Page 79 of Faking with the Fae King

I kiss her again as my shadows swirl outward from the base of my erection, stroking her clit and sliding into her ass. The sensation of filling her in two places nearly undoes me.

“Oh, god,” she sobs, her entire body trembling. “Oh, Severin.”

“Feel me. Feel my cock and my shadows filling you everywhere, stuffing you so full,” I growl, plunging deep. “Take my cock, take it all like a good girl.”

Her magic flares, mixing with mine in an added layer of sensation that goes beyond the physical. Hannah’s mouth goes wide as she screams my name, her muscles pulsing around me as I thrust again and again, riding her through her orgasm.

My balls tighten as my climax hits, the heat and pressure of her sweet depths pure pleasure. I jerk part way out, my shadows wrapping the base of my length as my knot swells, ready to lock her to me, to claim her as mine.

Soon, I promise it. Soon I will make her truly mine.

She clings to me, and I support her with my shadows as my hands stroke her back, her soft hair. I tip up her chin, enjoying the satiated look in her dazed eyes as I press kisses to her trembling mouth.

The cool night air becomes more noticeable now that we’re still, and before she can become chilled, I slip the rest of the way from her and magic our clothes back into place. Then I scoop her up in a bridal carry, and she curls her arms around my neck and rests her head in the crook of my shoulder. A slow glide carries us toward Hannah’s cottage. Her soft breaths tickle my neck in long, gentle exhales as ifshe’s already falling asleep.

When I land in her front yard, she gives a sleepy murmur of protest as her hand pats at her dress. Not finding what she’s looking for, Hannah’s eyes snap open. “Oh, no! I left my keys and phone in my other clothes at Haute and Bothered.”

“Not to worry.” I send my shadows slipping into the lock, shaping them into a key. The door clicks open, and I carry her inside, using another shadow to close the door after us.

Her home is built on a smaller scale than I’m used to, having grown up in a palace. Yet it feels comforting instead of smothering. It’s a warm house, a lived-in space, full of little touches of Hannah: the art on the walls, the colorful rugs on the floor. I like it.

She points down the short hallway, guiding me to the bedroom. As I stride across the floor, I whisk her clothes away. Hannah gives a breathless little laugh, and I send a shadow tendril racing forward to pull down the bright-purple comforter so I can lower her onto the bed. When I try to straighten, she keeps hold. “Stay.”

“Are you certain?”

She nods.

I’ve never spent the night with anyone before, never wanted to. It’s a level of intimacy I’ve never known. But goddess, do I want it with her. The lingering echo of our magic combining twangs in my chest.

With a flick of my fingers, I banish my clothes and crawl in beside her, wrapping her in my arms as a shadow tendril pulls the covers over us.

Hannah burrows into my side, her head pillowed onmy shoulder, and makes the sweetest little sound of contentment.

Goddess, that sound undoes me. No one’s ever simply held me before or taken comfort from my presence. I don’t know what to do with such trust.

She falls quickly asleep, but I lie awake for several hours, reveling in the new feelings my little witch has brought into my life.

I slip from the bed as the first rays of light strike the windows of the bedroom.

Hannah’s nose scrunches up in the most delightful way as she mutters something incoherent and rolls into the spot I just left. She lets out a happy sigh, her body relaxing as I pull the comforter up over her shoulders. I hope she’ll sleep long enough for me to offer her one more surprise.

Rune steps out from behind a tree as I open the cottage door. We share a nod, then I’m off, flying toward Ferndale Falls and the promised breakfast I arranged with the brownie last night.

The tulips stir when I land on the green, pulling their little root feet from the soil to race over to me, flower heads bobbing. I take a moment to brush my hands over their soft petals, sending little trickles of plant-healing energy into them.

“Much better,” I say. “Continue to rest in your beds eachnight.”

A flock of mourning doves land on the other side of the green, and the flowers race away, as curious as small children. The birds startle at first, lifting a few feet into the air to come down a couple of yards away. The flowers approach more slowly, long leaves reaching out to pet the birds’ backs as the doves peck bugs from the damp grass.

Morning sunlight strikes the bright-pink front of Cake My Day, making the bakery glow like a beacon guiding me through a rough sea of lumpy porridge to the safety of a perfectly baked loaf of bread.

The bell over the door gives a happy chime when I open it. Past me would have hated that noise. New me reacts like a trained dog, salivating at the thought of the treats within.

My conjurers did an especially good job refurbishing the building to Pepperpot’s standards, and the brownie’s hearth magic did the rest. Little round tables painted in soft pastels fill the front of the room, each surrounded by chairs in contrasting colors. Small vases full of wild flowers top each table, and murals of mountain meadows covered in those same flowers decorate both of the side walls.

But the real stars of the show are the two glass cases that stretch across the back of the store, shelves filled with the most delectable baked goods known in all the realms. One contains various sweets, and savory breads line the shelves of the other.

The smell of yeast and sugar teases me with the promise of perfection. My stomach gives an angry rumble, and I think I even drool a bit. Goddess, the last several weeks have been severely trying, but now that I have access to a browniebaker again, anything seems possible.

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