Page 35 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

When he pulled back slightly, her senses rushed in.

The wooden floor of the loft was hard beneath the pallet, the air was cool on her skin where he had touched her, moonlight floated through the window, illuminating the planes of his jaw and the tips of his pale ears.

He is one of the fair folk…

But he was not cruel or cold. He was gentle, his every touch bringing pleasure.

And he was so deliciously warm.

He leaned in again, brushing his lips against her collar bone, sliding his thumb beneath her sleeping gown and loosening the collar so that it opened to expose her bare breasts.

She gasped as the cool air caused her nipples to pebble.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, leaning down as if mesmerized.

She watched as he bent to nuzzle her breasts and then lick one nipple into his mouth like a feeding babe.

“Blackthorn, what are you--” she began.

But when he applied gentle suction, she felt her back arch up with the pleasure of it.

He toyed with the other nipple between his fingers.

Something cried out in the darkness. It took a moment for Farrow to realize it was her.

Something like hunger, but deeper, unfurled in her, throbbing and insistent, flooding her with heat.

Blackthorn pressed his lips to her belly, as if trying to answer it.

Her nipples, still wet from his kisses, tightened painfully in the cool air.

But Blackthorn had forgotten them. He was kissing her hips now, and pressing her thighs apart with his beautiful hands as he lifted her sleeping gown.

“No,” she breathed with the last of her resistance. “Not there.”

“I will leave you as I found you,” he promised again, his voice a desperate rasp. “I only want a taste. Let me solace you.”

He pressed his lips to her inner thigh, and she moaned in surrender, letting her legs fall open for him.

The first touch of his tongue sent an electric current of need through her. Pleasure coursed in her veins, and her heart began to pound even harder than before.

Blackthorn groaned, as if her taste gave him pleasure too.

The vibration of his sound shivered through her sex and had her arching her back and practically clawing at the straw for more contact with his wicked mouth.

His tongue plunged and flickered, hungrily exploring every fold as she whimpered and cried, until at least he reached the taut jewel that spasmed and ached for his touch.

She moaned and thrashed as he teased all around it, his hot breath the only touch he allowed.

Her need was drowning her, the breath from her lungs seemingly stolen as every part of her concentrated on the stiff little gem.

“Please,” she whispered.

He lapped firmly at her jewel, dragging a finger against her opening without penetrating at the same time.

The pleasure was blinding. She cried out his name as he continued working her with his eager mouth.

She felt her whole body going stiff, muscles contracting, readying her for something.

---