He doesn’t mean it to be a taunt, but it feels like one, anyway.
Bree comes up behind me, pressing a kiss to the back of my neck. “This is just here, just now. Outside of our chambers, you’re the Nicnevin, and we’ll follow your orders to the grave. But when you’re in here, with your clothes off, you belong to him.”
“To us,” Drystan corrects, absently.
“And we have the Call. The second you feel afraid, he’ll stop.”
Drystan’s eyes haven’t left my face the entire time. For an instant, I’m glad that my aura made it impossible for him to look at me directly before. Had I been subjected to the full force of that burning gaze from the second I stepped into Faerie, I don’t think I would’ve been brave enough to leave the inn after my first night.
There’s so much intensity there, all of it laser-focused on me as I take a breath and slip from the safety of the mattress and onto my knees.
“Look at me,” he demands the second I dip my head to avoid facing the intimacy of the moment.
When I look up again, something in his expression twists, and he looks over me at Bree.
“She’s not ready for this.”
Bree answers before I can. “I think Rose and I are both sick of people trying to tell us what we are and aren’t ready for.”
I nod. “I want to.”
Drystan’s shoulders relax. Not much, but enough that I gather myself and crawl towards him. The whole time, I’m painfully aware of my breasts hanging beneath me and my ass in the air, and the view that Bree must be getting—that both of them must be getting.
From down here, the armchair appears to be a throne, and Drystan, a cruel lord sitting upon it, watching me debase myself at his feet.
I’m so in my head that I don’t notice my dullahan unlacing the front of his trousers until I come face to face with his pierced dick.
“Come here,” he beckons, spreading his thighs to make a space for me between them.
The distance shouldn’t feel so intimate, given that we’ve been pressed up against one another on horseback for weeks, but looking up at him now makes me feel small, vulnerable.
He’s holding his length in one hand, and the dim light of the candles catches on the metal around the head of his dick.
“Holy shit,” Bree murmurs. “Is that a king’s crown?”
Drystan grunts an affirmative. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I want to teach her how to suck my cock properly.”
Bree hisses, but for once I don’t take the callous tone to heart. Drystan isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know about my oral skills. My fever was a mess of passion, and while it was hot, I wasn’t exactly in the frame of mind to master my technique. I’m still learning how to please them, just like they’re learning how to please me.
“Teach me how to suck your cock?” I ask, tracing the line of piercings down the underside of his shaft with my eyes.
“Stick your tongue out.”
The smell of smoke wafts over me as I do what he says, opening my mouth and offering my tongue. His hand comes up to cup my chin as the other angles his cock so the pierced head rubs along my taste buds, filling my senses with the salty sweetness of his pre-cum and the cool bite of metal.
The head of him slides deeper, invading my mouth.
“Breathe through your nose.”
I startle, not from his words, but from the lightest of touches on my shoulders.
“It’s just me,” Bree promises, gathering my hair in his hands and holding it back. “Can I stroke your wings, dragonfly?”
“Mmpf,” I try to nod my consent around Drystan’s length, but he’s at the back of my throat, making talking impossible until he draws back. “Yes, just… keep talking to me?”
I’ve barely gotten the words out before Drystan surges forward again, seating himself so deeply that I have to work hard not to gag.
“Relax your throat,” Bree coaches, his fingers trailing softly down my back, right between the membranes of my wings. “Breathe through your nose. Goddess, you look so beautiful like this. So perfect.”
