Page 58 of The Fae Lord

“I’m here,” I whisper.

She presses the drawing to her chest, then she shuffles back on the bed and lies down. Resting her head on the pillow, she blows out the candle next to the bed and the room descends into a flickering half-light, illuminated only by the lantern by the dressing table.

With the drawing pressed to her chest, she runs her other hand down her body, over her breasts, and her hips, and her thighs.

Her nipples pebble beneath her touch, stiffening into peaks I want to seal my mouth over.

I stand beside her, watching as she opens her robe and her legs.

Her fingers find her clit and begin to draw small, soft circles.

Arousal washes over me like a distant wave. One I can see but can’t quite catch hold of.

She closes her eyes and whispers my name.

I move so I’m on top of her, straddling her. Beneath me, her hands are moving furiously now, and her breath is coming in quick gasps.

Her face is flushed.

She pulls down her nightdress and exposes her breasts.

I dip my head and run my tongue over them. I cannot feel her, cannot taste her, but her eyes spring open and her lips part as if she felt something.

I try again, watching her face as I flick my invisible tongue over her sweet pink buds. She breathes harder, her chest heaving, leaning up into the whisper of my touch.

Then I sit back. I look at my hands. She can’t see them or feel them, but maybe...

I hold them above her body, allow my fingers to levitate above her skin, then I search for the moisture in the air. I pull it towards her, cool it, and send it like a soft breeze to caress her skin.

When she moans louder, I dip down between her legs and blow soft bursts of air onto her clit.

She tilts her hips towards me and calls my name again.

My cock is hard. I didn’t even know that was possible, but I’m not resisting it. I reach down and wrap my hand around myself as I continue to play with the air around her pussy. Making her think she’s doing it to herself, creating these new and unexpected sensations.

When her skin grows warm, and flushed, I know she’s close.

I’d recognise that expression anywhere; the one she wears when she’s about to come.

She combs her fingers through her hair. Her body arches. She cries out, then grabs a pillow and uses it to soften the moans coming from her lips.

The picture she was holding slides off her chest onto the floor.

I come before she does, but it is the strangest sensation. An orgasm without ejaculation. A burst of energy that fizzes and then disappears as quickly as it appeared.

Rosalie lies still for a moment, eyes closed. She is crying again.

No, no, no. Don’t cry. I’m here.

I curl next to her and wrap my arms around her. But she doesn’t feel me. She has no idea I’m here.

She is still crying when her bedroom door flings open on its hinges. It clatters back, hitting the wall hard. She starts upright and pulls her nightdress up, reaching for her robe.

In the doorway is the Sunborne fae who bought her at auction. I’d know his stance anywhere.

His lecherous eyes graze her body. He rests one hand on his rotund stomach, and continues to leer, smirking as he says, “Well, well, well. You could have called for me, Rosalie, if you were... in need.”

Rosalie’s expression hardens, and bile settles in my gut.

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