Page 8

Chapter Eight

FELICITY FORREST

“Fae do not love as mortals do. They claim, they consume, and if you’re not careful, they will leave you hollowed out and wanting.”

Book of Shadows ( Tír na Scáil Lost History), Forgotten Tomes Archive

H is mouth is everywhere. His hands are fire. Niall presses me into the mattress, pinning me down, his hips grinding into mine like he’s already inside me. My legs tighten around him, keeping him exactly where I want him. I shift, trying to ignore the friction, my clit throbbing at the pressure.

A moan slips from my lips, swallowed by his, and fuck, I want more. There’s nothing tentative in the way I drag him closer, nothing shy in the way I kiss him, hard, deep, like I plan to ruin him just as much as he wants to ruin me.

His hands roam, mapping my body, claiming every inch of bare skin he can reach. The scrape of his beard against my neck sends a sharp shiver down my spine, adding a delicious edge to the heat pooling low in my stomach. I arch under him, rubbing against the hard length of his cock, just to hear him groan.

“Felicity,” he growls, voice raw.

I fucking love how he says my name. Like it’s a prayer and a curse. I want to go slow, to take my time, to savour him, but I need him too much. Since the moment I met him, I’ve wanted this to happen.

I drag my nails down his back, biting his lower lip as I pull back enough to speak. The cool metal of his lip ring scrapes against my mouth, sending a thrill straight through me. “You gonna keep talking, or are you finally going to do something about it?”

His sharp inhale is all the warning I get before he shifts, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand, his body pressing me into the mattress.

His other hand snaps to my jeans, undoing them in a single, rough motion before dragging them down my legs. He’s not teasing now. He’s claiming. Taking.

My pulse pounds. Cool air kisses my thighs, and his gaze darkens. Predatory. Possessive.

I smirk, licking my lips. “Fair’s fair. You need to ditch yours too.”

His grin is wicked, his eyes dark with intent. “I’m going to bury my face between your thighs and feast on you until you’re dripping down my chin, until you can’t take another fucking second of my tongue in your pussy. You’ll beg me to stop—then I’ll make you beg for my cock.”

His filthy mouth shouldn’t turn me on this much, but gods, it fucking does. And he doesn’t waste time. He releases my wrists and his pants hit the floor. My gaze drops?—

Oh. Fuck.

My smirk falters for half a second before I recover, dragging my tongue across my lower lip. “Damn. No wonder you’re so cocky. Definitely should’ve stretched first.”

His grin is slow and knowing. “Aye, but let’s see how well you take it.”

Arrogant bastard. And I fucking love it.

I move forward, fisting his hair, pulling him into a kiss that’s nothing but heat and hunger and the sharp edge of teeth. His beard rasps against my skin, his groan rumbling against my lips as he pushes me back down, spreading me out beneath him, his hands gripping my thighs.

His fingers hook into the thin fabric still between us. He doesn’t rip them off—no dramatics. Just a slow pull that drags the lace down my thighs, over my calves, until he tosses them aside like he’s already forgotten they existed.

And now there’s nothing between us.

I spread my legs, revelling in the way his pupils blow wide as he takes in every inch of me. He grips my legs, pulling them farther apart so he can look at my pussy as if he’s memorising it.

“Gods be damned, love,” he mutters, voice thick. “Magnificent.”

I arch my back, reaching up to drag my nails down his chest. “Touch me like you’re already inside me.”

The moment his fingers slide lower, teasing along the slick, aching heat between my thighs, I gasp, hips jerking into his touch. He groans, head dipping to my throat, his lip ring catching on my skin as his teeth scrape against my pulse. Then he pushes one thick finger inside me. Then another.

Slow. Deliberate. Fucking torturous.

“Gods, you’re so wet for me,” he growls against my skin. “So fucking needy.”

I roll my hips into him, taking his fingers deeper. “Then do something about it.”

His answering laugh is wicked. “Oh, love. You have no idea what you just asked for. Aingeal nó diabhal , you’ll be screaming for me just the same.”

He moves down, lips trailing over my ribs, my stomach, lower. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider, and then?—

His mouth is on me.

Heat. Wet. The slow, sinful drag of his tongue against my clit, the cool press of his lip ring. Oh, how fucking good it feels.

“You taste fucking delicious, ” he murmurs against me.

He’s lying between my thighs, his tongue lapping casually at my cunt.

I bite my lip, trying to slow the powerful orgasm building inside me. But he speeds up his pace, his tongue flicking mercilessly against my swollen clit.

I cry out, fisting the sheets, writhing beneath him as he devours me.

He doesn’t let up. Doesn’t slow down. He holds me open and keeps me pinned beneath his mouth, his growl vibrating against my slick, pulsing heat.

I grind into him, desperate for more, and his fingers sink inside me, stretching, curling, hitting just the right spot.

“Fuck, Niall?—”

His beard rubs against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, his lips wrap around my clit, sucking hard enough to send sharp pleasure rocketing through me.

My body tightens, a slow, torturous build, heat pooling low, tension coiling tighter with every flick of his tongue. My breath shatters, a broken sound spilling from my lips as pressure peaks, threatening to consume me.

Then—release.

It tears through me, ripping a moan from my throat as my thighs clamp his head, my pussy tightening on his fingers. Pleasure crashes over me again and again. My chest arches up as my eyes squeeze closed, one hand fisting in his hair, the other gripping the sheets as I cry out his name. My thighs quake against his shoulders, his deep, satisfied growl vibrating through me, prolonging every pulsing aftershock.

I release my grip on his hair, trying to hold myself together, but I can’t. The world tilts, shifts, and suddenly, I swear I’m not even touching the sheets. I’m adrift in the haze of him, floating in the afterglow. And when I finally come back down, gasping, boneless, he licks his lips, eyes dark with hunger.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice rough. He rears up, a satisfied smirk curling his glistening lips. He licks his fingers clean as I watch, and I can’t take it anymore. “Now, let’s see how many times I can make you say my name.”

And then he goes back for more.