Page 209 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Wait.” I place my fingertips against his lips.

He lifts an eyebrow.

“Is this a bad idea?” I ask, slowly lowering my fingers, awaiting his reply.

“Yes,” he says, his intense gaze boring into me. “But I don’t much care.”

My breath is so shallow that my head swims a little. Do I care? At this moment? I would crawl over glass to kiss him.

His lips brush over mine, and time stops. His lips are softer than I could have imagined, and for a moment I forget how to kiss. How to do literally anything. I don’t move, but my eyes flutter closed as I share his breath. He feathers his lips over mine again, and his fingers tunnel into my hair, tightening into a fist. His other hand is on my waist, pulling me closer.

Slowly, I open for him, and the second his tongue flicks against my lips and slides into my mouth, I am completely undone. I’m not sure at what point I grasped his shirt, but it’s now crumpled in my fisted hand.

I moan, and when he tangles his tongue with mine, I can’t help but deepen the kiss. He groans and backs me up until I’m pressed against the pillar of the gazebo, his mouth moving insistently on mine, and just like on the dance floor, I eagerly follow his lead. His rings dig into me, and the pain makes my eyes roll. I rock my hips against him, seeking friction and so much more. He pulls back reluctantly, both of us panting and clinging to each other.

“Let me make you come,” he whispers desperately.

It’s almost a plea, but his lips descend on mine again before I can process the question, much less answer. I dig my fingers into his hair, and when he bites my lip hard, I moan desperately for him. My pussy throbs with need, and I know I’m drenched. I can feel the liquid heat sliding down my thighs.

“Let me make you come, little fae,” he groans into the kiss.

Fuck, how do I say no to this? How do I stop this? How do I deny him?

I know we shouldn’t, but . . .

Fuck.

His hand trails from my hip to between my legs, and when he feels how fucking wet my panties are, he snarls ferally.

“We-we shouldn’t,” I say, though my voice is so embarrassingly unconvincing.

“We should,” he corrects, kissing me again. His voice is laden with a desperate need that mirrors my own. “We should, Summer.”

Something about the way he says my name, about the fact that this is the first time he has ever said my name to me, completely undoes me.

“Make me come,” I moan, giving in to what we both want.

His growl against my lips sends a thrill through me. He slides his hand into my panties, and with the first brush of his finger over my clit, I feel my orgasm building. I have been so desperate for this, so fucking ready for it. My body has been thrumming with need since we got here, since I heard what he did for me, that he killed for me.

“Mine,” he growls, slowly sliding one finger inside my pussy as he rubs his erection against my hip. “So fucking tight. I’d tear you in half.”

I moan, greedily opening my thighs and rocking my hips, needing more from him. He teases me with shallow thrusts of his finger, but then he slowly gives me it all and works a second finger inside me. My pussy throbs and tightens around his finger, my slick walls clenching around him. My clit is pulsing, aching for some attention, but I know he’s avoiding it. He wants to prolong this.

He kisses me deeply as he thrusts his fingers inside me, and he rubs his cock against my hip, moaning ferally. When I answer with a pained whimper, he brushes my clit with his thumb in reward. My orgasm coils inside me, desperate to spring, but he’s not ready yet. He eases the pressure on my clit and scissors his fingers in my cunt, stretching me as he carefully works at fitting a third thick finger inside me. The fullness is almost unbearable, but the pleasure is so fucking intense that I rock my hips, wanting even more. It’s not enough. I want him inside me. I need to feel him inside me.

He brushes my clit again, and this time he doesn’t stop. He bites my lip hard as he thrusts his fingers inside me over and over, his thumb strumming my clit rhythmically. I twist my hands in his shirt, instinctively holding him here, making sure he doesn’t stop. My whole body tightens, my muscles quivering as slick pours from my core, wetting his hand. I lift one leg, bracing it against his thigh as he masterfully builds my orgasm. It’s going to fucking destroy me, but I don’t care. I need it. Desperately.

Fuck.

He curls his fingers inside ‌me and presses down against my clit. Everything explodes. I practically scream from the intensity, my vision sparking at the edges. My entire body feels like it is no longer under my control, nothing but an amalgamation of transcendent pleasure. I may not know what to do with my body right now, but he does. He tightens his hand on me, holding me up as he guides me through the cataclysmic event.

He slows his fingers but doesn’t pull them out. Gentling me with light caresses to my clit, his touch makes me gasp and tighten with how sensitive I am. He pants into my mouth, and I can feel the feral, desperate energy radiating from him.

“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growls into my lips.

He slips his fingers from me and brushes them over my clit once more. This time, there is a bite of delicious pain, and I gasp, my thighs trembling. “Something to remember this moment,” he says, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking on them. I swallow as I watch him, the continued throbbing in my clit prolonging the haze of my orgasm. He leans in and kisses me again, so deep it takes my breath away.

“This was a mistake,” he moans, and I tense a little. “Because now that I’ve kissed you, I will be the last male you ever kiss.” He growls possessively and licks my bottom lip.