Page 35 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
I bite my wrist, eyes squeezed shut as he works his way in. He’s not thrusting madly, not yet. But I can feel the trembling force of his lust, of his primal need. He’s shaking, panting heavily.
And I make a choice. One I might regret—but I’ve been torn apart before, and I survived. I can handle this.
I stop biting my wrist and lift my head, staring into the thin, shimmering leaves of the blue grass. It smells impossibly, delicately sweet.
“Fuck me the way you need to, Caer,” I say. “I can take it.”
His velvet-furred fingers wrap around my throat instantly, and using that hold for leverage, he pulls my ass tight against his abdomen with a low roar of furious need. I cry out as he slams in to the hilt—and then he’s gripping me whole, clasping me by throat and waist, using my body like a toy, like the sheath for his cock. He pumps that huge length through my insides, over and over, and it hurts at first but after a few thrusts it doesn’t hurt anymore—I’ve given myself up to being used and it’s a relief, it’s bliss not to have to think about anything but the monster cock filling me up tight, dragging out, and shoving in again.
Every time he drives in, a rich throb of pleasure rolls through my clit, stronger with each thrust.
“Yes, yes, Caer—” My words are a half-squeal, and he roars aloud and jerks into a new rhythm. He’s purely a beast now, rutting me in a frenzy. His hips pound against my ass, and I think I’m going mad from raw, carnal sensation, from the heady smell of sex, of his thick fur and his hot skin—and because it’s him—it’s Caer, and he isn’t quitemyCaer yet but he will be. I will make it so.
His tail writhes along my belly, then moves right over my clit, a silken glide.
And I come undone.
Because this man, even though he’s imprisoned by a curse and tormented half out of his mind, is thinking of my pleasure even as he’s taking his own.
Caer fucks the orgasm out of me—his hands, his cock, his tail—and as I’m thrilling with violent bliss, he comes.
Tiny pinpricks of pain erupt along my channel, and Caer holds me in a vise grip—holds me perfectly still, growling a warning.
The barbs along his cock—they’re gripping my insides, locking us together, and he doesn’t want me to struggle, doesn’t want me to be torn.
I don’t fight him. The glow of my orgasm blurs the pain as his cock throbs and throbs, flexing in a surging rhythm, pumping a flood of his cum into my womb. I’ve never felt anyone come so much.
Back home, whenever I had sex, I took a tonic to prevent pregnancy, purchased with a few coins from my wages. Here in Faerie, I’m not sure what will result from mating with a Fae in heat, much less a Fae in a cursed monster form. But this moment is so intimate, violent, and primal—I can’t bring myself to worry or care.
We stay that way for several minutes, locked together, while he holds my throat and his tail coils softly around my waist, twitching reassuringly against my skin.
At last, the twinges of pain have completely ebbed, and Caer’s cock has softened. He draws it out of me slowly, and I feel the immediate rush of cum dripping from my hole, down my legs.
He makes a faint sound of displeasure and crouches behind me, licking the cum and pushing it back inside me with his tongue. When he’s satisfied, he drapes his monstrous, lionlike bulk in the grass and pulls me close, with my back to his chest. He curls around me, possessively, protectively, like he did when he made me the nest of pillows back at the Dread Court.
He feels different, but his sigh of satisfaction is the same, and it makes me smile. I nestle against him, my skin warmed by his body heat and my insides warm from his cum. Talking must be hard for him in this form, or I’m sure he’d be chattering to me.
“I like you this way, and all ways,” I whisper. “There is no form of yours in which I would not care for you. But we are going to free you from this curse, you understand?”
He sighs again, and there’s a thread of hope in the sound.
After a few more minutes, I venture, “You know Riordan is probably going mad right now, worrying about me.”
Caer’s chest rumbles. I can’t tell if it’s a growl or a purr.
“You need to take me back to him. He’s been through enough pain.”
A louder rumble. Definitely a growl.
“You’re still angry with him. I understand. But his plan to sacrifice me to the Queendidwork. I didn’t die. And then he came after you, Caer. He wanted to find you. You’re important to him, to both of us.”
It’s hard to tell how much my sweet, savage Cat understands in his cursed form, so maybe a demonstration of my intent is in order.
“I’m going back to Riordan.” I start to rise from the ground, but with a throat-ripping snarl he tightens his grip, pinning me in place.
Though the grass is pliant and pillowy, and the stars are lovely as sugared snow on dark-blue velvet, a trickle of fear seeps into my soul. I’m naked and vulnerable in a meadow, clasped in the arms of a monster. The small cuts where his claws poked me earlier are stinging more now.
What if Caer won’t let me leave? What if he keeps me here, prevents me from seeking out the Green Wizard and bargaining for the dissolution of his curse?
