Page 41 of Tangwystle
My back arched as his tongue thrust inside my pussy. I’d never felt this sensation before. It built with the thoughts sweeping over me.
Baz made me feel so good. And I’d seen him do it with Gretel.
It was jealousy I felt last night, but not because of betrayal.
I’d wanted to be like Baz in that moment. To demand Gretel get on her knees. And I’d wanted to impress Baz the other day when he asked me to let Gretel clean me off.
I was so scared. Too scared.
Tears flowed down my face, my body clenching as Baz sucked my clit.
He lapped the arousal from my thighs, his lips skimmed over my stomach, and I breathed hard when he left teasing kisses on my sensitive nipples.
He kissed me, allowing me to taste myself on him. And then he wiped my tears away.
“No one here is judging you,” he murmured.
But I shook my head.
“Tangwystle.” He looked almost pained.
“It’s okay,” I told him, but couldn’t look at him as I pushed myself up. “I know you want her and it’s okay. . .”
I’d make myself sick thinking about the two of them. Wanting the two of them. But I wasn’t ready to approach that yet, so I did what I thought was the next best thing.
I couldn’t be mad at Baz for loving Gretel. Not when I did the same.
“She wants you to join us,” he said softly.
My fingers reached out only to hover.
“You can touch me,” he said, and I fell forward, wrapping my arms around him.
This is what we did. Always leaning into one another.
He ran his hand down my hair, keeping me close.
His lips pressed to the top of my head when a knock came from the front door. It echoed through the grand Manor, and my heart squeezed. It’s like for a moment, I felt the air in the room stifle. The Manor groaned, and I gazed up at Baz in concern.
He squeezed my arms before letting go and striding to the window.
“It’s Clinemell.”
I scrambled up from the desk.
Gretel knew to keep out of sight when visitors came. But Rufus rarely deigned to visit Blackwell Manor, and it brought a stark reminder of the stakes.
I swiped at my face, but Baz shook his head. “I’ll go let him in.”
My face scrunched. “You can’t let him in.”
Despite his tense shoulders, a smirk teased his lips. “It’s my Manor,” he reminded. A light in the corner flickered, and his shoulders loosened just a tad. “My apologies to the Manor. Willit be all right if I go downstairs and open the front door?” he asked, his chin tilting up to the ceiling as he spoke.
“But you shouldn’t. Men of your standing never?—”
“Fairy,” he said lightly, but his dark eyes swept over me. “You’re not opening the door.”
I stopped scrubbing at my tear-stained face. My cheeks were the least of my worries. I was soaked in sweat and my dress rumpled.
