Page 49 of The Surrender

“Thank you for the meal, Ollie,” I express with a soft smile.

He ruffles the abundant feathers around his collar. Oh, if his white fluff could blush...The first time I’d mentioned the nickname, he was taken aback, but I could judge it was not an unpleasant surprise. Now, I’ll just need one for Eyn-Amaru.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t eat the main course of the guardian game. It just...” I cover my mouth at the thought of the pungent scent of the meat, the smoky spices, and the ripe, bloody flesh.

“Apology accepted, Lady Quinny,” he concludes with a bow while draping a silk cloth over his shoulder.

The second he’s gone, I flinch at the loss of dragon heat on my one side. “What are you—oh!”

I moan from Drago capturing my bare feet at the base of the bed where he lowers himself. Not just capturing. My blood warms and slows languidly as he buries his fingers into the tender soles. He’s massaging my feet?

As I lean back against the bed, closing my eyes as my body grows languid, Mayce shifts my shoulders. With his heady breath casting the scent of sweet herbs, the Fae lifts me up and gets under me until my back is draped across his frame. Nowhere near as ridged with boulders of muscle like Drago, but the Fae still bears the sculpting of fine-rippled sinew. Sinew I feel down to my core as he caresses the knots in my neck and shoulders.

Moans and sighs without number escape my throat from how they excel at this brand of torment. Mayce’s perfect nails massaging my scalp, Drago’s large fingers caressing my calves with aching tenderness. All my being pulls toward them and their affections. But most to Drago. A gravity in my chest that seems to deepen with every moment.

I shudder from their reverence, from the heat swelling until sweat breaks out on my skin, and I’m nearly gasping annoyed breaths from the nightgown clinging to my frazzled flesh.

I inhale deeply when Drago hurls off the heavy blankets while thrusting my nightgown up to my thighs. Fresh air engulfing my legs gives me sweet relief, but it does nothing to ease the tiny spasms between my thighs. Or the heated ache. Or the dampness plaguing my pussy.

“Oh!” I moan again as my scaled monster adds to it by rubbing his lips along the inside of my knee and roving them up along my inner thigh.

“Drago!” Mayce growls, and Drago pauses with the heated heaven of his mouth a breath from my sad and desperate center.

I stiffen from the rare sound issuing from his throat like subtle rolls of thunder. It vibrates into my spine, lighting up my nerves with the Fae god’s dominant impatience.

“You promised, brother.”

With a deep grunt, Drago rises while tapering his brows. “Fine, Fae. Your turn.”

Relief has me relaxing even as Mayce’s chest rises with his anticipation. A smile teases my lips at the feeling of his heartbeat quickening against my back. It nearly pounds out of his chest as he raises my nightgown to bunch at my hips.

“She needs a little something first.” Oh! I know that tone that has dipped to a sultry, conniving octave in the Fae’s voice. At first, I tense, bracing myself until Mayce kisses down the side of my neck and palms my breast. “Relax your muscles, little one.”

“Yes, Tessie.” Drago simpers. “Let Daddy Mayce take care of you now.”

Another low snarl from the Fae, but the telltale curving of one corner of his mouth doesn’t escape me. Or the way his cock jerks behind his breeches at the term. Or how a muscle bounces in his cheek.

Regardless, I do as he says, take a few deep breaths, and relax the muscles around my sphincter ring. Daddy Mayce, I muse on the word, rolling it around in my mind as the Fae rubs one cheek, squeezing it, and pulling it to one side.

“That’s it, sweet girl...” he commends me and rubs my erect nipple through the fabric. “Like that, don’t you, Quintessa?” He slowly probes my tight ring with a familiar, cold metallic object. “Like it when my brother calls me “Daddy”, don’t you?”

As the cone-shaped plug slides in, I understand it’s bigger than the last.

“Mmm...” I close my eyes and try to lean into the plug as he wiggles it, pushing with the gentlest slowness. The pressure drags burning tears to clog my throat.

“Mmm, indeed you do, little one. After my ruffian brothers, you need someone like me to take care of you.” More pressure until it’s burning, and the plug pops in.

I hiss from the hot pressure. Tears sting my eyes, but I’m too preoccupied with Mayce’s words and his attention on my peaked bud. The pressure might hurt, might burn, but the wetness is oozing from my slit.

“Rest assured, I’ll be the first to fuck this sweet, tight ass. But I’ll take care of you, sweet girl. All of you. Just as I’ll take care of some of you now,” he hums in my ear and nips the lobe, prompting me to whimper while he pumps that plug in and out. A tender but powerful fucking.

Drago towers over me at the base of the bed, studying his partner. His eyes, like emerald jewels, cast into flame. I tremble as Mayce palms my backside, pushes the plug in deep, then trades places with his partner.

“Oh, burning gods!”

I squeal from the Fae king spreading my thighs and kneeling before me in all his heartbreaking beauty. Those cheekbones alone, higher than the Court of Storms spire, higher than the Waste’s highest peak, are the epitome of insanity. I court insanity with one brandish of his full, sensual lips and the subtle glint in his warm and deep eyes that lock on mine.

“You will feast on the juice of my Fae fruit someday, Quintessa. But tonight, I shall feast on your sweet and dripping juice.”

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