Page 35 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
His two fingers thrust slowly, exploring my insides, while his thumb flicks over my clit. His other hand cups one of my breasts, lightly squeezing the flesh, tending to the peaked nipple.
A shift of his hips brings his front against my rear, and I feel a thick hardness pressing my backside through his trousers. But he doesn’t ask to be inside me. He holds me steady while I instinctively grip his bicep. My body, overly sensitized from the day’s events, is already quivering on the edge.
“Move your thighs apart a bit wider, darling, so I can see that sweet pussy of yours,” says the Faerie. “Such a tender little mortal, so sensitive. I have a gift for you before you come on my fingers. Are you ready?”
I suspect the gift is his cock. And yes, I am desperately, helplessly ready.
But when I nod, he says, “I have a rule that if I see someone naked twice, I must give them my true name. It keeps me from forming unwise attachments with anyone I don’t trust. And I’ve seen you naked twice tonight, so I think it only fair that I tell you my name. You won’t scream it tonight, but I hope to hear it one day when I taste that melted sugar between your legs. Do you feel how slick you are, Clara? You’re so close to coming for me. See how flushed your body is—your breasts, your pussy, your neck, your cheeks—I’ll tell you my name if you come for me, you adorable, lickable creature. Come for me, come—”
He pulls his fingers out of me and rubs my clit, swiftly, delicately, the perfect amount of pressure. The pleasure crashes in like the tide, a cleansing wash, a blissful wave expanding through my insides, weakening my thighs and tightening my stomach.
The Sugarplum Faerie sinks his fingers into me again, letting me clench around them while his thumb presses comfortingly against my clit.
“Keep your eyes open,” he whispers. “Look at yourself.”
My face and body are flushed, my hair curling damp around my shoulders, my sex cupped by his hand, my legs trembling with the force of the bliss. Soft gasps escape my lips, while I shamelessly arch, urging my sex against his palm.
“My name is Finias.” He nibbles the curve of my ear with his sharp teeth.
“Finias,” I whisper.
When I descend from the crest of the climax, I feel light-headed, melted, glowing and limp. Finias wraps me in a soft pink towel that matches his hair and walks me down the hall.
I cannot believe what I did. It’s something Louisa would do, not me. Strange how Faerie seems to be distorting everything, eliciting new qualities from each of us.
Or perhaps they aren’t new. Perhaps they were only buried.
Finias pushes open the door of a bedroom. There’s a tiny magical orb-light floating near the bedside, and it reveals my sister, splayed across the bed, occupying the entire space. She’s flushed, snoring faintly.
“Let’s not disturb her,” whispers Finias. “You can take my bed.” He snatches a gauzy nightdress off a chair nearby and guides me out of that room to another, larger one. The bed is big enough for three or four people.
I look at it, then at him.
He shrugs. “In the past I’ve enjoyed taking more than one person to bed. These days I prefer one at a time, someone I can trust. Which means I rarely entertain anymore.”
That’s what I am to him. Entertainment.
It should bother me, I suppose. But I’m actually relieved. I don’t want him staking some sort of dramatic Fae claim on me.
“I’ll sleep on one of the couches if you like,” he says. “But I’d rather share the bed.”
“It’s enormous. We can share.” I take the nightgown from him and pull it over my body. It is by far the most scandalous thing I have worn, except for my shredded gown from earlier.
I hook an eyebrow at Finias, and he gives me a shrug and an unrepentant grin. “Two beautiful women in my house. I might as well enjoy the sights.”
He must notice the change in my expression, because he adds hastily, “I won’t be finger-fucking your sister, sugar, or taking her any other way. I do believe she’s trying to entrap my cousin, without much success. They can’t seem to speak to each other long without arguing.”
“Hm,” I reply, sliding into the sheets. I love my sister, and it bothers me that she’s unhappy. But I’ll talk to her tomorrow. She needs her sleep, and I cannot function anymore tonight.
The Sugarplum Faerie strips down to a pair of short pants and settles himself on the opposite side of the bed. The glowing orbs in the room dim even further without a word from him; he must be able to control them with his mind.
I’m deliciously comfortable between smooth, warm sheets that smell of vanilla and cinnamon sugar.
“What shall I paint for you tomorrow?” I murmur.
His voice reaches me faintly as I drift into dreams. “Whatever you think I would most like to see.”
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