Page 44 of A Storm of Fire and Ash

I couldn’t help the smug smile tugging at my lips as we slipped away.

Zayn led me to a tucked-away table in the far corner of the ballroom, nearly swallowed by heavy blue drapes.

With a flick of his fingers, he lifted one side like a curtain, and I ducked beneath it.

Inside was a shadowy little alcove—just a small round table, two chairs, and the hum of voices and music outside the curtain.

We sank into our seats, and Zayn uncorked the whisky with his teeth, pouring us both a heavy glass.

The burn of the first sip was immediate, but welcome.

As we drank, we people-watched through the small opening of the curtain, like we weren’t part of their world—like we were above it, or maybe beneath it, tangled in something far deeper. I was well aware of how close Zayn sat next to me.

“I swear, if Makar spins Kalista one more time, her big ol’ boobies are gonna pop out of that dress,” I said, grinning as we watched them twirl and dance, again and again.

“That’s probably why he keeps spinning her so much,” Zayn said, and we laughed. He paused and then looked at me, really fucking looked at me, and said, “I love that sound.” His hand came up and brushed my lips. I shut my eyes at his touch.

“Do you feel it too?” I took a sip from my drink, feeling drunk.

“Feel what, Peach?”

“When you touch me… my body hums. Vibrates. I don’t know how to explain it.” I bit my lower lip, feeling silly for asking, but blamed it on the alcohol.

Zayn’s eyes darkened. The playful glint vanished, replaced with something rougher—possessive. His voice dropped, barely more than a growl. “You have no fucking clue what my body does when you are near…” I put my hand on his thigh as I watched his mouth.

I wanted to kiss him so bad.

He looked down at my hand on his thigh and then back up to me with one raised brow, taking a sip of whisky. I brought my hand up higher and higher and lightly grabbed his hard-as-rock cock. He choked on his whisky, and I smiled.

“Oh, Peach. You’re going to wish you didn’t do that. Two can play that game.” His grin was wicked—sinful.

Eryn and Gavrin came over to us, and I quickly moved my hand from Zayn’s crotch and placed them both on the table. “You two are looking comfy in here,” Eryn teased.

Gavrin reached for the whisky bottle and took it. “I need a drink. Feeling parched from all this dancing,” he teased Eryn and then took a swig.

Zayn’s hand went to my thigh. I quickly cross my legs, trapping his hand between them, preventing him from going any further.

“Uncross your legs. Don’t make a sound.” He said in my head.

My heart caught in my throat. I opened my mouth, but his words caught me off guard again. I wasn’t even sure if Eryn and Gavrin were talking to me. I couldn’t function with his hand on me. “And don’t give your face away.”

I uncrossed my legs.

“Good girl. I think you like being told what to do.”

I almost moaned.

“You guys haven’t danced yet. You are far too beautiful, Elara, to be sitting here, hiding that gorgeous dress of yours,” Eryn smiled and took the whisky bottle from Gavrin.

“I—I, ugh…” Zayn’s hand went up higher, pushing my thighs wider apart, and then he went under the slit of my dress.

I brought my hand to my mouth while the other grabbed the edge of the table. Eryn gave me a puzzled look and then her eyes went wide and she smirked. She elbowed Gavrin and they left us to go dance some more.

I was mortified. They probably sensed my arousal.

I smacked Zayn’s arm. “What are you—” I moaned as he tore—no shredded—my panties with just one hand. “Holy Divine.” I didn’t even have time to think. To act. He rubbed his fingers around me.

“Gods, Elara. You are soaked.” He leaned in closer, pushing his lips to my neck and my head rolled, exposing more skin for him. He lightly bit my neck and then started rubbing my clit. I sat back in my chair, and I moaned.

“Shh.” A wicked grin spread across his lips. He leaned in, brushing his lips against my ear. “You’re about to have the time of your life. I can’t promise you the stars baby… but I’ll make you feel like you’re burning among them.”

I was gone—absolutely sent.

My breath caught. The heavy blue fabric shielded us from sight, the music still loud, the ballroom still crowded. But I couldn’t move. He worked my clit faster and then slid one finger in. I grabbed his arm that was on the table and dug my nails into his skin.

Gods.

My other hand curled tight around the edge of the table, knuckles white. “Do you know how utterly gorgeous you are right now? Your pouty red lips… your flushed cheeks… my fingers fucking this drenched pussy…” He sank a second finger in while his thumb skillfully stroked my bud.

His breath was hot against my skin. He pressed his mouth softly to my neck again, and the sensation was enough to steal the air from my lungs.

I shouldn’t have wanted this—not here, not now—but something inside me thrilled at the danger.

At the devotion. At being worshipped by him like I was something holy.

“Fuck it, I have to have a taste.” Before I could register his words, he slid beneath the table too fast. My magic responded, flickering beneath my skin.

He grabbed both of my hips and pulled me forward to the edge of my chair. My eyes went wide and his mouth immediately found the place that made the world disappear. I had to bite my lip to keep from gasping.

Shit. I hissed silently.

“Gods, baby, you taste better than I fucking hoped.”

I moaned.

“Shhh, if you make another sound, I’ll stop.”

The world beyond the curtain faded. There was only Zayn. Only the pressure building in my core. Only the reverence of his touch and the way he made me feel like I was made of stars and wildfire and sin.

“This pussy belongs to me.” He sank his two fingers in as his tongue kept lapping at my clit. My hand smacked the table, causing our glasses to clink.

I could feel him smile against my lips.

“Focus on me, Peach.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

His tongue circled my clit faster as he moved his fingers in and out of me. I had to bite down on my palm, to keep me from screaming out. “Fuck, I want you so bad, Zayn.”

“I know you do, baby. Trust me, it’s nowhere near the want I have for you.” He thrusted faster, hooking his finger towards the spot that makes me come undone. He worked me with expertise, like he knew my body so well.

“You like that I’m doing this to you in public, don’t you?” His tongue flattened.

“Shit!”

“Answer me.”

“Yes! Yes, I do.”

“You like the thrill of being caught. My innocent Peach, not so innocent after all.” He laughed in the back of my mind.

I could feel my juices start to flow down my thighs.

“Gods, you are perfect. Let go for me, baby.”

And I did. All over his face.

I clutched the table so tight, I thought I might pull the cloth right off. I could feel the magnetic pull to Zayn as I found my release. My orgasm was earth-shattering, and I wanted to straddle him and come again. And again. And again.

Just as I shattered in silence, Zayn reappeared, sliding back into his seat like nothing had happened, a smug smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes that made my entire body hum. He licked his lips slowly, then licked both of his fingers clean. He leaned in. “You are delectable.”

I could barely speak. I was flushed, breathless, feral for him. But then the curtain fluttered. “There you are,” a voice cut through the haze.

Fintan.

He stood just outside the curtain, offering a stiff smile. “You promised me a dance.”

I swallowed hard, heat still curling in my belly, heart still racing. Zayn’s hand brushed mine under the table. And then he gripped my thigh tightly and whispered, “Mine.”

“Yes.”

I rose slowly, not wanting to dance with the prince, and smoothed down my dress. I forced a calm smile. “Of course.” Before I took his hand, I grabbed my glass and downed my whisky.

“Oh come on,” Fintan said, holding out his hand, “I promise I won’t step on your little feet.

” Fintan’s hand gripped mine as the music shifted into a slower melody, and before I could refuse, I found myself drawn into a dance with him.

His gloved palm pressed lightly at my waist, but I could feel the tension in his body even through the fabric.

“Getting cozy with my guard, huh?” he said, his voice sharp and forced into a smile.

I stiffened. “He’s my friend. You and I aren’t together anymore, Golden Boy,” I snapped, my tone cool, but my heart thudding.

“Friend…” Zayn’s voice rumbled in my mind.

“Ouch,” he muttered, though his expression didn’t carry a trace of pain—just irritation.

His fingers tightened around mine, and his hand at my back pulled me closer, too close.

My breasts brushed against his chest with every turn.

I tried to pull back, but he only gripped me harder.

“You know my mother is livid,” he said under his breath.

“With what you’re wearing. With how you’ve humiliated me and paraded around like you’re untouchable. ”

I narrowed my eyes, my magic sparked. “I didn’t humiliate you.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak for a moment.

Then, quieter, almost reverent, he murmured, “You tell me you need space, I give it. Yet you get cozy with Zayn at MY ball. You then tell me I deserve better, but what I deserve is standing right the fuck in front of me right now…” His eyes searched mine.

He brought his hand up and brushed my lips with his finger.

“You look beautiful, Elara. Truly.” His hand grazed the bare skin of my back, right over the scars.

I froze. “I still can’t believe you wore this dress, but you look beautiful. ”