Page 56 of The Maleficent Faerie
The Void King holds me against his chest, his profile brushing mine, his voice dark and heated. I have no idea what he’s saying to me—I’m distracted by the nearness of his lips, by their crisply perfect shape, by the way they’re hovering over my mouth without really touching. I’m delirious, inhaling the warm, delicious puffs of his breath.
His words register vaguely, a distant serenade to the urgency spurring my heartbeat. “I asked if you want to forget.”
Breathless, I manage to nod.
“Thank the goddess,” he groans, and he picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder with an easy Fae strength I envy.
The King heads for a side door of the Chapel and bursts through. He stalks down a corridor, flings open another pair of doors, and flicks his fingers to illuminate the candles in the room. As they blaze up, I inwardly seethe over the fact that I can’t produce a spark for fire anymore.
Malec totes me to the front of the small prayer chamber, where there’s a stone altar scattered with herbs and offerings—a shrine to Eonnula. With a low grunt of impatience he sweeps the little dishes of salt and the bundles of herbs aside into an irreverent jumble, and he throws me over the altar, with my toes touching the cold floor, my belly pressed to the stone, and my rear jutting out.
He shoves my cape and my tunic up around my waist. His claws scrape the flesh of my hips as he finds the waistband of my leggings and pulls them over my ass, down my thighs.
Cool air flows over my bare bottom, teasing the heated, slick groove of my sex.
Slowly, with a single claw, Malec begins drawing circles and spirals on one cheek of my ass. My skin tingles unbearably, and I squirm.
He smacks my rump. “Be still, Princess.” His nails skate over my other ass cheek, tantalizing my sensitive skin.
I’m dripping on the altar. I’m sure I must be; my insides are a river of want. “Just fuck me already,” I snap, and he spanks my ass again. A jolt of pleasure spikes through my clit at the forceful contact. I vent a tiny moan and press my mound against the stone edge of the altar.
“No.” Another spank. “Be still.”
I bite back a retort, feigning submission. I have to endure this so I can get his cock inside me. My memory of fucking him earlier is slightly blurry, but I recall a rich, satisfying fullness, like he was made to fitmeprecisely.
“Don’t dance for my men again.” His voice glides through the quiet of the altar room. He slaps one cheek of my ass, and my breath hitches. “And don’t try to conquer me with bluesteel. I won’t be so foolish next time.”
“You’re foolish far too often, aren’t you?” I say wryly. “But you’re never foolish in the same way twice. Maybe by the end of your long life, you’ll be wise. If Midunnel lasts that long. Or if you can bear to stay alive until then.”
The minute I say it, I realize how wrong the words are. How terrible it is for me to twist that particular knife in his soul, to mock the despair that has him wavering on the edge of self-destruction.
His palm slams into my ass, but it doesn’t leave—his fingers grasp my flesh with all the strength of pain, or fury.
“I have never claimed to be the most intelligent of rulers,” he says, low. “I often tell myself what an idiot I am. My mother always told me not to speak to my own heart in that demeaning way, but sometimes I deserve it.” His claws swirl over my ass cheek again, and I close my eyes against the delicate tingling sensation. “I’ve told myself many times that Midunnel might have been better off without me, that it needs someone wiser and more gifted than me. I wreck things more often than I repair them. I’ve achieved none of the goals I set for my reign, and perhaps I never will. Saving the realm would justify my existence, but if that fails…” His voice fades into silence.
“Forget what I said,” I beg him. “Forget it all, and do things to me… please.”
But I’ve stolen his dominance, dampened his lascivious mood. I can sense the change in him, like false notes souring a melody. He’s stroking my rear absently now, as if his mind is elsewhere.
Fuck his insecurity—I need him back. I want him driving into me, fierce and regal, with that compelling light in his eyes and his wings outspread.
I wriggle on the altar, and when he doesn’t react I climb fully onto it and turn around, sitting with my bare ass on the altar’s edge. My bottom smarts a little from the spanking, but he was more playful than cruel, so the sting isn’t bad.
I kick off my leggings and scoot back on the altar, my legs arched and thighs spread. “Fine. If you won’t do things to me, I’ll distract myself.” I trace one finger along the slick seam of my pussy, then dip two fingers in, parting the lips so he can see deeper into me.
It’s working. His distant gaze refocuses, a lustful interest lighting his eyes.
My cheeks flame with the awareness of what I’m doing—where I’m doing it—andwhoI’m regaling with this little show. The Void King, of all people, is watching me touch myself.
But I’ve already ridden his face to climax. This is no worse—or better—or—ahh, forget the guilt, forget the confusion, the inhibitions. Fuck it all.
I hum softly, moving my fingertip to circle my clit. “Goddess, that feels good.”
The Void King sinks to his knees by the altar, his dark eyes locked on my pussy. His beautiful wings arch more dramatically than ever, feathers practically trembling with his eagerness.
“Let me,” he whispers. “May I?”
I lift my bare foot and trace my toe down his straight nose, nudging at his parted lips. He releases a blissful exhale as I push my toes against his cheek. “Kiss my foot,” I order.
