Page 73 of Crown of Roses
“Is that what you like to call it?” she asked, delighting in his apparent torment.
“That’s what everyone calls it,” he ground the words out and snagged her wrist. “I will show you, but there’s something we need first.”
“What’s that?”
His mouth twisted into a mischievous smile. “Lubricant.”
“What?”
Rowan shoved her skirt out of the way, and then he lifted her up, pinning her to the wall. With her legs locked around his waist, and her arms circling his neck, she couldn’t look away from the intensity of his stare. He bent down and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, bit gently, then nestled his cock directly at the apex of her thighs. Maeve stilled.
“Don’t worry.” He whispered the words around each of her eager kisses. “I won’t take you here.”
The solid press of him between her legs left her gasping. Back and forth, he rubbed himself against her swollen folds, guiding her hips with every stroke. Need spiked, hot and fast. It was all-consuming, a raging fire she couldn’t control. Flames licked and spread, danced over her skin, and engulfed her in a blaze of mindless lust. Music drowned out her yelps and cries. She wanted him closer, she wanted to strip off every piece of clothing separating them so they were skin to skin, so he could bury himself deep inside her. Their mouths clashed and he slid her over his shaft, soaking him with her wetness. If she just arced a bit more, if she angled herself the right way…
Fingers dug into her bottom and his rough whisper coasted past her cheek. “Not. Here.”
“Rowan.” His name was a breathless pant on her lips.
“I know.” He smothered her moan with his mouth while he drove her higher and higher, grinding her throbbing, sensitive flesh against his thickened length.
Release sparked through her like a shooting star burning through the night sky. Dazzling and wondrous. Shudders ricocheted throughout her, cool autumn air chilled her flushed skin, and she collapsed in Rowan’s arms. With the ease of a practiced lover, he set her down, and when her feet touched the ground, she couldn’t stop the trembling of her knees. She braced her palms against his chest to keep herself upright.
“All better?” he crooned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
She could only nod, then glanced down to where he gently nudged her belly. In the dim glow and flash of bonfires beyond the wall, she could see the entire length of him coated in her wetness. His cock twitched and pulsed, and seemed to vibrate with demand, so she reached for it again. Wrapping her fingers around his fullness, she watched as Rowan’s hand covered her own.
“Gods, just seeing your hand there is enough to get me off.” He jumped in her hold and another pool of warmth slid down her legs. Then he helped glide her palm up and down his smooth shaft, again and again. The motion was constant, almost reverent, and she relished in the control she had over him in that moment. Rowan propped one hand on the stone wall behind her head and his biceps flexed. His jaw clenched. “Don’t be afraid to grip it harder, Princess.”
He tightened his hold on her hand, urging her to squeeze, and to take him with more authority. Ready to learn, she did as she was instructed. Grip firm, she jerked him, mesmerized by the beads of liquid forming at his tip. Curiosity got the better of her, as it often did, and she bent down to swipe her tongue over him, wanting just a taste.
“Fuck.” Rowan released her hand and his fingers curled into her hair, dragging her face up to him. “Don’t stop,” he growled, then crushed his mouth against hers.
Maeve didn’t stop. She continued working him, hard and fast, just the way he requested. His breathing grew ragged; his kiss, more punishing. Now he was helping her, thrusting his hips, forcing himself in and out of her fist. His mouth tore away from hers and he roared. Warm liquid slid through her fingers and over the back of her hand as he emptied himself of his seed. A wicked sort of power filled her veins; having that kind of control, and knowing she could bring him to his knees if she asked…it was better than holding a blade to someone’s throat.
“You…” He sucked in a harsh breath. “Are entirely too tempting for your own good.”
She offered him a simpering smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“As you should.”
Rowan traced Maeve’s bottom lip with his thumb, then helped her clean up and adjust her skirt before returning to the festivities. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her out from behind the stone wall to where the Autumn Ceilie was still in full force. Fire scorched the moonlit sky. All around her, the air hummed with musical vibrancy, and the familiar scent of magic mingled with that of all the tempting trays of food she’d promised not to eat. Laughter exploded from across the forest as partygoers sang, danced, and reveled through the night.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Rowan gave her hand a gentle pat.
Dread pooled low in her belly and she clutched his arm. And just as quickly, the warmth that filled her fled her body, and her blood cooled. “Where are you going?”
His gaze drifted across the sea of faeries. “To make some inquiries.”
“You’re just going to leave me here?” Maeve knew it sounded pitiful to her own ears, but she would never have agreed to come along with him if she’d known he was going to leave her side.
“Do you want to find the soul?” he countered.
“Of course, but—”
“Then stay put.” He kissed her firmly, but when he pulled away, alarm gripped her once more.
“What if…” She glanced around at the swaying and grinding bodies. “What if someone talks to me?”
