Page 92 of Tempting the Fae Lord
Sometimes, when I ask for it like this, a playful mood takes over him. He’ll tease and tickle. He’ll praise me, tell me each quality he admires in that rumbling sexy voice until I melt. He’ll draw it out, make me wait, make me crazy.
But not tonight.
Smoldering ashes, not tonight.
He flips me to my back with such ease it’s as if I weigh no more than one of the many throw pillows we’ve since evicted from the bed.
He crawls over me, between my thighs, one of my very favorite places for him to be. And with no further preamble, he drives home, piercing me swiftly, fully, until I’m stretched and twitching.
“Yes,” we moan in unison. It makes me smile. Everything makes me smile. This feeling. The desire burning in his dark gaze. The distant sound of waves pounding the shoreline. Our joining.
Together we find a rhythm. Sweet pressure builds, pooling low and warm.
I wrap my legs around him and squeeze. “More.”
Instead of speeding up, he slows. Moves deep. Long, luxurious strokes. So good.
“Oh, yes, there,” I mumble.
His chuckle vibrates against me. He loves to be right. And I love to wriggle and squirm under him, finding my pleasure, taking what I need.
My head rolls back, exposing my neck, and within seconds, his lips are there, caressing the sensitive skin. He scrapes his fangs down the column of my throat.
I shiver. “Please.”
He sucks a mark, then slides his fangs into the flesh and drinks from me. Bliss.
We can do this now because there’s no danger of making me a thrall. I’m a fellow vampire. Safe. Equal in every way that matters.
I relish each luxurious sensation.
Filled, pierced, fucked…loved.
Every thrust drives me toward release. I cling to him with all my strength. My cock throbs where it’s trapped between us. The soft skin of his belly, slippery with my early seed, rubs over me, working me to a frenzy.
“Yes, yes, yes.” I rapidly become incoherent. So close I can taste it.
“Go on, love.” His lips move against my throat. “Let go for me.”
Impossible not to. I cry out as I spill between us, clenching around him, urging him to join me. To come with me. To mingle our ecstasy.
His motion becomes erratic, and he does. We quake, we shudder, we sigh out our pleasure against his other’s cheeks, cool breath ghosting over cool skin.
We roll to our sides, collapsing in a tangled embrace of arms, legs, lips.
His kisses are sweet like I’m a treasure and he will protect me accordingly.
Mine are reassuring like he’s worthy and I’m grateful for him and all he does for me.
After, when we’ve recovered our senses, washed up, and snuggled back together beneath a fresh white cotton sheet, we lie like spoons, him behind me.
With several hours left before sunrise, it’s too early to sleep, but no matter. I could lie like this forever, in Ezra’s arms, soaking him in. And I like the warm coastal breeze billowing the curtains from the open window. Later, we’ll retreat to safety below ground, but it’s nice to bask in the fresh air while we can.
Lately, in moments like these with nothing to do but enjoy his company and let my thoughts run wild, an inkling of an idea has hatched in my mind.
A flicker of a possible future.
And like many of my previous ideas, it may not be a notion Ezra will take to.
