Page 83 of The Blight of Hollowmire

Renard’s laugh vibrates through my belly, and I marvel at how lovely it is, and how rarely I’ve been able to enjoy it. It feels like we haven’t been able to enjoy much lately, save for a few decent meals here and there, and the occasional majestic landscape. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I truly laughed before rescuing Renard, but I’m certain it’s been an age.

This journey has brought a great many hardships, but here, now, in the fresh light of an autumn dawn, I feel… happy. Despite its flaws, this world has a great many things worth saving, and as I watch my handsome farmer knight shuck his shirt and breeches, I vow to myself that I will not be the one to destroy it.

His body is better than I’ve dreamed—all corded muscle and sinew, decorated with scars that show his victories and his losses, yet every one of them makes him who he is.

“Would you help me take my shift off?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more beautiful, more perfect question in all my life,” he says, kneeling before me and helping me tug the soft fabric over my head. Before I can get the fabric over my face, I feel Renard’s lips on my breasts again and I collapse back onto the moss with a satisfying moan.

Nudging my legs apart, Renard settles above me, his hard cock poised at my slick entrance, his face framed by the pink sky and drifting purple clouds. It strikes me that I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life, and I’m embarrassed to feel hot tears pressing against my eyes.

Renard halts, panic flashing across his face.

“Oh no, Vireth, are you well? Do you wish to stop? I haven’t harmed you, have I?”

“I wouldn’t stop if the world was ending, Renard. I am simply enjoying the moment.”

He eyes me warily, descending to take my mouth in a kiss so sweet, so tender, the tears begin to flow despite my best efforts.

“Please. I need this,” I say softly. “I need you.”

“You have me,” he replies, the steadiness of his voice belying the tension in his body. “I’m here.”

But he doesn’t move—not yet—likely waiting for me to agree to this, giving me one last chance to stop before we both tumble over a precipice neither of us fully comprehends yet. His kisses move down to my jaw, and my neck, and when his lips find the point of my ear he gives it a slow lick and lights a fire in my blood anew.

“It’s unwise to tease a fae,” I whimper.

He smirks, lowering one hand to caress my breast and flick his thumb across my nipple. I arch up into his hand, wanting—needing—more.

“You are the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers. The naked honesty in his eyes tells me this is so, despite my doubts and my insecurities. “If I died tomorrow, my last thought would be of your face when you find your pleasure—the way your mouth softens, and your eyes sparkle. The rosebud blush of your cheeks, the dark pink of your nipples. Your eyes like garnets dropped in the snow. Your hair like woven moonlight. Your perfect cunt, so warm and wet and welcoming to me—a lowly farmer who will never deserve you.”

At that, he lowers his fingers to dip between my folds, still dripping with arousal for him, and I moan.

“Is this for me?” he groans, circling the pearl of pleasure at the top of my sex that’s swollen and aching for more. “Are you wet when you think of me? Did you watch me touch myself before, stroking my cock over and over to thoughts of you—to my own fantasies of how you might taste here?”

He slips a finger inside me and I buck up against him, going mad with want.

“Yes,” I answer. “Yes, I watched you.”

His finger slides in and out, slowly at first, and his thumb begins to press against that needy little bud, sending sparks of pleasure arcing outward through my limbs.

“And?”

His mouth is on my nipple, laving it gently with his tongue before he closes his teeth around it ever-so-slightly, then sucks it into his mouth.

“And I loved it,” I mewl. “I touched myself after watching you. I couldn’t help it. I wanted you, Renard—I want you. Please. I want you inside me—I want to shatter with you.”

A growl that’s desperate and helpless and wild wrenches itself from his mouth and he pulls back for the briefest of moments.

“As you wish,” he says, breathlessly.

He grasps his cock and slides the tip through my wet slit, earning another groan from us both, before he thrusts into me with one smooth motion. The sensation is almost enough to make me climax from the sheer perfection of how we fit together, how hard and hot and thick he is—filling me in a way that begins to calm the aching void inside of me.

His eyes are squeezed shut, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds himself steady and tries to swallow the deep, guttural whimper of need.

“Are you well?” he rasps again.

“Gods yes. At least I will be when you stop teasing me and fuck me like we’ve both wanted for ages.”