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“Touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
I gave a guttural cry and reached for his head, but he pushed me flat against the bed with one hand and used the other to spread me apart. But all he did was stare.
“Forgive me, sweet creature,” he said. “You must be starved.”
Then he licked me, circling my clit, and I thought I might die from the rush of it, from the sheer pleasure that twisted low in my stomach and threaded throughout my body.
“Fuck.” I lowered toward him, spreading my legs farther, and he took the invitation, slipping a finger inside me, then two. “Yes.”
It did not matter that he had just done this earlier; it felt even better now. His touch and tongue were different, far more intense. I felt all of him and everything, as if my body were one exposed nerve, every part of me pulsating around him.
I never expected this strange fae to become the center of my universe, but I would lie beneath him forever if I could feel like this every second of every day.
Here, where there was no pain and no loss.
Here, where I was not alone.
I reached for his head, grinding into him, and a sound I had never made came from deep in my throat as he chased my pleasure. The pressure built and built, and I could no longer contain the sounds escaping my mouth.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I whispered until my words broke on a sob, and I came against his mouth so hard my body shook. As Casamir pulled away and pressed kisses to my lower stomach and up and over my chest, he was breathless, and still, he kissed me, desperate, as if he had gone too long without me.
His body was warm and damp against mine. I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his cock. He was hard and soft at the same time, and he groaned against my mouth as I touched him.
When he pulled away, he must have understood the desire in my eyes because he drew his finger over my lips and answered, “Only if you wish it.”
I would correct him and tell him I never wish for anything, but this, I wished for.
We traded positions, and as he stretched before me, I stared, eyes roving the planes of his chest and the swell of his arousal, which pressed against his stomach. He was beautiful and it made my heart ache.
I met his gaze.
“You were made for this,” I said.
He smiled and asked, “Made for what, sweet creature?”
Pleasure, I wanted to say.Sex.
But instead, I answered, “Heartbreak.”
He remained still, but there was an edge to his expression that told me he did not disagree. If he was going to speak, I did not know, because I kissed him, pressing my lips to his stomach as he had done to mine.
He held himself up but reclined, moving my hair over my shoulder. I could feel his cock between my breasts as I moved down his body, and when the crown touched my chin, I shifted and closed my mouth over the tip.
Casamir took a breath, and I looked up at him as I released him and licked him from root to tip before taking him into my mouth again. He braced his hands behind him, his head falling back, neck exposed as I worked.
His breath came heavier and he moaned louder. His fingers threaded through my hair, but they did not tighten.
“Fuck,” he said, his voice airy. “You are a sweet thing.”
Come beaded thickly from the tip of his cock, and it tasted salty on my tongue. I thought of all the times he had come inside me last night, how I had demanded it and wanted it again.
I did not know what he was feeling as I touched him and sucked him, but I felt the power of having him in my hands and mouth—I controlled his very breath, and right now it was ragged.
It made me ache for him, and when I released him, I climbed up his body and pressed my mouth hard to his before rolling so that I was beneath him.
He rested between my legs, fingers brushing strands of my hair from my face.
