Page 3 of How to Keep a Fae

The clatter of his belt hitting the ground is unbearably loud.

I blink as he thrusts his pants down. A small gasp escapes my lips as he fists his fat cock taking a leisurely stroke that makes my mouth water.

“I’ll just go clean up then,” he says, releasing his cock, which is already hard and bobbing with interest.

My throat turns parched. I step forward in a trance. “Don’t mind it,” I say. His rich alpha pheromones are making me tingle everywhere. I can see pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock, and have to have a taste.

I drop to my knees before him.

“Fuck,” he mutters gruffly.

My fingers boldly wrap around his thick length, stroking tentatively.

I’m a feeder. My body is designed for him to take, to taste, to touch. To fuck if he chooses, and they invariably do. A feeder does not take. And yet I am taking.

I don’t think I’ve ever done this before. When they are seriously wounded, it feels like a frenzy consuming me. But this, this is different. I don’t know where my forwardness comes from. But I am lowering the head of his cock and parting my lips slightly as I lean forward.

I kiss the tip gently and lick the taste from my lips.

“Fuck, lass! You don’t need to… For the love of all things sacred, get up before I lose my damn mind.”

I don’t get up. Nor do I release him, but I do glance up.

A mistake.

He is a wall of towering, rippling muscle—primal. He is alpha.

“Please let me,” I beg.

“Fuck it. As if I’m going to say no?” His fingers tangle in my hair, a light touch that offers encouragement. “Go ahead, lass. Take what you need.”

I part my lips and enclose the head in my mouth. The taste hits me even before I swipe my tongue over the crown. I whimper. When has anything ever tasted this good? Humming, I take him deeper, lavishing his hot flesh with my tongue.

He huffs a ragged breath. “So pretty. So precious. Is that better now?”

My answer is a deeper, contented hum. My cheeks turn hollow as I suck him gently, bobbing my head in a rhythm as my hand works the length. I press my other palm against his thigh to steady me, feeling him tremble beneath it.

His fingers flex and relax against my scalp.

I work my fingers up and down him, encouraging the seed to spill so I can lap it up. Heat pools low in my belly and sparks pleasure into my clit. I’m dripping wet for him, saturating my panties underneath my silk gown; my breasts are heavy and full, and my blood is pounding through my veins.

What I do is not necessary. It adds no value save it is a pleasure to me. If his low growls and huffed breaths are any indication, it is assuredly a pleasure to him.

“What are you doing to me? Sweet heaven. I’d swear if I’d known a sweet little thing like you was hiding down here all this time, I’d have been throwing myself at orc clubs. Gods. I’m going to come.”

My fingers tighten around his cock. My other hand cups his ass like that might stop him from taking my prize away.

“Goddess have mercy. You’re a test,” he rumbles.

He begins to thrust his hips forward, surging a little deeper. I like the edge of tempered aggression and that I am the one making him this way.

Feeders do not initiate. We barely get a chance. They rut us swiftly, taking us down into our nest. They are the ones who taste. But this is me choosing. This is glorious.

I want him to come inside my mouth. It is my one and only thought.

He growls. His fingers tighten at the back of my neck before the first hot gush spills onto my waiting tongue.

I swallow, suck him deeper just as another hot splash fills my mouth. The taste and heady scent—his alpha pheromones—crawl under my skin. As his seed spills down my throat, my world narrows to the hot flesh within my mouth, caught between my lips.

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