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A great shiver rattles my quills. “You shall pay for—”

However, every potential bargain, riddle, tease, appeal, promise, and threat crumbles on my tongue like dust. I choke on the words as those wily digits vanish into the waistband of my trousers. Heat envelops me as Lark straps her fingers around my rigid cock, her grip fixed at the base.

To further her point, her other hand glides beneath my sac and balances its weight, her digits massaging. Air drains from my lungs. My fingers grasp her buttocks, clasping her to me, clinging to her for mercy’s sake.

A sigh of approval flutters into my ear, along with the turbulent shiver of my wings. I have the presence of mind not to clench my teeth so hard they crack.

We glance down, watching as Lark nudges the trousers just enough to free my aching cock. The head springs between us, its girth enlarged, the veins dilated, and the tip flushed.

My length flexes and spans higher. Lark hums with delight.

With unhurried precision, she swipes her thumb over the head and gathers the bead of liquid that has leaked from the slit. After another droplet rolls into her hand, she coats it over my foreskin, then cups her pussy and withdraws with her fingers glazed. She runs her arousal down my shaft, braces me in her grip, and oh, hell on earth…

Lark…

Her wet fingers encase my erection. And they begin to pump.

My hands clench her ass. “Fuck,” I mutter.

She tsks. “I’ll forgive you for that one.”

A pained chuckle flees my mouth. Vicious woman and her rules.

With her digits encapsulating me, my mate siphons up and down. With every rhythmic tug, she tempts the groans from my throat, which never escape my lips. I withhold them, all but the short and swift puffs of oxygen.

With our foreheads pressed and sweating, we stare at her hand fastened around me, pumping me to the brink. Each draw on my cock inflates its size, until I’m as firm as a lever.

As Lark reaches the crown, her thumb traces the incision at the apex, then again, and again. All the while, my mate caresses the sensitive pouch with her other hand. My eyes veer to the back of my head, which lolls backward and hangs heavy.

The ends of my hair skate over my wings. The friction ripples from my cock to the length of every rachis, to the marrow of my immortal bones. It’s gradual at first, but the tempest builds.

Eventually, I can’t stand it, because fuck, she does this so well, and it feels too heavenly, and to hell with the consequences.

Rules are meant to be broken. Such is the nature of a Fae.

I break the first one as my hips move, jutting up into her hand. And perhaps Lark has forgotten too, because she moans with me and drives her grip down, while I buck my cock higher. I chase the motions of her hand, offering myself to it, my abdomen contouring with the movements.

I commit the second infraction. Groans topple from me, along with her name.

As for the third rule, I do my utmost to obey until my bellows take on a desperate note, begging for more. The sounds grow louder, resound for longer.

I suffer through it until Lark leans and whispers, “Now, baby.”

Like a wild thing springing from its cage, I veer my cock into her hand several more times, then my wings tense. My joints spasm and release, molten heat gushing through my cock. I come with a hard, grating shout and spill into Lark’s hand, my body jerking into it.

White sparks of light inundate my vision, and the wind tosses my hair in my face, as if I’ve stirred up a tornado. While bracketed on my elbows, my head falls forward. Lark catches my lips and swallows the sounds of my rapture, all the while fisting my cock, drawing out my climax to the last drop.

The instant I slump, the wind funnel ceases. Shit. Indeed, I’d incited a miniature cyclone.

Pillows litter the floor, the overhead linens canopying the bed are tangled, and the torch sconces have been snuffed. Starlight enamels every furnishing in the room. The hinges that usually display our weapons are empty, because earlier in the park, we’d flung the javelin and whip to the ground.

Disoriented but still conscious of my release coating her hand, I sweep my fingers through the air, and the breeze wipes her skin clean. This convenience had entertained my mate to no end when I’d first done it.

Her digits comb through my hair, then balance my jaw and raise my face to hers. “Your eyes are so damn blue when you come,” she gloats, utterly thrilled with herself.

The vision kindles a new determination. I feel my eyes slitting, my stamina resurfacing.

Lark yelps as I seize her hips and fling her onto the bed. Her back hits the mattress, the expanse jolting beneath us. Her legs split as I land between them, my hips tucking into that vent, which radiates heat and slickness.