Page 25

Lysander’s puzzled face makes me chuckle, and I’m relieved to see his death grip on the arms of the chair slowly loosens. His eyes rove over me.

“You’re wearing the Night Prince’s costume.”

“Am I?” I preen, as if I didn’t feel like an impostor the second I put it on.

“He’s a myth. A creature of shadow who steals all the green of the world, and the fairy king has to steal it back. At the midwinter festival there’s meant to be a play — that’s what the costume is for.”

“I am here to steal something.” You. I lift the amulet off, but Lysander doesn’t change — he’s not wearing his amulet today.

He’s bare to all eyes.

“I pledge to you.” I hold the amulet up by its cord. Lysander leans in, his robe rustling. “I know it’s only symbolic, since I’m a human and everything. It’s not like I’m looking to pop out babies.”

“I accept your pledge,” Lysander interrupts mercifully. “I’ll give you my Oath, Ezra. May you be endowed with whatever fertility you desire.”

My name on his tongue gives me chills. He lifts the amulet to his mouth and presses his lips to the cold gem, and I have to grip the edge of the dais. Do I have some kind of previously undiscovered royalty roleplaying kink? Because Lysander kissing my amulet kinda makes my knees weak.

He is actually a prince. It’s not just the magical lighting or the outfit or the ritual. It’s the tilt of his head, the confidence as he leans down and hands me the amulet back. The rich glow in his eyes.

He shifts in his seat fractionally, and sudden knowledge knocks me flat.

He’s turned on by this .

I straighten. “How long do you need to stay?”

His fingers tighten on the arms of the chair again. “I can leave.”

“What happens at the end of the ceremony again? A blessing ?” I parrot Orion’s words. A series of quiet gasps and growls drift up from the room to fill the space after my words. The fabric of Lysander’s robe shivers.

“With a willing sacrifice,” Lysander breathes.

“I’m willing, but I’m not into public sex,” I say half-jokingly, but he says nothing, his body arching toward me almost imperceptibly.

I practically vault onto the dais. Lysander’s eyes go wide. He’s light enough that I can lift him with ease, even though he’s nearly as tall as me, and he grabs my shoulder with a gasp as I swing him up bridal style.

“Ezra!”

I grin. “Where to, my prince?”

I set Lysander down on a fancy table in some kind of library.

I have no idea where we are, or if we’re even allowed to be here.

It’s a luxurious-looking room with a piano in the corner, huge floor-to-ceiling shelves, ornate furniture, and a massive fireplace.

I take it all in with just a glance, because really I only have eyes for him.

Moonlight comes through the massive window, making him glow.

He pulls his robe off impatiently as I lock the door behind us, leaving it crumpled in a heap on the ground.

Under the robe he’s wearing what’s basically a velour bodysuit in midnight blue, and when he stretches out on the table it shows off every curve and angle — including the swollen mound between his legs.

I swallow. It should look ridiculous, but instead it’s sexy as hell.

I step in close and run my fingers up his sides, feeling his chest expand.

I lean down and put my lips to his ear. “I want to suck you off.”

The catch of his breath is loud in the empty room. Under my palms, his heartbeat picks up.

“Yes,” he hisses, hands going to his buttons.

I push his hands away. “I could have gotten on my knees right there. Pushed your robe up and knelt between your legs in front of them.”

He gasps as I slide a hand into his waistband and push the fabric off his hips, feeling my way down his body. “Ezra!”

I groan into his cheek. Hearing my name out of his mouth never gets old.

His cock is still hidden, so I slip my fingers across the slippery edge of his open slit, pressing his firm mound with my palm at the same time, and his sharp intake of breath goes straight to my core.

I’ve touched him like this before in the warm light of his room, but here in the half dark with just about the entire monster community barely a few doors away, everything is more heightened.

I stroke him gently, savoring the feel of him.

His opening is soft and hairless. It starts at the front of his pelvis and runs down to where a human would have a taint, wet and warm inside, but shallow.

It’s not an entrance, just a hideaway that keeps his cock safe.

When he’s not aroused, it seals up and he becomes completely smooth.

It makes me strangely tender to feel it part under my fingers.

I dip my middle finger inside gently, close to where his cock comes out. It’s deliciously swollen and tender.

“This okay?” I murmur.

He pants. “That’s — it’s —”

“Words, baby.” I nuzzle his jaw. “I need you to tell me what feels good.”

I wriggle my finger in his warmth and he lets out a choked noise.

“It feels good,” he gasps.

A second finger joins the first. He’s all hot and wet from his natural lubrication, and when my fingers meet his emerging cock I’m suddenly the one making noises. God, I love all of this. His cock slides slickly across my fingers and nudges my palm, growing quickly.

“Please,” Lysander begs urgently, clutching my shoulders.

I tug him close as I stroke him. His brow furrows and his soft blue lips twist as if he’s in pain. I run my fingers up the slim shaft and he cries out, and without any warning his come bursts over my hand.

Fuck.

I steal the rest of his cries with my mouth, hungry to taste them. His body trembles. He’s so damn sensitive, I want to make him come again and again.

I drop to my knees and open his thighs. His sweet, heady scent hits me in the face and my cock jerks against my suit pants. His cock is still twitching when I swallow it, and the sweet-tart taste of his essence explodes over my tongue.

I made him fertile. Now I get to drink the reward.

Strong hands sink into my hair. I don’t usually like when guys hold me down, if I’m honest — it makes me feel trapped. But with Lysander I love it. I want him to take what he needs.

What he needs is to ride my mouth, which he does. Vigorously, and loudly.

His cock is long enough that if I had a gag reflex it’d choke me, but I got rid of that pesky thing a long time ago, so instead I get the throat-fucking of my life.

The thick base stretches my mouth while the slim tip probes my throat, and I can feel it squirming around, seeking pleasure with a mind of its own.

His juices slide down my chin liberally and his cries fill my ears.

But I’m not done with him — and I’m pretty good at multitasking.

As I flex my throat around him, I reach up behind his slit and let my fingers drift farther back.

Everything is so smooth and wet my finger just glides right across his tight pucker.

We haven’t done this at all. I love what we have been doing, and I’ve been determined to let him explore at his own pace.

Yet it’s crossed my mind he might not even think of this as a possibility, and I don’t want to deprive him.

Lysander’s thigh tenses under my free hand and I do it again, just petting him there, letting it sink in.

His hips slow, but as I rub a little harder he groans and starts fucking my mouth in earnest, tossing his head back, long hair rippling in the moonlight.

His rhythm is jerky and desperate. I suck hungrily, almost as eager as him.

I don’t mind bottoming, but I prefer to top — there’s nothing like feeling someone come apart on my cock.

When I think about fucking him my chest grows tight and I have to remember to breathe.

I pull off his cock, saliva and other ungracious fluids dripping from my bottom lip. “Do you like that, baby?”

In answer, he spreads his thighs wider.

“More,” he begs.

Who am I to deny that ?

This time I bypass his cock and lick down his wet slit, all the way down until I taste his taut, tender hole.

The noise he lets out sends goosebumps erupting over my skin.

I start slow, licking and probing alternately, letting him feel it — and from the moans he’s making, he definitely feels it.

His hips push back into my hands and my scalp tingles from his tight grip.

I probe deeper, softening him up, opening him.

He’s so fucking responsive. I love rimming but I’ve never met anyone who could come from it, yet the way his thighs are shaking, I bet he will. It fuels me to taste more.

Suddenly, without warning, his hole opens under my tongue and I’m sliding inside. His sweet, musky essence surrounds me. Then I have my answer. He goes tight and hard against my tongue. A loud, open-mouthed cry fills my ears and slick wetness suddenly coats my mouth. My vision goes hazy.

He did it.

I’m so hard I could come inside my pants without even touching myself. I pant against his skin, my fingers digging too hard into his hip as he writhes.

His convulsions finally slow and I pull back. His eyes are glazed and his jaw slack, and he’s flushed blue the color of his robe all the way down his chest.

I wipe my chin. “Holy christ, baby.”

“Your suit,” he gasps.

My borrowed suit jacket is covered in streaks of crystal droplets. His come. “Oops.”

“It’s filthy.” He sinks back on his elbows, looking guilty.

“It’s nothing. I’ll get it dry-cleaned.”

I lean in, telegraphing my intentions clearly in case he’s squeamish about kissing after, well, where my mouth has just been.

He tips his face toward me eagerly. His lips part and I deepen the kiss without meaning to, groaning when he arches into me.

My cock rubs the seam of the suit, sending excited shivers through me.

“Lysander…" I groan. “I really want to fuck you.”

His eyes go wide. I was a little worried he wouldn’t know exactly what that means, not sure how I’d explain it to him, but… yeah, he knows.

I expect him to say Not yet. I’m ready for hesitation, or uncertainty — most people need a little time to warm up to the idea if they’ve never done it before. I just want to let him know it’s an option. I hope when he’s ready, he’ll let me show him something no one’s ever shown him.

Instead, he opens his mouth and says, “ Yes .”

Then he takes my hand and guides it back between his legs.

My mouth drops open. The spark in his eyes says he’s pleased about managing to shock me. I have to kiss him again, quick and firm, my hand lingering between his thighs.

I pull back and shake my head. “Not here.”

His eyes dart to my crotch. There’s no hiding how turned on I am. I got him off twice — my ego’s the size of a planet right now, if I’m honest, and so is my erection.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I rasp. “Trust me. I’m a big boy — I can be patient.”

I pat the inside of his thigh. There’s one royal treatment I can give him, and that’s to show him exactly how good it gets. But I’m gonna do it in a proper bed.