Page 49 of Dark Fey Captive

My breath caught, and my gaze flew to his.

“Can I wash you?”

He wasn’t just asking. He was waiting for an answer, his fingers not going any farther.

“Will you stop if I ask you to?”

The hungry intensity in his gaze had me doubting his quick promise.

How long had we been in the bathroom? Long enough for Gwen and Lettie to see the bra? Maybe. Did I want to take that chance? No.

“Yes, you can wash me…until I’m not willing anymore.”

His fingers brushed over my hair again, and I felt a thrill of anticipation. How long had it been since someone else did this for me? Too long.

Ready to see what he could do, I parted my legs just enough to give him access. He made a soft sound, like a growl, that sent a thrill through me. His hand slipped lower. My pulse picked up at the first brush of his fingers between my legs.

I watched his awed expression, his pupils blown wide, as he teased my folds apart. The moisture he found there wasn’t only from the water. Playing with him had been good for me, too. I hadn’t realized how much until his fingertip grazed my clit and I almost fell over from a jolt of pleasure so intense my knees wanted to give out.

With an arm circling my waist, he pulled me to his side, lifting me and tucking me close.

“Relax,” he said softly. “I will hold you.”

The change of angle gave his hand more room to move. To explore. I rested my cheek on his chest as his fingers continued to tease me.

His finger traced several slow circles around my clit and dipped into my entrance, drawing more moisture before returning to my sweet spot. Heat spread outward as the pleasure I felt climbed higher and higher.

“Can we take this to the bed?” I asked without considering what that meant.

He left the shower with me, his finger not missing a beat. The danger of what I’d asked for didn’t register until he set me onto the comforter, his hungry gaze pinned to where he was touching me.

Would he press for more once I came? Would I have the sense to stop him?

Did I care?

I closed my eyes, focusing on his fingers. A warm gust of air on my breast had me arching. His lips brushed my nipple.

“Yes,” I breathed, my fingers delving into his hair, silently demanding he take the sensitive peak into his mouth.

He didn’t need any more coaxing than that. His lips parted. The hot wash of his exhale added to the storm growing inside of me. He sucked my nipple at the same time his finger slipped into my opening.

“Yes.” I lifted my hips, trying to impale myself.

His finger retreated, denying me the penetration I wanted by returning to my clit. Any disappointment I felt was very brief.

I climbed closer to that magical cliff, rotating my hips, tugging his hair, and occasionally begging. Just “please.” I lost the ability to articulate more than that somewhere along the way.

When his finger returned to my opening again, I was desperate. I needed penetration.

I grabbed his wrist and thrust my hips upward, fucking myself on his finger. It went deep, filling me in the best way.

And then he curled it, pressing right where I needed it.

I broke apart with a scream that he covered with his mouth. He kissed me hungrily, his finger still deep inside of me, drawing out one of the best, most needed orgasms of my life.

As it faded, an infected groaned and banged on the window, tearing me from my bliss.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN