Page 43 of Defy the Fae

“Yeah…”

Very good. My mouth refastens around her clit and tugs gently, steadily until she’s inconsolable. My tongue flicks against the nub, licking it rhythmically. I sketch the peak, dabbing at it, patting it.

In unison to that, the tail of air plows inside her. Each entry reaches those hidden places I can’t physically go.

But I feel them. Oh, how I feel them.

Lark keens, weeping with a mixture of frustration and euphoria. Her hips grind into me, spurring me on while parting her legs more for the air to probe her.

I bob my head, my lips affixing to her, pulling on my mate as the wind enters her. I lick her steadily, and the rope of air plies her repeatedly, following every helpless sound. It’s endless, vigorous, lasting for so long that I forget everything but her moans.

Yet again, it’s not enough.

My mouth releases Lark. The draft slides out of her and disappears.

She whines in need as I ascend her body and set a finger to her lips. “Shh,” I whisper.

I have additional plans. And let no one say I’ve lost my penchant for scheming.

As my cock braces against her soaked pussy, she understands. In unison, my hands and her heels shove the trousers down my limbs, freeing me completely.

Panting, we waste little time. Lark slings one leg around my waist, and I hitch the other high, bending it and flattening the front of her calf against my chest.

With a firm swing of my hips, I pitch my cock into her.

Lark cries out. My mouth falls open as her walls seal around my length, clutching me to the hilt.

Once I’m rooted, we move. With measured control, I rotate my hips into her, plying her with the full length of my cock. The hot, wet clamp of her body expands, taking my weight and width. Pain and pleasure infuse my veins and flow through the rachises of my feathers.

I glide in and out of Lark, withdrawing to the head, then sweeping back in. The pace is moderate but feverish. My waist slings into her, my tip works into her. Our gazes lock as our hips beat tougher, perspiration building at the base of my spine and between her breasts.

I fuck her affectionally, passionately, endlessly. She fucks me back, her waist jutting into mine as her face contorts with something akin to loss and longing.

That, and love.

We labor for this, drive ourselves into a trance, our moans colliding. With a vicious growl, I go deeper, harder—but not faster.

I want this earned. I want this to leave an imprint inside her.

Mine. She’s mine.

And I’m hers.

“My equal,” I rasp. “I love you, Lark. I have always loved you.”

“I love you, too,” she cries. “Oh, gods. Cerulean…don’t stop.”

“Never,” I swear. “When I make you come, I’ll start over again. I’m never stopping.”

There are no gods on this continent. Nature is our divinity, and if deities exist, it is outside our hemisphere of knowledge. Yet with her in my arms, I’m making love to a goddess.

Lark seizes my ass, which flexes with each plunge into the warm cleft of her body. Her folds squeeze my lunging cock, and her grasp urges me to give more, to push her farther.

I lift my torso off the bed and staple my hands on either side of Lark’s head, the better to see her, to watch what my cock does to her. Her stomach bunches with mine, her legs link around my snapping waist, and she rises her hips to meet my thrusts.

I hiss and increase the momentum, surging into her with short, bucking thrusts. My thick crown strikes in…out…in…out. Her lips part, moans leaping off her tongue and joining my growls. The creases around her eyes clench, and the damp walls of her pussy clench, and everything in me clenches.

The orgasm tosses her into the void. Lark comes, her pussy gripping my cock, her walls pulsating and then unraveling around me. I maintain a steady pump as Lark’s broken cries launch to the ceiling, the sight of consuming my vision.

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