Page 33 of How To Please A Princely Fae

Sex.

A rasping chuckle comes out of me. Her hands tremble as she replaces the stopper on the crystal vial and sets it aside.

"What—what is so funny?" she asks. Her voice is deliciously hoarse, and I love that I've caused the shift in her speech— and in the scent and carriage of her body.

I caused that.

"Because no matter what your voice tells me," I murmur to her soothingly, my lips brushing against the delectable shell of her ear, pink flushing up the nape of her neck beneath the goosebumps. "I can scent your cunt's readiness to take me."

Chapter 9

WILLOW

Ifear my heart, beating louder than any drum I've ever heard, may simply take flight like a bird and burst through the cage of my body.

Of all the things I expected Kieran might say, telling me he could smellmeand myarousalwas not one of them.

What's worse is that I can't call him a liar because from the moment his skin touched mine, wanting more was about the only thing I could think of. Wanting to feel the electric caress of his fingers against more than my neck, and more interesting and varied places than my cheeks, was about all I could focus on.

Lucky for me, I have morals. Morals which tell me that taking him up on his very enticing offer would be very wrong.

“The caudron smoke must be addling your head," I tell him politely.

He huffs a laugh and tightens his grip on my hair.

"I see you insist on continuing this game of ours," he says smoothly. His grip loosens, but only infinitesimally.

The only reason I'm aware of it at all is because my body's never been so aware of everything all at once.

I try to pull away, but his hand wraps around the nape of my neck. I’m pulled me back to him before I make any progress with that particular goal. Wetness seeps between my legs and I make an embarrassingly soft mewling noise.

"The thing is, my Willow witch…" His lips brush against my neck and I arch into him, the soft curve of my ass pressed against the hardness in his pants. Hardness that I'm suddenly even more interested in.

I very much like everything that he is doing at this very moment.

He knows it, too. I’m not sure I like that, at least.

"The thing is, you overestimate my patience, and you underestimate how much I enjoy playing a game when the prize is already right in front of me."

His fangs scrape against the place where my neck meets my shoulder, and there's no denying the need in the desperate moan that escapes me now. His breath tickles my skin when he laughs, his teeth pressing harder into me, the length of him somehow growing harder and larger than even before.

Goddess.

He must be massive. I whimper as his arm circles my waist, strong hand finding my breast.

"Will you lie to me, my Willow?” he asks, his voice all but a growl against my skin. The pressure of his teeth, of his body, increasing the longer he holds me like this.

I don't want him to let me go.

"Will you tell me that you are thinking of someone else? That it's not me that you're responding to so perfectly in my arms, at this very moment?"

There's an unhinged ferocity in the questions that I've never heard from him before. Every inch of me heats in response to the possessive edge around it.

Who would have thought I wanted to be man-handled?

Or would it be fae-handled?

"Are you trying to think of the words that will best deceive me, Willow?”

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