Page 112 of Born for Lace

We did practise before I even had anything to offer, and now he seems eager to explore this new sensation.

He swallows.

“Hedidit.”

“You did it.”

I look up to find Lagos has returned to the room, standing naked in the open door, holding a box of sorts as he stares intensely down at us.

He is magnificent, with his rough, battered skin, rippling ink from neck to ankle, and long shadows carving each muscle. Thrumming on his abdomen, a hard, smooth dick, the underside licked from root to swollen crown with protruding veins.

Arousal and something sweeter,happiness,fill my chest, and it is bittersweet, given this moment—Lagos, me, and Spero—is destined to end. Soon.

I am not ready for it.

Lagos closes the door and leans against it. A steadfast guard. “I have food for you, little flower. You need to eat.”

“Okay.”

He studies me. “Your rib?”

I sigh at the small talk. “It’s fine. Can we stay another day?” The vulnerability in my voice scares me, but I don’t have time to hide my emotions. It’s now or never. Time moves even when we wish to stand still.

Oh, how I wish to pause it.

“Yes,” he says.

I hold Lagos in my sights, unable to tear my gaze away from what appears to be affection and softness blazing so outwardly in his gaze.

“The Shadow baby is lucky to have you,” he rumbles.

“Spero,” I correct, though I know he doesn’t really think Spero is beneath him. On the contrary, it’s self-loathing that haunts his tongue, that expels punishing words. “If you keep calling him a Shadow baby, I’m going to start calling you a Shadow daddy.”

“Okay.”

My breath catches from the seriousness in his deep timbre, and I smile, gaining reluctant courage.

“Do you think that…” I swallow, nerves fluttering in my neck. “If things were different… That we could live in a place like this?”

He watches me. “Yes.”

“Together?”

“Yes.”

I exhale hard, retreating my gaze to Spero, flooded with emotions too sad and sweet to bear. It’s too much. We are doomed, but I wish to drown tonight. It’s wonderful—and painful. It has to end, but we have now. Tears fire behind my eyes, glossing them over.

Wild fantasies are not virtues.

“Can we pretend that we are from the old-world?” I gaze up at Lagos the Rogue, huge and formidable, a guard dog at the door, and he stares back at me, naked and breastfeeding. “And I am yours, and you are mine. Can we pretend that this is our home and that Spero is our baby?”

“Yes, little flower. You can pretend.”

“Lie with me?” I hold my hand out for him. “Please. Lagos.”

He stares at my small hand, his throat bobbing, before he walks over to me. I was once afraid of the way he moves, stealthy but lording, too graceful for a man his size.

He takes my hand in his, his warm, coarse fingers wrapping around me. He follows me down as I lie on my side with Spero at my chest. My nipple is between his lips, but slumber makes his eager sucking slow and intermittent.

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