Page 65 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

His spend leaks out of me, and he gives me a fully lascivious look before splashing as much as he can down the drain.

“I fucking love the way you look with my cum dripping out of your pretty pink cunt,” he growls, nipping at my ear. Despite the soreness, I shiver, wondering how bad it would be if we did have sex again.

Worth it, most likely.

“Look how your body responds to me already,” he says, smirking, plucking at one nipple.

I moan, arching into his touch, but he just laughs and gives me a devilish look.

One I like very, very much.

“Let me clean you up, sweet Wren,” he soothes, and I nudge the drain shut, too tired and sore to argue with him.

Why would I? Getting pampered by Caelan sounds fantastic, thank you very much.

He opens the wooden armoire set against the wall, locating a fresh washcloth and soap as I lean against the back of the tub, eyes half-closed.

Grapefruit and rosemary fill the air as he lathers up the washcloth, taking pains to gently pull my hair out of the way as he massages my sore body slowly.

The knots and kinks built up from years of hunching over my jeweler’s bench dissolve under his careful touch, and I hiss as he works at an especially painful spot under my shoulder blade.

“You know, you really ought to take better care of yourself,” he says mildly, his fingers still kneading the spot. “Good thing you have me to do so now. You’d fall apart in a few more years.”

I open my mouth to object to his censure, but he kisses the back of my neck and a shiver of pleasure renders me quiet.

The hot water’s past my navel now, and I drowse as he rubs the washcloth all over my body, not missing a single bit of skin and paying special attention to all the tight muscles in my hands and wrists.

“Stand up,” he commands, holding my waist as I sleepily do as he says. “I do like how quickly you did that,” he says, brushing his mouth over a freshly cleaned hip before he bites it playfully.

I moan, my knees going weak, my body already ready for him again.

“Such a compliant, good little witch,” he says, and I go hot all over at the praise.

He runs his fingers down my thigh, the washcloth following, and I relax under his ministrations again, telling myself I have too much to do today to spend it knotted in bed with him, no matter how tempting the idea.

No matter how much my body loves the idea of it.

No, I need to pinpoint the location of the dragon sapphire. I have gems and metal shavings and even herbs to inventory still. I have a few pieces I’d like to add to my store in the next month.

And I need to plan something masterful for the dragon sapphires once we beat the dwarves to them.

“Your forehead’s creased,” he mutters, running the washcloth over my calves. My skin is warm and slick with soap, and it glides effortlessly. “What is going on in that lovely head of yours, Wren?”

“Just thinking,” I tell him.

“Then I’m not taking my job seriously enough.”

“What do you—” I screech, a totally unsexy sound, as he catches me around the waist and throws my soaped up leg over one shoulder.

His hand finds my sex, and the noise abruptly turns into a groan as he glides his soapy hand between my folds, finding my clit with precise, gentle movements.

“You didn’t think I was going to forget about cleaning this, did you?”

My breath hiccups as he pours a stream of hot water over it, rinsing the suds from my swollen pussy.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he grins up at me, then blows cold air across it.

I moan, my hands scrabbling at his shoulders.

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