Page 88 of By the Fae

She was ready.

Holly’s ready!

My knees threatened to give way.

I had to confirm. Make sure I wasn’t taking advantage of her. “Say it, baby girl. Say the whole thing.”

“I want you to fuck me, Goldie.”

I cried out, buried my face in the juncture of her jaw, ground myself against her.

That was why Holly never swore. So that when she did, it would have this kind of reaction. I yanked the skirt of her dress right up her thighs and pulled her into a seated position on my hips. The perfect kissing height. The perfect rub-my-cock-against-the-underside-of-her-knickers height. She wound her legs around me.

I carried Holly up the stairs and pinned her to the wall next to my bedroom. Dragged my tongue down her throat, digging it into the hollow at the base, covering it with my mouth, sucking, biting. Devouring her soft, salty, sweaty skin.

She whined, that beautiful whine I knew was only for me, and scraped her fingernails up the back of my neck into my hair. Her head fell back against the wall, her greedy pussy already bucking against me, already frantically searching for that friction.

I could barely pull my focus enough to ask her the question.

Her hand slid down my bare chest, leaving a trail of goose-pimples and quivering muscles, and she slipped the tips of her fingers into the waistband of my sweatpants.

“Holly, wait, baby girl. I need to ask you . . . Where?”

She swung blown-out pupils to me.

“Where do you want me to take you? Where . . .” Gods, I might’ve been able to concentrate if my dick wasn’t so painfully hard. “I’m going to fuck you now. It’s our first time. It needs to be special. If you could choose anywhere in the Eight and a Half Kingdoms to let me inside you, where would that be?”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere. I’ll glamour it for you.”

Holly pulled my head down, paused, and whispered against my neck, “Where would you choose?”

My heart stilled. Of all the people I’d brought home with me, no one had ever flipped the question. No one ever cared to find out where I’d choose.

“The Kingdom,” I said eventually.

I wanted to fuck Holly. Desperate to. But also, I wanted to show her another piece of me. Where I grew up. Where I spent the first two and a half centuries of my life. Not the game version of the Kingdom. Or the version hanging on the living room walls.

It felt like opening another little trapdoor in my heart to Holly. One I already knew I’d have trouble closing.

My last remaining life.

“Take me there,” she said, her breath erupting every single nerve ending in my body.

I wrapped my hands around her backside, kicked the door open, stepped inside, and fought back a sob.

Where the walls of my room had been, lush undergrowth now filled the space. Leaves as big as cars. Tropical flowers in pinks, and purples, and whites. Feathery ferns, and humongous spiky gunneras, and delicate jewel-toned acers. In the centre, a shallow, glistening pool. A hot spring. Bird song, foreign, exotic. The soft ribbit of frogs nearby. The distant roar of a waterfall.

“Goldie, it’s beautiful,” she said. “It looks so real.”

“It’s all real, baby girl,” I said into her hair, realising we were probably talking about different things.

“It’s better than the game.”

I carried Holly up to the pool, climbed up the smooth rocks, and dropped to my knees on the other side. I placed her down on her back, the lower half of her body submerged up to her waist, her top half on the sandy bank.

“It’s warm,” she said, spreading her arms out and stroking the water. “How? How do you do this? It’s . . . magic.”

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