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Once he finishes with my second tit, he leans back. I miss his warmth almost instantly.
His golden eyes gleam as he looks down at me. “Stay here.”
“Trust me,” I tell him, lying flat on my back where he put me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And not just because we’re in a prison cell, either.
Rys continues to stare, a strange expression flitting across his face before he blinks, banishing it. In the next second, lust makes his eyelids go heavy, his inhumanely beautiful face watching me with such reverence, it’s like he can’t believe that I’m here.
It… actually makes me a little uncomfortable. This is just sex, right? This is just scratching an itch. I’m desperate for something to touch me like they care, and Rys gets strength out of this. And I owe him. After everything he did for me while we were in the oubliette, he can touch any part of me that he wants.
Except he’s too far for me to reach, and he told me to stay put.
“What are you staring at?” I ask, purposely putting a teasing note in his voice? “I thought you wanted to touch me, Rys, not look at me.”
His lips curve into a suddenly wolfish grin. It’s not threatening, though. Far from it. My scarred Seelie looks like he wants to gobble me up.
“Who says I can’t do both?” he asks. And then, before I can come up with my own retort, he lowers his long, slender, skillful fingers to my jeans. He pops the button like he’s done it a thousand times before—and I shove that thought way out of my head as soon as I have it—and then commands me to lift up.
Once I lift my ass from the edge of the cot, he shimmies my jeans past my hips, past my thighs, past my knees. He takes care to remove one of my boots, then the next before tugging my jeans completely off.
By the time he finally reaches for my panties, I want to scream.
Jesus Christ, who’s supposed to be seducing who, here?
I think he can tell that I’m getting a little frustrated. With a whisper of a laugh that I feel all the way to my core, Rys slips my panties off, leaving them in a neat pile with the rest of my clothes. In the back of my mind, I’m impressed at how thoughtful he’s being since we both know that those are the only pair I have in here. But that’s the back of my mind. In the lust-fueled haze of my libido, I wouldn’t have given a shit if he ripped them off with his teeth, I want him so badly.
To my everlasting relief, he makes quick work of his own clothes. The pristine white prison uniform is two pieces. He removes his shirt, then shucks his bottoms.
Holy shit. He’s not wearing any underwear at all. Before I’m ready for it, I get my first peek at his erection and it is glorious.
Good decision, Hel, I tell myself.
The first thing I notice after I can rip my gaze away from his cock is that Rys is completely hairless. Except for the long, wavy hair growing from his head and his perfectly shaped eyebrows, there isn’t a single piece of hair on the rest of him. In the oubliette, when my fingers traced his chest, I discovered that he was smooth there.
Staring at the proud jutting out from his crotch, I can definitely see that he’s smooth there, too. Almost like he waxes or something, but I doubt it. Maybe it’s a fae thing? Probably.
Whatever.
I’m naked. He’s naked.
Let’s do this.
I lift up my arms, gesturing with my hands for him to come back to me. With a hungry look and nothing left to stop him, he does. I open my legs up, spreading them even wider when Rys wedges his body between them. I expect him to take up the same position, hovering over me, and I’m ready for him to climb on top of me.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he sinks to his knees in front of the cot before gripping me by my waist. My ass scoots across the narrow mattress, bringing my pussy in line with his mouth.
Is he—
No way—
Oh, yes.
I stifle my moan, not sure how loud it’ll carry as Rys buries his face in my pussy and starts to lick. The next wing? Half of Siúcra? No promises that I’ll be able to keep the next one back—I’ve always been a bit of a screamer which made for some awkward conversations with some nearby city neighbors—but I bite down on my lip in an attempt to muffle it when Rys uses his tongue to nuzzle my clit.
He doesn’t stop. He just keeps going. My knees start to quake as my first orgasm builds. I prop my hips up, bracing the bottom of my feet against the edge of the cot. I need support and, as the pressure grows, my sense of self-preservation has me looking for some way to escape the heat of his mouth and the skillful strokes of his masterful tongue.
It’s too much. The wave building is gonna crash into me. I don’t know if I can take it.
