Page 9 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
He staggers backward, panting, and sits down on the bed. “By the Broken Star and the Pool Below, that was divine. I’m going to need a moment before I can serve you, love.”
“I can wait.”
“Can you, though?” He sniffs the air delicately, and I cup my hands protectively over my sex. He grins. “You can’t hide that luscious scent from me. You’re soaked, sweetness.”
“Watching you come makes me wetter,” I tell him, climbing onto our bed.
Our bed. Our safe place to play, to talk, to rest.
My throat tightens suddenly with the realization that this night could be our last in this bed for a while, perhaps forever. Our little home above our shop will stand empty while we’re gone—except for the weasel-cats, who come and go whenever they like.
Finias sits up and engulfs me in a hug fragrant with buttercream, chocolate, and frost. “I cannot bear it when you look so sad, my Clara, my creampuff, my gumdrop, my little sugared tartlet—” He lays me down and buries his face against my chest, kissing my breasts, my throat, and my stomach over and over in between silly pet names, until I’m laughing helplessly.
He kisses his way down my belly until I grow still, tingling with anticipation as he nears the spot that’s alive with need for him.
“I did not pierce my tongue today,” he says. “But sometime I will.”
My clit throbs as I imagine the sensations. “Once we’re back safely,” I whisper. “It will be something to look forward to.”
“Indeed.” He suckles my clit lightly, and I vent a shrill, breathy scream.
But he shakes his head. “You can’t come yet. Not until I say so, precious.” He takes a long lick up my slit and sighs with satisfaction. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.”
His tongue bathes me thoroughly, pleasure spiraling through my pussy and my lower belly until my mind has melted into a gooey, honeyed mess, and I can only whimper for him. Then he rises, lifts my legs, and slides in to the hilt.
I shriek.
His blessed invasion is a ripple of pure, heart-stopping ecstasy, a rolling thrill right through me. I would suffer a hundred kinds of torture just to feel him surge inside me again for the first time, with that new, glorious texture lighting up my body.
I thought Finias’s cock was beyond improvement, but I was wrong. The piercings make it even better.
He releases a shaken groan, pulling out a little before sinking in again.
Every nerve ending inside my channel is being stimulated at once—wonderfully, unbearably.
“Finias, Finias, can I come?” Tears are slipping from my eyes, tears of blinding, incandescent bliss. “Please can I come, Finias,” I sob, and he leans over me, still thrusting, propping himself on one hand while the other cups my face.
“Yes, love, yes,” he whispers. “Come for me, dearest.”
I’m used to holding back until he lets me come. I love it—the pleasure is so much more intense when it is ramped up, and up, and then delayed a little—held at bay, torturously, excruciatingly—and then—oh then—crashing over the edge, bursting apart—I clutch my faerie’s body, arms, shoulders, whatever I can grab onto while he plunges in, in, in, guiding me through the explosion of my world.
“Fuck,” I sob. “Oh fucking god-stars…”
I’m lightly coated in sweat, my tensed body slowly relaxing as the pleasure eases into blissful warmth.
Finias keeps fucking me, making those sounds I love, those vulnerable, sweet, broken moans. I watch him, braced over me, his lean hips thrusting, his abdomen tense and ridged, the cords of his throat standing out in harsh lines, his crisp jaw tight, lips pulled back over sharp teeth as he finally comes with a fierce groan. I love the faintly sugared sparkle of his eyelashes, the freckles dotting his cheekbones, his saucy nose, the cotton-candy softness of his pink hair.
When his eyes blink open, my world turns golden. Deep, honeyed gold. An illumination no darkness of Unseelie can quench.
He catches my mouth with his—a long, compelling kiss, as if he’s drawing something he needs from me.
Then he rolls aside, and I reach down, as I always do, and collect a little of the faerie cum that’s oozing out of me. I dab it on my tongue. “Peaches,” I whisper, and I take some more, spreading it over my tongue.
“Let me taste.” Finias leans in, kissing me, swirling his tongue over mine. “Damn, I’m delicious.”
“Always.” I curl against him, a shadow settling over my bliss as I remember where we’ll be headed soon. “Should we tell Lir what we’re up to?”
“Not on your life,” Fin snorts. “He’ll order us not to go. Might even tell the guards to keep us here in Beannú. No, I’ll appoint someone to watch over things in my place while we’re away.”
