thoughts.
