Page 19

Chapter nineteen

T his shower is amazing. The heat pounding down on my shoulders is forcing some of the tension from my body. If only it could wash all of it away. Along with my dark feelings of guilt.

But mere water has never had that power, and I suspect I will always feel dirty. Never truly clean. Not only because of the fey and their twisted secrets. It would be unfair to blame the entirety of my heavy conscience on them. I’m no innocent soul. I was a Secret Agent for many years before I came here. I have seen things, done things, things that most people couldn’t live with. If heaven is real, it is not for me.

So I really don’t understand why Llywelyn’s involvement in Dyfri’s downfall has me so very rattled. I’m going round and around in circles trying to figure out what my problem is, but I’m getting nowhere. I’m going to have to let it rest, for now.

I sigh and angle my head under the spray. The downside of being in this shower, is that it is getting increasingly hard not to recall the mind-blowing sex I had with Llywelyn in here.

My cock is definitely making the association.

I glare down at it as if it is going to care about my state of mind. Unsurprisingly, it remains stubbornly hard.

I could have a quick wank. Or, I could go to bed where Llywelyn is probably waiting for me. He has been weirdly clingy all day. He will be up for sex. Even if he wasn’t, I have a feeling he wouldn’t say no to me. Not if that frantic blow job is anything to go by .

My stomach squirms uncomfortably. Llywelyn is an asshole. And a victim. And infatuated with me. That is three reasons to not touch him.

But I’m still his pet and he still has no other form of release. This is still a mission and having a game piece besotted with you, is every agent’s dream. My superiors would congratulate me if they knew.

A puppet prince on the throne who thinks he is in love with me? That’s a wet dream for my bosses. And a hell of a Christmas bonus for me. I’ll be able to buy a yacht.

Fucking hell. What a mess. I used to be able to simply roll with whatever was best for the mission. What a frigging time to suddenly develop morals.

I turn the shower off and wrap myself in a luxurious towel. I should really sort my hair out, but I can’t face dealing with it right now.

I step into the bedchamber and freeze. Llywelyn is on the bed. Naked. On his knees with his head down. Hugging a pillow, with his ass in the air.

As I stare in dumbfounded shock, he whimpers and arches his back, pushing his ass out even more. His puckered pink hole is on full display. Glistening with some kind of lube.

“Llywelyn?” I say, even though it is damn clear what he wants.

“Need you,” he mumbles, almost incoherently.

My heart sinks. I knew this wasn’t a kinky surprise. I have more brain cells than that. Nevertheless, I’m still bitterly disappointed. A straightforward, kinky surprise would have been lovely.

I step cautiously towards the bed. An incredible scent reaches my nose. Whatever perfume or cologne Llywelyn has doused himself in is amazing.

Gently, I reach out and touch his back. He is burning up, and he shudders at my touch. Carefully, I roll him over. He blinks up at me through his tousled hair that has fallen into his eyes. I brush it back. His golden eyes are all hazy and unfocussed.

“Are you drunk?” I ask .

He shakes his head. I can’t smell any alcohol on his breath.

“Been smoking hookah?” I say.

He shakes his head again.

I frown. “So, what is wrong with you?”

He winces, drops my gaze, and attempts to shrug. His cheeks are flushed. He is definitely not right. Is there a fey sickness that makes you horny? That doesn’t seem likely.

“Could you have been drugged?” I ask.

Llywelyn stares up at me and blinks slowly. “Dyfri wouldn’t.”

My eyebrows rise. My thoughts hadn’t gone to Dyfri. I’d been thinking of Prys. But this very well could be Dyfri’s revenge for not helping him escape Prys. My throat tightens. Unless Dyfri does know the awful truth after all.

Slipping Llywelyn an aphrodisiac and turning him into a shameless cock-slut would be a fitting vengeance.

“I can detect poisons,” mumbles Llywelyn.

Oh, I didn’t know that included the non-fatal kind, but that does make sense. Okay, that rules out Dyfri and any kind of revenge.

“Just horny,” whines Llywelyn as he lifts his hips up towards me.

His golden eyes are blazing. The soft, low lighting in the bedroom is catching his high cheekbones and all the stunning angles of his face. He is not displaying his horns, but the tips of his pale pointed ears are peeking through his shimmering hair. His skin is like snow and his lips are a cotton candy pink.

He is beautiful. Celestial. Otherworldly. Like a fallen angel. A fallen angel who wants me. A sun god lying beneath me, desperate for my cock.

I lick my lips. I don’t think I’m strong enough to resist this. I already know how earth-shattering having sex with him is. I know exactly what I’d be missing out on if I said no. And I don’t want to say no. I want more. I want him. I want to slide my cock into his tight hole and watch him squirm .

I think those morals I was worrying about earlier, have given up. They saw there was no hope for me and they shrivelled and died.

Either that, or my cock has seized control of the decision making.

I let the towel around my waist fall. I get onto the bed and position myself between Llywelyn’s spread legs. I’ve seen his lubed up hole. He has prepared himself for me. I don’t need to wait. I can sheath myself in him right now.

He lets out an impatient, needy whimper. My cock throbs in response. Arousal burns my last functional brain cell away.

I line my cock up to his hole, and my hips push forward. He gasps and throws his head back. His body opens for me and I slide easily into his tight heat. My aching cock is surrounded by his soft flesh. I groan in delight. Fuck, that feels good. He really is burning with some kind of fever. I can feel it around my cock. Intense heat. Copious lube. It is a heady combination.

His hips start to move. I’m still trying to catch my breath, and I was giving him time to adjust. But apparently he is too impatient for that. His hips thrust up and then slam down. Up and down. Again and again. Fucking himself on my cock while I hold still above him.

A strange rumble pours out of me. Carnal and feral and dripping with lust. My body takes over and my hips start to dance with Llywelyn. Picking up the rhythm. Thrusting in time. Slamming ourselves together.

His hole clenches and spasms around me. I look down between us and watch his cock spurt. I look back up and see his eyes roll back.

I grit my teeth and try to slow my hips.

“Don’t stop!” he commands.

Relief floods my soul. I really, really didn’t want to. I forgot that fey don’t have a refractory period. They can cum again and again. That seems almost like a fair exchange for not being able to masturbate .

I keep thrusting. Pleasure shoots along my nerve endings. Euphoria is lighting up my veins. I swear I’m glowing with it. Llywelyn is writhing and gasping. Every line of his gorgeous body shaped in ecstasy. Ecstasy that I am giving him.

He is taking my cock so well. He is loving it. Relishing it.

His sweet scent is filling my lungs. His soft cries are filling my ears. The feel of him is consuming all of my senses.

His fingers twist in the sheets beneath him. He wails as he cums again.

“Keep going!” he gasps.

I oblige.

A grin spreads over my face. This is a million miles from the man who lay still and unresponsive the first two times I fucked him. I have no idea what has brought on this change. But I like it. A lot.

I can feel my orgasm building. Swelling and growing. A tingling at the base of my cock. A tightening of my balls. Then, all of a sudden, it arrives. I’m grunting as my hips jerk, all rhythm lost. I pump my cum deep inside the prince.

Then I collapse breathlessly beside him. I’m seeing stars.

“More!” whines Llywelyn as he lifts his hips up.

“Sorry sweetheart,” I chuckle. “I’m human. I need a moment. Or several.”

Llywelyn keens. Like an animal in distress. A sound of grief and dismay. It makes my skin rise in goose pimples.

“Use your fingers!” he pleads.

“Alright, alright,” I say quickly.

I roll onto my side and plunge two fingers into him. He moans in relief. He is wet, with my cum and whatever slick lube he stuffed in himself. He feels good. I work my fingers in and out. I add a third and he moans his satisfaction.

His eyes are closed. His face is a sweaty mess of fucked out bliss and need. It is fucking hot .

My gaze drops down to his chest. His rosy pink nipples look even more plump than usual. Swollen, engorged and juicy. Begging to be licked.

I lean down and suck one into my mouth. Llywelyn screams in rapture. His hole clamps down around my fingers and his entire body convulses through an intense orgasm.

Oh lord. This is the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life. I’m going to be hard again, very, very soon. This is going to be the best night of my life.

I’m not going to make him ask again. It is clear he still wants more. My fingers start pumping in him again. And sure enough, he wails and arches his back.

I rearrange us so I can continue to finger fuck him while sucking on one nipple and using my free hand to squeeze and pinch his other nipple.

He spasms and makes the most depraved sound I have ever heard. It does something to my soul. It rearranges my brain chemistry.

I am altered.

I feel as if I have been sleeping my whole life and now I am finally awake. I am invigorated. Alive. Powerful.

And I have one goal in mind.

How many times can I make Llywelyn cum?