Page 23 of Till Kingdom Come

I was very afraid that Dark Fairies might be evil, or had that possibility within them, but I couldn’t seem to stop yearning toward Bracca and touching him all over. I no longer cared if I went to hell—perhaps it would be worth it for one night in his arms. He pushed my hand away as he stripped off my clothing with a muttered curse, as I was no doubt interfering more than helping with anything.

He was running his hands over my body, while still managing to kiss me with real passion. I put my hands over his arms, trying to pull him down on top of me, and I could feel the muscles rippling down those arms. All the while, he was murmuring to me in soft, unintelligible words that were making my whole body weak. His kisses had a drugging effect on me. His lips were warm and full, and I pressed my mouth against them. He ground into it, sighing into my inexperienced attempts at kissing him and caressing my tongue with his gently, while his big hands sweetly, maddeningly massaged the cheeks of my naked ass. I was being ravished and I loved every second of it. I wondered if I might have actually died and gone to heaven. He flipped me over on my stomach and put a hand under me to lift me up.

I stopped struggling to help and gave in, allowing him to arrange me any way he liked. I felt his mouth down there sliding over my entrance again and again, in that most intimate of kisses—didn’t the priests call that the devil’s kiss? It was supposed to be a ritual greeting upon meeting with the Devil. It was also called the shameful kiss, since it involved kissing the anus. According to folklore, it was this kiss that allowed the Devil to seduce others. I was too shocked to move at first and then I began to squirm and try to get away. Not because he was hurting me or I didn’t like it, but because it was too good. The wet heat was making my head spin and the thought of what he was doing to me was making me blush from the toes up. He held me there though and once he slapped my ass to make me be still. It was excruciating. It was the worst and the most exciting, pleasurable thing that had ever happened to me.

He left me for a moment to get something, he said. I could hardly think by then. He came back with oil, kneeling over me and applying it liberally to my most private parts. I groaned and strained away but he patiently pulled me back.

“I have to get you ready. Be still,a chuisle.”

But how could I be still with him doing what he was doing to me? His fingers were inside me, stretching and massaging until I thought I’d go mad. I begged him; I cried out; I beat against the mattress. He ignored it all and kept going. Finally, finally he pressed his prick inside me and eased himself into me, filling me slowly but inexorably until his scrotum brushed my ass. I screamed then and he stopped at once, peering down at me breathlessly, but when he saw I was only excited, he smiled and began at last to slowly move again.

It hurt a little, but I quickly got used to the feeling, because he had prepared me well. I thought I could easily learn to crave this. I pushed back desperately against him until he guided my hips into a rhythm and he slowly, rhythmically fucked me into oblivion. He used long, slow strokes that made me beg and scream. I guess we were both learning that I was very noisy in bed. But there was nothing I could do to stop it. I couldn’t help it.

My orgasm overtook me suddenly—probably way too soon, and I strained back against him, chasing that excruciating, insane feeling as I came all over myself and the bed. He came right afterward, pushing into me hard. It was intense and I heard him choke off a curse as his heat flooded me inside.

He fell on his side, still clutching me close to him and my breathing was a series of little gasps. He stroked my hair, and he kissed my neck. I turned to gaze at him through dazed eyes, and he silently gazed back at me. I wondered how long it would be until he was tired of me. He was so beautiful, and I was so very plain. Seriously, he could have anyone he wanted—why was he bothering with me?

He sat up beside me and I felt bereft. I reached for him, and he reached back and grabbed my hand.

“Rest now.”

“I-I can’t,” I said but then ruined it with a huge yawn.

He laughed and petted my hair for a while, not saying anything. Then finally, he whispered in my ear. “Was that your first time with a man,a chuisle?”

“First time with anyone,” I gasped, feeling so hot with embarrassment I thought I might burst into flames.

“You’ve never…?”

“No. I never. Just a kiss here or there.”

His eyes darkened. “Who kissed you?” he asked sharply.

“One of the serving maids. And my friend, Arlo.”

“Which one was he? Not the redhead?”

“No.” I shook my head. “That’s Montrose.”

He pulled me back to him and resettled me in his arms.

“No others then? Are you sure?”

“No others.”

“And just kisses?”

“Yes. Mostly.”

“What is this ‘mostly?’”

“Arlo put his hand on me once, but that’s all.”

“On you, where?”

“You know—down there. But through my clothes and it was just for a second or two.”

He made a little growling sound and fell back on his side of the bed. “No more of that. You belong to me now.”

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