Page 17

Always be very careful what you ask of a Fae. Fail to do so, and I’ll show you what my wings can do.

My shoulder blades flex. The wings start to beat, their magnitude hauling me into Lark, the plumes’ intensifying the force of my cock inside her wet folds. I use the leverage to our advantage, the feathers’ velocity and mass strengthening every lurch of my waist, my wings helping me to fuck her more, and more, and more. It sends the roof of my cock striking into Lark’s folds, pushing us to the brink.

Lark shrieks with pleasure. “Holy…fucking…shit!”

“You wanted it,” I murmur roughly. “Now ride it.”

We unleash. I let go of her thigh, then brace her even higher against the wall. My beautiful mate nods, spreads her legs wide, and plants her soles on the walls. With her knees flanking my lunging ass, she takes every flap of my wings, her pussy grabbing my cock as it surges higher, higher, higher.

Shredded groans pull from my mouth. Sobs roll off her tongue.

My hand loosens from her wrists and tangles our fingers together. Our hands ball into a single fist above us, while my other arm flattens beside her head.

My abs crunch, perspiration building over the ridges as I work my cock, plying her swollen walls. Wafts of sweat and moonflowers throttle my senses. The scents throw me into a tailspin, into a place where madness, mayhem, and mutiny coexist.

And I love it, I love this bond, I love her.

Secured in my arms, Lark presses her bare feet firmer against the wall. She uses it for support and jolts on my cock. Her divine tits pucker, the nipples sliding across my pectorals.

Our hips smash into one another, tireless, hopeless, ruthless. My waist thrashes with hers, the motions sinuous and frantic.

And while I’m capable of drawing this out until our bones fracture, I’m the one who loses the battle. “Lark,” I grate. “Please.”

She grabs my jaw and mouths against my lips. “Who’s got your trapped?”

“You do,” I pant.

“Who’s riding your cock?”

“You are.”

She nods again. “And who’s going to make you come?”

I felt my retinas burn into hers. “You will.”

And we launch at each other. The wet clamp of Lark’s pussy sucks me deeper, harder, longer. The bud of her clit abrades my erection, and when it does, we’re lost.

My heart disintegrates, my head dissolves, and my cock throbs for mercy. The impact of my thrusts splays her wider, makes her wetter. I pound into her with ardor, and she takes me into her with abandon.

I holler. At this rate, she’ll make me shout until I’m hoarse, but not before I make her scream first.

My wings whip the air, casting me into her. The quills tremble, and the vanes sizzle, the heat traveling from the plumes, to my heart, to my crown. It’s so critical, I can’t tell which will expire first.

At last and too soon, her cries multiply and begin to fray. Her quavering thighs give in and twine around me once again, as if needing me to hold them up.

“That’s it, Lark,” I encourage. “Take it there. Take it right there.”

“Don’t stop,” she implores. “Keep fucking me, Cerulean.”

“Eternally.”

Our moans turn ragged, strung out. Lark’s breasts pit into my damp chest and jostle with our movements. I wedge my thumb between us and pat the kernel between her legs, stroking that sweet little clit jutting from her center.

Her desire pours down my length. Her walls contort, and her eyes tense, almost there, nearly there.

Another roar builds in my lungs. I pitch into her quicker, quicker still. Her dripping slit parts so easily for my erection, her body catching the brunt of my hips.

Her pussy flutters around me. She’s about to come so beautifully.