Page 49 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“Candra—”

“And then I decided,” I continue before he can speak. “That it doesn’t matter. That we’re trapped in here and we can do whatever we like, and no one has to know. Just like we promised, all secrets remain in the tower.” I slip my hand under the waist of his kilt and the fabric falls to the floor between us. “We can do anything at all,” I whisper. “You can be my secret and I can be yours.”

And I curl my fingers around his cock and stroke him.

“Unh.” The sound Nemeth makes is primal. His hips surge up as I caress him, and I stroke him again, this time slower, learning his cock with my grip as I do.

I gasp with delight as I realize just how big he is. I drag my hand up and down his shaft, from base to tip, and it’s ajourney. He’s big and thick, and I can’t believe what I’m touching. “You’ve been hiding all this under your kilt? That’s incredible. To think I’ve been missing out on seeing all this.”

He grips my other arm, the one I have around his waist, and his hand covers mine. At first I think he’s going to stop me, that I’ve gone too far, but he links his fingers with mine instead and holds me tight.

Oh.

My heart aches. Sweetness rushes through me, and I nuzzle against his back. I want to kiss him all over. I want to make him feel so damned good. I slip my hand up to the tip of his cock, encircling it, and it’s an elongated sort of tip that ends in a blunted point, less mushroom and more arrow. How very curious. I tease the tip, pressing my finger against the dip in the center. Within moments, my fingers are coated with sticky pre-cum and I begin to work him again with a tight, shuttling grip. “Tell me if I do something you don’t like.”

He groans, his hand tightening over mine. “Good,” he rasps. “So good, Candra…”

I squeeze harder, using his foreskin to work him, and add a little twist near the end of his cock, teasing the tip as I drag up and down. “I love that you say my name.”

And I do. I love that I’m fulfilling his fantasies, that he’s twining his fingers with mine even as I work his immense cock. I love the hot, hard feel of him in my grip. I love the trembling of his wings that intensifies with every stroke of my hand. I’ve daydreamed of this but the reality is so much better.

His hips buck, startling me from my reverie.

Nemeth makes another one of thoseunhsounds that seems ripped from his throat, and when I work my hand over his cock again, it’s as if he’s pumping into my grip. He must be getting close, and hot excitement curls through me at the realization. “Can I make you come?”

He groans again, the sound more of a growl, and it’s so intense and sexy that it makes my toes curl and my thighs clench in response. His laced fingers tighten over mine, and his other hand covers the one gripping him. He forces my hand up and down his shaft, hard, and as he does, his hips flex forward.

“Use me,” I purr. “I love it.”

Nemeth’s breath catches again, and then he’s fucking my hand roughly, shuttling his cock into my grip over and over again, twisting and using my hand for his pleasure. His breath catches again—a rough, choked sound—and I squeeze tight. There’s a wet splat as his hot release spatters on the floor in front of us, and my hand is coated with his seed. I stroke over him again, slowly…

…and then pause. There’s a hard bulge at the base of his cock that’s new to me. It’s appeared just now and I’m mystified. “What’s this?”

“Knot,” he wheezes. “My knot.”

It feels hot and tight. There’s no sound of panic in his voice, though, so it’s clearly a normal thing for him even if it’s strangeand inhuman to me. I stroke my fingers over the “knot” at the base of his shaft. “Should I touch it?”

His wings spasm, jerking so hard that I know the answer before he speaks. “Yes,” he pants. “Yes. Feels good.”

All right, then. I lightly touch, and when his cock twitches in my grasp and more seed spurts out of him, I grow bolder. I rub that hard knot, toying with it even as I whisper filthy things against Nemeth’s back. I drag my thumb over the bulging ring of it, and Nemeth continues to come, his lungs heaving. Perhaps it’s a lot like my clit, I decide, where I can have multiple orgasms with the right touches at the right time. The thought’s an appealing one, and I keep working him with my fingers until he groans and pulls my hand away, clutching it against his chest, just like the other one.

I hug him from behind, smiling, my cheek pressed to his warm skin. Even though I didn’t come, I feel good. Happy. Pleased. He sags against me, and our joined fingers are sticky with his release. He seems reluctant to let me go, and I’m content for him to hold me tight. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed touching until just now.

It’s not about sex. It’s about intimacy. I’ve been craving intimacy with Nemeth and I’m so, so glad I finally took the leap.

I just hope I haven’t offended him in some way. I know how to handle a human man. I don’t know how to handle a Fellian…as the knot has blatantly proved.

“You…” he manages to choke out. “Why…?”

What does he mean, why? I’m puzzled at the question. “Because I wanted to?”

He releases my hands and pulls away from me, leaving me to stagger forward. I manage to catch myself before I faceplant in the room, and hold my dripping hand out from my skirts. Normally I’d just wipe my hand on my dress, but now that I’m the one that has to do the laundry, it’s not worth the mess. Iwatch in surprise as Nemeth scoops up his discarded kilt—and yup, there is definitely a small wedge of a tail tucked above his butt cheeks—and tugs it over himself, giving me a disgruntled look.

He’s acting like he’s upset…at me? My stomach gets a little queasy, and I pick up one of my discarded woolen stockings and wipe my hand clean on it. “You said you wanted me to keep going.”

“I didn’t realize what a game my responses were to you.” His voice is harsh, cutting. “You find Fellians revolting, remember? Was this a ploy of some kind? To have something to use against me? Or so you can prove that I’m weak and foolish around a pretty female?”

Hurt spirals through me. I calmly finish wiping my hands and toss down the stocking. I smooth my skirts and wipe my cheek, still slick with oil. I want to cry, but I’m not going to show the bastard that he’s wounded me. “That wasn’t a game.”

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