Page 49

She couldn’t help the helpless sound she made. Who cared whether this was a good or sensible idea? It was abruptly the only possible idea she could hold on to.

“Bed, yes,” she gasped.

His room was closest, and the short distance to it set her whole body vibrating with anticipation. As soon as the door shut, they were kissing again, urgently, undoing each other’s clothing in between breaths, becoming briefly, hopelessly tangled in their impatience.

“Stop, no, we can’t both do it at the same time,” she said with a breathless laugh.

He fell back, panting. His claws slid out.

“Don’t you dare,” she said severely. “I like this dress.”

The claws slid back in. “I did like it,” he grumbled. “Currently I’m feeling considerably less fond towards it.”

“Patience is a virtue.” Though, she was finding it hard to remember why, fumbling behind her for the ties. Maybe she didn’t like this dress all that much either.

“May I help? The hard way,” he clarified.

She turned so he could reach. He unwrapped her with excruciating care, as if she were one of his jewelled creations, all fine wire and delicate beading.

When she turned back, his aspect had grown sharper, his red curls feathery in parts, his teeth unmistakably more predatory. Gisele found it appealing and was far beyond worrying what that said about her tastes in men.

Mal seemed determined to set every inch of her aflame with the lightest possible touches, caressing her skin as he undid buttons and painstakingly pulled each layer clear.

He knelt at her feet and kissed her knees as he rolled down her stockings, folding each garment carefully into a neat pile.

His hands were trembling, and his breath had quickened.

When the last piece of her clothing fell away, she couldn’t help the surge of self-consciousness. She knew she’d inherited a decent enough portion of her mother’s beauty, if not the full measure, but she was also a woman of a certain age who hadn’t had a lover in some years and he was, well, him .

His expression, however, was doing wonders for her self-esteem. A low flame burnt in his eyes, hot enough to warm all the way down to her bones.

She sat down on the bed and gestured imperiously at him. “Now you.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, too busy silently devouring her. Flattering, but not getting them anywhere.

“Mal? Time is wasting?”

He came back to himself with a jerk, flashing her a grin. “I was…distracted.”

He pulled off his neckcloth, clumsy in his haste. In contrast to the slow seduction he’d made of undressing her, he shed his own clothing with impatient practicality, though he was vain enough to cock his hip and strike a pose when he was done. Other things cocked interestingly as well.

“Well? Do I please you?” His tail curled in a lazy S. His bare skin glittered with gold, the swirling tattoos of her dream. The nipple piercing had also made the happy journey to reality, although with one modification: the gold had been replaced with a different metal.

“I think I need a closer look to decide.”

He grinned and pounced with feline agility, landing on the mattress with a puff of air.

She laughed, but her amusement quickly shifted into something hotter as he leaned over to kiss her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, his hands running teasingly down her side.

The reverent way he touched her made something in her unfurl, unsure yet yearning.

She dug her fingers into his shoulder muscles, trying to ground herself against the sudden feeling of being unmoored.

“You’re interfering with the inspection,” she informed him, and he fell back with a chuckle, crossing his arms obediently behind his head.

“Inspect away, then.” His tone was easy, but she could feel how much it cost him to keep still as she traced the lines of his tattoos, the little jerks in his breathing giving him away.

When she found her way to the piercing, his whole body arched as it had in the dream.

He made a tormented sound in the back of his throat as she played with it.

Shivers of pleasure raced through the bond, and her own nipples responded, tightening to painful points.

It was immensely satisfying, and she proceeded to give it a thorough inspection indeed.

His pupils had shifted, expanded far past the point a human’s could so that only a thin ring of colour showed around each. “Gisele,” he pleaded.

“I’m not done yet,” she told him, but she left the piercing behind with one final tweak that made them both gasp, tracing his tattoos lower.

“These are lovely.” She took a sharp breath upon discovering just how low the designs went, curling around his shaft in glittering veins of gold.

She’d never before considered cocks beautiful, but his was, an erotic work of art. “Wasn’t this painful to have done?”

He groaned at her touch, and a smug part of her enjoyed watching him struggling to find words. “Was—made—with—magic,” he gasped out as she traced the golden veins up and down. “ Gisele .”

She could get used to hearing her name said that way. “Oh, all right. You pass inspection.”

“Thank you,” he said fervently, reaching for her.

The world narrowed to the pleasure of touch.

She could feel how hungry he was for it, how he relished every brush of contact, echoing her own starvation, her own insatiable appetite for skin-on-skin.

The bond made them preternaturally attuned and magnified every sensation, his pleasure and hers, doubling back again and again.

She traced a line down his spine, fascinated by how his skin gave way to the plush velvet of fur.

He growled deep in his throat, tail lashing, and before she knew what was happening, she found herself flipped onto her stomach, his weight pressing her down, his mouth hot against her where neck met shoulder.

His cock pressed hard against her backside.

A pulse of need washed over her. She wanted—he wanted—something hot and possessive.

“Was that a don’t-touch-me-there, then?” she gasped.

“ No ,” he growled. “The opposite. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His weight eased off her, and when she sat up, his eyes were wide. She could still feel the heat of his mouth, knew it had left a mark on her skin. His gaze went to it, and fire flared in his eyes.

“Well, let’s see if we can make it come over you again,” she said, straddling him. The desire in her was too urgent to wait.

His eyes burned like black stars, and he went utterly still, holding his breath as she aligned them and sank down slowly.

Her own breaths came in unsteady gasps, each one making her excruciatingly aware of him edging his way inside her, inch by inch.

His hands were on her thighs, and she could feel the fine tremor running through them.

He exhaled in a rush. Abruptly she was aware once again of the echo-sensation of his pleasure mingling with hers, disorienting but good.

She began to move, with slow deliberation, drawing out each slide.

Our lady, but he, she— they felt good. The borders between them blurred, emotions swirling in to mix with physical sensation.

The intensity of it pushed out everything else, the lurking fear of revealing too much, feeling too much, the deep sense of failure that had been a part of them for so long.

For the moment, there was only this, the aching vulnerability of souls laid bare. It was more than sex. It felt like?—

A sudden burst of pleasure joined the twinned-sensation, blooming exactly—there—between her legs, startling her, because his hands were still on her thighs. She paused, breaking the rhythm, and he made an animal snarl of protest, bucking upwards.

“ Gisele .” He cursed as she dismounted, almost glad to pull back from the shocking intimacy that had been building between them. She felt shaken.

His shaft was slick with their joining, the gold designs luminous. At the base, something else protruded, made of the same glittering gold. That’s what she’d felt. It retracted as she watched, and she touched the spot where it had withdrawn. Mal shuddered.

“What in Panthea is that?!” she asked. “Mal?”

Again, he struggled for words as she pressed her fingers against him. There was something rather delightful in seeing her oft-long-winded scholar rendered so inarticulate, but she needed an answer. Reluctantly, she stopped touching him. “Explain.”

“It’s just me ,” he said indignantly. “Retractable knurl. Have you never seen—” He blinked, realising.

“No, I haven’t. Human men don’t generally have them,” she answered, amused. “Is this a standard fae feature?”

“Varies,” he gasped as she stroked him again.

Delicate skin quivered, and the extra piece of anatomy emerged once again.

The knurl had the same velvet hardness as his cock and appeared to produce similar results in its owner when touched, she observed, as Mal’s eyes rolled back in his head when she rubbed it between two fingers, a pulse of pleasure humming through her.

“What a nice surprise,” she mused.

“Will you let me use it, then?” His voice was rough with need.

“Soon,” she promised. “I missed this in my earlier inspection, after all.” She was enjoying teasing him far too much, the echo of his pleasure bubbling through her veins, sharpened by his frustration.

This felt far safer than what had been building between them before.

She couldn’t bear to face that slow merging of heart and mind again, that delusion of making love .

Her mind shied from the word even as she thought it.

No, better to keep this what it was. Simple pleasure. Fucking.

She played with him, letting the safely distanced pleasure thrum through her, until his whole body was knotted with constraint and she was shivering and slick with the same arousal.

“Gisele,” he groaned, driven incoherent but for that one word. “ Gisele .”

In that moment, she could feel her own power over him, that he would do…anything. Anything at all, if it pleased her. His eyes were huge and filled with something beyond desire, a complete offering of self. Take me. Have me. Want me. Let me.

“Very well,” she whispered sweetly in his ear, emphasising the words with an extra twist. “I want you inside me, now.”

That was all it took to unleash him. Surging upwards, he toppled her and slid home in a single thrust that made them both hiss in satisfaction.

He began to move over her, his eyes fixed on hers, the intimacy too much, but she was trapped in it, catching his rhythm, arching up to meet him.

His strokes grew hard and deep, each one driving her higher and higher, extra anatomy finding the aching bundle of nerves and striking again and again until she cried out, overwhelmed with the pleasure of it.

She tried to hold herself apart as they blurred together, but the sensation washed all coherent thought away, leaving only want. Want stronger than mere physical need, filling all the cracks in her soul, making her whole for one glorious, incandescent moment.

Slowly, they separated, panting as they came back to themselves. Mal was staring at her with soft wonder, and her frightened, guarded heart gave a painful thump of hope.

She looked away, feeling oddly shy. “That was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Nice?” he said in a strangled voice.

“Good, then,” she amended with a smile. “Or at least, I thought so. Didn’t you?”

He got off her with a growl. “You are the most—most provoking woman. Wait there.”

She heard him stalk off to the corner of the room, then the sound of water.

She felt too languid to move before he returned, moistened cloth in hand.

Her heart melted a bit as he tended to her, grumbling the entire time about ungrateful mortals.

None of her previous lovers had been anything like as thoughtful.

Or anything like at all , she admitted to herself.

“It was more than good,” she allowed sleepily.

“I know that,” he said gruffly, but she could feel his burst of satisfaction at her words. He climbed back into the bed and matter-of-factly gathered her into him, possessive as a cat.

She didn’t protest.