Page 142

In the earlyhours of morning, Des wakes me up. Rolling over me, he begins kissing me, his lips demanding.

I feel him hard against me, ready to go.

I moan a little, the siren in me already waking up. “Again?” I say, opening my arms to him even as I speak. “Aren’t you even a little tired?”

I already throb from the two previous times tonight that he’s woken me up. But in spite of myself, I smile like a cat that’s licked up all the cream, utterly pleased.

Des lets out a husky laugh. “Cherub, there are benefits to being the Night King’s mate.”

My skin begins to glow all over again. Normally, my siren is left wanting. Always wanting. But the King of Night knows exactly how to satisfy her.

How to satisfy me.

I move against him as his lips skim over my skin.

“Can’t get close enough to you, love,” he murmurs. “You leave me wanting, even when I’m buried inside you.”

I know the feeling. Already there’s this urgency that buzzes along my skin, to touch him, to taste him, to breathe him into me and never let him go.

And under all that is pure unadulterated awe.

Deslovesme. Des spent seven years trying to get back to me.

Des has no idea what it means to bemymate.

I push him onto his back. His arms lock around my waist, and I end up straddled on top of him, my hair cascading down my back.

He reaches out and takes a handful of it, staring at it like he’s never seen hair before.

I lean forward, my hands running over his chest and down his arms. “Sweet little fairy,” I purr, my voice melodic.

Des raises a cocky eyebrow at that. He doesn’t even need to say anything for us both to know thatsweetandlittleare the last things his is.

“I’m going to give youallyour wickedest desires,” I whisper, the siren thick in my voice.

I begin trailing kisses down his chest, moving lower, lower. “One … at … a … time.”

He sucks in a breath when he realizes what I intend.

Lowering myself between his legs, my mouth closes around him.

His entire body tenses.

“Gods,” he curses.

His hands delve into my hair, tangling it.

I move up and down, up and down, working him with my lips and tongue, my hands moving over every pleasure point until I have him bucking against me.

His breathing hitches, becoming ragged and uneven.

He’s not going to last long. The thought makes me smile wickedly against him.

All at once, he pushes me away. When my eyes meet his, I see rampant hunger in his own.

“You do play dirty, siren,” he says, rolling me onto my stomach.

Lifting my hips up, he rubs the head of his cock over my entrance. Up and down, up and down.