Page 32 of Unravel Me

The fae responds. He glides up along my slightly damp body with that peculiar, almost serpentine grace, swaying first one way, then the other, brushing the tip of his tongue over my ribs, my nipples, my collarbones. Then I feel it again on my neck gland, then near my ear, his breath ghosting over the shell of it.

At the same time, I feel his girthy cock slide along my thigh until it reaches the place that feels far too empty, pressing lightly against the slick entrance.

"Yes… there," I murmur.

He eases into me slowly, inch by inch, giving my body time to stretch around his sheer size. The feeling of being filled satisfies my primal needs, and I immerse myself in this completely, relishing the process as my eyes flutter shut in bliss.

"Fuck me, please," I moan, and he begins moving with a rhythm that's almost meditative. Long, slow thrusts that let me feel every ridge of his cock passing through my tunnel. All the while, he keeps looking straight into my face, another thing I'm not used to. Mark always preferred taking me from behind, almost anonymously, and on the rare occasions we faced each other, he'd bury his face against my shoulder. That's why this eye contact feels almost startling, unfamiliar. Because what am I supposed to do with my eyes? What expression should I wear while being plowed? Heat creeps into my cheeks, but I don't look away. I keep my gaze boldly locked on him.

He keeps rocking between my thighs with smooth, unhurried strokes, taking me, possessing me, and under that steady rhythm and the relentless burn of my heat, my body begins responding in rising waves.

Multiorgasming is a normal part of heats. My fingers clutch at his shoulders as I come once, then again not long afterward, then a third time. They aren't explosive climaxes, but soft, intensely sweet waves sweeping over me, easing the ache until I'm close to being satiated, but still leaving this tiny little flicker of wanting more.

Only a knot can bring that kind of complete fulfillment, but I can't expect something like that from someone I don't know, especially without the emotional closeness such intimacy requires. Things like that take time.

Even so, through sheer persistence and time, as I near my sixth orgasm and my body shimmers with a layer of sheen, the much-needed relief finally begins to spread through me. I feel the tension draining from my muscles until I become strangely light, almost weightless, my body going completely slack.

At last, wrapped in the slow, steady glide of his cock inside me, feeling hazily blissful, I feel my eyelids growing heavy on their own.

The exhaustion of the day finally catches up with me. His movements become almost like a lullaby as I drift away, forgetting the world, the fear, and everything I left behind, falling asleep in the arms of the green entity who still fills me with slow, gentle strokes.

◆◆◆

I open my eyes.

For a moment, I look around without knowing where I am, but the haze clears quickly. I'm lying on a bed inside the house where the green being carried me. A warm fur blanket is draped over me.

My hair lies beside me in a… braid.

Wait, what? I stare at it for a long moment, turning the end between my fingers. I haven't gone crazy, I didn't braid it! Apparently, while I was asleep, the fae did.

I sit there with my mouth slightly open, staring at my hair, and a strange thought crosses my mind. During all the years I was with Mark, he never braided my hair, not even once. Maybe he simply didn't know how, but the green dude apparently does, and he did it…

It's strangely sweet. Maybe he didn't want my hair to get tangled?

Whenever I had sex with Mark, I always had to keep my hair tightly braided because he never cared if strands got caught beneath us. He'd keep pulling until it hurt, completely ignoring my whimpers. So having sex with my hair loose is something entirely new to me too.

I sit up and look around for the entity, but he's nowhere to be seen.

For a moment, anxiety grips me. What if he's gone forever, leaving me here at the very beginning of my heat?

Then something far more alarming hits me.

My phone is still in my backpack, the one I tossed aside in the clearing where we had sex for the first time. Damn it, I have to get it back and let everyone know I'm alive.

I swing my legs off the bed, only to realize I left my pants in that clearing too. I curse under my breath. All I have is my jacket, my boots somehow, and my bare ass.

I carefully look around the room. There's no obvious wardrobe, but I notice there are actually two sets of doors, not just the ones I assume lead to the bathroom. I open the other pair and find a tiny second room, almost like a pantry. It's filled with food supplies, but there are wardrobes in there as well.

I feel guilty rummaging through someone else's belongings, but I have to find a way back to that clearing. I need to make use of this brief break between the heat waves.

Inside one wardrobe, I find clothes that look like something a forester, hunter, or maybe a ranger would wear. Green jackets, thick warm hoodies, military-style cargo pants, tactical pants.

Wow… umm.

What if whoever owns this place is some lunatic hiding out in the woods, shooting people?

Fuck. What if he comes back and finds me here, naked and spread open? I don't even have my gun. Without it, he'd probably take advantage of me.