Page 11 of Lucky or Knot
He landed with a thump and creak from the worn-out mattress, splayed out like a starfish. Long legs for his height, perfect for getting between in any way I could manage, and his shirt had ridden up a couple of inches, giving me a glimpse of a sliver of pale skin above the waist of his pants.
Did fairies even have navels? I’d never thought to wonder, but now I had to know.
Well, I’d wanted to get on my knees for him, hadn’t I? And he wouldn’t be expecting it.
So I got down on the floor—gracefully, this time, thank you and fuck you very much—and caught his knees with my hands as he reflexively tried to bring his legs together. He pushed up on his elbows and gazed down at me, all wild eyes and tangled hair and heaving chest and kiss-reddened lips.
Oh, he looked perfect like this, all mussed up. Beforethis I’d never understood the appeal of smearing my partner’s makeup during sex, or of tearing someone’s clothes. Now I got it.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” I said, sliding my hands up his thighs excruciatingly slowly and pushing his legs wider as I did. The front of his pants had a visible bulge, pointing right at me. Ha! He could pretend all he liked that this wasn’t about anything but a bet for him. “You don’t like answering questions with a straight answer, do you?”
To my surprise, he smiled at that, and it looked genuine. He really couldn’t be much prettier if he tried—although it might already be all effort and no reality, and I had no way of knowing. Fairies. Dammit.
“You can’t really expect me to answer that, can you?”
“You just did,” I pointed out. “Your name, if you please?”
“Touché,” he said. “And no. Names have power. You should know that. Don’t you use a stage name? Surely your parents didn’t choose The Hammer for their newborn?”
So he’d heard Scott introducing me before I went on stage, then. I grinned at him. “My—”
“—penis is the hammer, yes, thank you, I get it,” he cut in, with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
“No,” I corrected him. “You haven’t gotten ityet.”
“Oh my dear lords,” he muttered, collapsing back down with another thump of the mattress.
“You’re the one paying me for my hammer,” I said helpfully, earning a loud huff and enough time to throw him even further off balance.
Instead of going for that tempting ridge of his cock in those tight black pants, I went the other way, moving over to his left leg and running my hands down all the way to his ankle. That delicate little joint looked ridiculously fragile in my huge hands.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Making sure your shoes don’t get ruined when I haveyour legs over my shoulders. I promised, right?”
This time, he didn’t bother trying to contradict me. Good, he was learning.
Thank the gods his shoes didn’t have any tiny buckles or laces or anything fiddly, although they did have perfectly smooth bright-red leather soles. I tugged at this one, sliding it off his foot and setting it aside on the floor. I didn’tactuallywant to suck his gleaming-tipped toes the way I’d thought about in the club, but…
I shook my head, trying to clear the haze, but yeah, I still wanted to put every part of him in my mouth. My cock hadn’t slacked off in the slightest, pressing persistently against the fly of my jeans.
Fairy magic really ought to be regulated. Or abolished.
The other shoe came off just as easily, and I put it next to the first, lining them up neatly in a way I never would have bothered with at any other time. I’d promised to treat his clothes gently, and the thought of valeting him with care and then stuffing him full of my knot gave me a perverse, anticipatory thrill.
By now all the fooling around had had the desired effect. His whole body vibrated slightly with the force of his heartbeat; I could feel it in his ankle, even.
“What are you doing?” he complained.
“What’s your name?” I countered.
No, I wouldn’t suck on his toes, but his second ankle proved irresistible. I kissed it, pushing his pant leg up a bit to nibble my way along the back of his calf. He made a soft sound that went straight to my cock.
He didn’t answer—not that I’d expected him to.
When I lifted my head and took a peek, he’d lain back and closed his eyes, long eyelashes a dark shadow on his pink cheeks, hair fanned out all around his head and his hands clenching fistfuls of the bedspread.
Did he think he could pretend to be uninterested in the proceedings? Fine, let him try.
