Page 37 of The Fae’s Treasure

“It’ll change.”

“I hope it does.”

“Hm.” I’m not sure I like that.

Dairmuid is suddenly over me, on top of me, not inside, and his eyes challenge me. “I want to be the one to make it change, Deanna. Do you know how rare it is for a faeling to have a sibling?”

“No?”

“Rarer and rarer. And if you are Rory’s true mother, he will be the first in many years to have a full sibling—if you would do me the honor of carrying my child one day.”

His hand takes hold of his cock, and he rubs the tip between my soaking lips, finding my clit and pressing hard, back and forth, making me arch. “I want to be inside of you so badly,” he grunts.

“Then why aren’t you?” I lock my leg over his calf and try to draw him in.

“Because I want to know if you want the same things. If you want to be the object of all the lusts I never fully unleash, and if you want me to plant my seed inside, and watch you grow, and share a life where we have children and pleasure, and balance human things like choir and eternal things like rain and wind. I want that, Deanna. For the first time in my immortal life, I want to share everything with someone. Even my son. Even my soul.”

Lust sinks into me, but my head is still clear.

Very clear.

Want. Dairmuid.

“Take me. Share with me. I want the same things.”

“Deanna, are you—”

“I’m so fucking sure it hurts, and you have to stop this pain. We can talk about vows and pretty words, and all of that later,” I demand, grabbing the back of his neck and dragging him to me.

The first stroke stretches me and fills me in one deep, even stroke, a perfect stroke, a stroke that touches all the hot, needy spots by default and makes me clamp down on him. I writhe and ride, hips instantly at work. “What?” I can’t help but cry out, a little bewildered and a lot okay with whatever this is.

“What, love? My tight, perfect love?” Dair groans, lets his hips stay low, buried inside of me, the perfect place for my greedy walls to pull and pivot on.

“This feeling normally comes at the end—or not at all.” The pleasure is building so hard and fast, pleasure that would take Aaron thirty minutes and an energy drink to come close to.

“Everything is at the peak with us. The richest. The fullness. The peak of the fruitful year, fertility, and ripeness.” He smirks. “It’s always like this. The feeling of being at the best part of pleasure.”

I dig my fingers into his upper arms, eyes wide for a second before they scrunch shut and I’m panting right in his face, making noises I never knew I made. Desperate, whimpering, grunting sounds because I’m about to come, but I’m not coming yet, and that sweet, sweet fucking amazing spot of anticipation is stuck on repeat.

If every time is like this, I’ll never leave this house. I’ll never leave this bed.

The fact that the guy who wants to marry me has unlimited wealth and the ability to conjure food and water out of thin air could come in handy.

“Everything we do will feel good, Deanna. So good. But you... You are the best I’ve ever had. Everything is so much sweeter, and tighter, and more... Needy. Urgent. Desperate in ways that immortals aren’t.”

Needy? Desperate?

I would be insulted if I wasn’t moaning, “Fuck me! Please, please, please, don’t stop. Almost there.”

Dair groans with me, and I decide he’s needy, too. And needy is good, if you get those needs met.

I can’t think about making words or anything else but the fact that the “almost there” feeling is building. Throbbing.

“Such a soft, tight little quim. Hugging me hard. So hungry for my seed.”

“Soon, right?”

Dairmuid looks at me, the same wolfish, hungry look on his face that I think must be on mine. “For me, or you?”