Page 67 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

She’s already blossomed like a fall rose under my care this morning. Her cheeks are flushed from the last orgasm I pushed her to, her skin soft and clean. I loved every minute of rubbing the delicately scented oil into her warm flesh after her bath.

I loved licking her until she shuddered and collapsed over me, and if I thought I was obsessed with her before, it has nothing on how I feel after knotting her.

I can be patient.

I wouldn’t have made it centuries in the Underhill if I couldn’t be.

She’s curled by the fire, her sea-blue eyes rolling over page after page in the leather-bound geology book she seems to think will tell her exactly where her dragon sapphires are.

The rain’s still coming down hard outside, her familiar Fenn appearing late this morning wet and put-out after being out in the storm. The cobblestone streets beneath her snug apartment are flooded, a river of water replacing the population of Wild Oak Woods.

Her store is closed as a result, as are most of the stores, everyone with good sense staying home.

The soup I’m making is one I remember my mother teaching me centuries ago, full of rich broth and tender meat and nutritious vegetables.

With any luck, it will help heal the sore places on Wren’s feet, as well as any lingering pain from our night together.

My cock beads with moisture at the mere memory.

“Do you want to try looking for the sapphires again tomorrow?” I ask her, gritting my teeth and trying to get my aching cock to stand down.

The thought of cave delving should do the trick.

Unfortunately, the only cave I can think about delving is hers, and my cock grows even harder.

“I would like to find them as soon as I can.” Her voice is faraway, her focus homed in on the book in her hands.

Fenn sits at my feet, his tail slapping against the floor, and, sighing, I dip the ladle into the stew and fish a piece of meat out for him.

He chirps happily, slurping it off the floor.

If I thought it smelled like wet dog when the Seelie brownie was here, it has nothing on the fox musk her familiar’s emitting.

I’ll have to figure out a way to fix that.

“Do you think it will continue to storm for long?” The question’s mild, but my emotions are anything but.

I would very much like to stay with this woman for the next month while it rains.

Alas, I fear a monsoon is too much to wish for.

“It will probably let up tonight,” she says. Her arms stretch overhead, and she points her bare feet.

Delighted, I watch her body shift under her loose dress, only to frown as my cock nudges against my pants.

“I should go inventory,” she says glumly, snapping the book shut. “I’m not getting anywhere with this.”

“The bread I made should be ready any second.” It won’t be as good as the baker witch next door’s, but I’ve met very few creatures who could pass up bread fresh from the oven.

I don’t want her to inventory. I don’t want her hunched over her jewelry bench, or designing something to enchant with the dragon sapphires.

I want her naked and in my lap. I want to play with her while she comes over and over again, until she’s addicted to my touch.

“Thank you for cooking.” She licks her lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” Such a strange thing for her to say. “Why wouldn’t I cook for us? For you?”

Her face turns slightly strange, and I peer at her. “What are you thinking about now?”

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