Page 40 of Defy the Fae

The instant we storm through, we’re on each other.

At the same time Lark tugs me against her, I growl and snatch her mouth with mine. While the curtains fall shut, I wrench her lips apart, spreading them like limbs and fitting myself to her. My tongue pitches between the damp seam of Lark’s mouth and flexes against her in a steady cadence.

A lovely moan skitters from her throat, the sound like embers igniting me into a frenzy.

My palms span the humps of her ass and heave her against me. While my tongue rakes through her lips, I walk her backward. We stumble across the rug, passing the fire basin packed with glowing flowers and its surrounding chairs, where I once bent Lark over and took her steadily for an hour until she had wailed herself hoarse.

Now she throws her arms around me, her fingers launch into my hair, and she fastens onto the back of my head. This urges us nearer, harder. Her swollen breasts lunge into my chest, the nipples solid, and need seeps from between her legs, the musky aroma like a marvelous drug.

Despite their loose fit, my clothes chafe. The harder my cock gets, the more it wedges itself against the trousers.

Lark must feel the same inconvenience, because she squirms. We peel ourselves apart only long enough to fumble with my shirt. Her fingers grip the material and give it a feral pull, wrenching the offensive piece from my torso. A distinct tear pierces the room.

While making unsteady progress to the bed, I crush her dress in my fists and cram it down her curves, taking the skimpy, platinum-laced undergarments with them. The fabric shudders down her hourglass frame, inches of soft flesh baring itself.

Her breasts inflate with each breath, and her nipples darken, the disks erect. That swatch of hair at the nexus of her body conceals the tight line of her pussy. My mouth all but waters to taste her pleasure.

That will be my first agenda.

Except Lark’s mouth fuses with mine once more, then she swings us around at the last moment. My knees hit the mattress. The instant they do, she pushes me down, so that I land upright on the bed.

Like a feline, Lark slinks onto my lap. Her thighs split around my waist, straddling me.

Not one to be outdone, I pry my mouth from hers and nibble on her bottom lip, tugging on it until she keens, the sound gritty. My teeth graze the arched outlines of her flesh, teasing and taunting, then descend along her neck, where her pulse thumps.

I band my arms around her and continue my onslaught, my incisors sliding along her clavicles and down to those lovely mounds of flesh. Her stunning tits prickle as I scoop one in my palm, lower my head, and take it in my mouth. Lark whines, and her ass gyrates on my pelvis, smearing wetness on my trousers, which we’ve yet to remove.

I groan into her breast and suck her in, then lash my tongue over the nipple, circling the ruched skin and patting the tip. Lark mumbles something incomprehensible and arches into me, urging her breast into my mouth while her digits claw through my scalp.

How she loves to draw on the roots. How I relish the pain of it.

My tongue swabs at her, and my mouth draws on that breast before switching to the other one. Another hard cry vaults from her mouth, which morphs into an ambitious grunt.

That means she wants her turn.

Thus, she takes it.

My mate does her worst, her fingers scaling my ears and flicking off the bronze caps. Her fingers trace the edges, ascend to the peaks, and thumb the tips.

The ministration shoves a hot bolt of lust up my cock, which jumps to attention. A low growl of warning creeps up my throat. If she continues to torment me, this will be over far too soon, whereas I have many devious tasks yet to accomplish where her pussy is concerned.

Nonetheless, she persists, her fingers brushing my earlobe and skimming over the points. On a hiss, I veer back and seize her cheeks. We stare at one another, panting with exertion and a restraint I scarcely feel, nor mean to tolerate.

Yet in this stare, everything slows. The stress of wanting, of coveting, of dominating subsides. This profound thing between us calms our exhalations.

Poised over me, Lark’s heavy-lidded eyes rove over my face before sinking to my abdomen. Her swollen mouth parts, so that puffs of air fall from her lungs. Her hands have vanished once more into my hair, as if she needs it for balance, lest she fall.

Except I’ll leap into the abyss and catch her if she ever does. Always, I’ll catch this vixen.

Again, she lifts her head to scan my face. As though reading my thoughts, her lips break into a tiny grin, so very fragile, so very rare for this spitfire. Some form of crafty intent banks in her eyes.

She cranes her head to pass her tongue across my lips, licking the thin pleat from one end to the other. My wings flare, thrashing outward from my back. I’m about to flip this mortal onto her back when she claims me first.

Her fingers sink between us and cup the length of my erection. A disorderly hiss blasts from my mouth. As the heat of her palm melts through the textile, my cock expands from stem to crown.

Patiently, Lark rubs the flat of her hand up and down. The abrasion thickens me even more. Just like that, she’s takes me captive.

Lark pants, “I have three rules. One—” her fist inches upward until I gasp, “—don’t move. Two, hold your tongue. And three—” she halts her movements, “you’re forbidden from coming until I say so. Understand?”

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