Page 34 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen (Curse of the Fae #4)

I bite the insides of my cheeks not to scream, caught in an endless high that marries tingles of delight with harsh, violent clenches. Seth holds my hips in place, driving two fingers in and out of me in quick, repetitive bursts. “That’s it, ride the storm, darling. Surrender to it.”

The voltage imprisoned inside me sizzles through my spine, my legs, my toes. It makes me see stars, filling me with indescribable rapture as the orgasms hit, one after the other, tearing me asunder.

The lightning leaves my body one blissful heartbeat at a time, slithering like serpents returning to their nests.

And leaving me hollow.

I blink my eyes open, a tortured groan tearing out of my throat. Somehow, the chain orgasms only made me crave his cock more. My pussy clenches around emptiness, over and over again, searching for him, my whole body shivering for more.

“Has anyone else made you come that hard?” Seth asks huskily.

He already knows the answer, and his smug grin adds insult to injury.

The game of cat-and-mouse we’ve been playing the last few days has deepened the emptiness I carry with me, and his Storm touch wrenched every nerve ending to the surface. I desperately need him to fill the void inside me. Even if it costs me what’s left of my pride and self-respect.

“What was that ? Gods! You’re so—” I fight to catch my breath and try to sit up, but Seth drags his finger over my darkest hole again, dipping in, the ring of muscles tightening.

It’s a most intimate place, and I almost come again at the unfamiliar invasion.

His cock would never fit in there, but maybe…

I relax and wiggle my ass to take his finger deeper, the leftover ache soothed by what he’s doing.

He grins, stretching me wider, pushing deeper. “You’re so fucking hot for it. Now, answer me.”

“No,” I begrudgingly admit. “No one.”

He gives a long, hard lick to my overly sensitive flesh. “See how good things can be between us? You were made for me, darling. Made to rule our kingdom while I serve you, and your greedy little cunt.”

“Blimey. Does your filthy mouth ever stop?”

I hate what he’s saying but love what he’s doing, and there’s no denying that.

Seth nuzzles my core like it’s his own personal playground, the fullness in my crotch returning full-force. “You love it. Now, come for me again, my queen. I need more of your honey.”

Another wave crests at his command, and I suck in air, taken by surprise. Pleasure rips into me, making me cry out in bliss and defeat. I don’t bother biting back my noises this time, singing his praise to the wind.

Seth drinks the gushing pleasure in. “Such a lovely taste.”

I grip his hair and tug. “Enough games. I need you to fuck me. Now.”

“Next time, I’ll fuck you long and hard until you can’t walk, but I need you on your feet today.”

“You think you can stop now?” I scoff, matching his grin.

“This demonstration was merely an argument in favor of dropping your no-sex rule. Consider it carefully.”

“Because that wasn’t sex?”

He just laughs, “Not strictly sex, no. I was merely training you for what comes next, so you can take more thunder in.”

The nerve— Wait. More?

I rake my nails over his erection. If it was angry before, it’s seething now. Pre-cum drips along the side, right up to his balls. “You can’t stop now. You think you can, but unless you want to knock on Deiltine’s door with cum leaking into your breeches, you’ll give me what I want.”

He moans as I wrap my hand around his shaft, the raised veins pulsing with blood, signaling how excited and vulnerable he really is.

“You probably won’t last a second, not without training , but that’s okay.”

His cock is perfect. Smooth, large, and long, with a few dark freckles over the glistening crown. I run my fingers over the slit in the middle, and spread the bead of moisture there across the head.

His hips jerk forward and into my hand. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“Shut your beautiful mouth and fuck me, pretty boy.”

He laughs at that, the sound low and ominous. “At your command, my queen.” He works both my legs over one shoulder, and kisses my ankle, positioning himself.

The length of him glides over my lips, from tip to root and back again a few times, the hard ridge pressing down on my clit without entering me.

The cheater is trying to last longer.

I shift my hips to meet his next thrust, and his girth stretches my entrance, his crown dipping in.

“Oh, fucking hells,” he breathes.

Then he finally, finally slams all the way inside me. He’s hard as stone, throbbing in a devastating rhythm, and I moan at the violence of the thrust. Yes.

He’s talking a good talk, but he’s wild with lust, his balls tight in their sack, abs clenched, teeth grounding together, soul in pieces.

I don’t need my magic to know his heart belongs to me in that moment.

It shines like the fucking sun, almost blinding.

I’ve never felt more powerful—or vulnerable—all at once.

I’ve tried to dismiss his attraction to me as nothing more than desire or infatuation, but whatever Seth feels for me, it’s not small.

Not meaningless. And it’s not going to go away so easily.

Seth hisses. “Fuck. What magic is this?”

“What? You’re not the only one with a special talent. Tell me how it feels.” I dip a finger inside my mouth and suck on it.

“I can feel your walls pulsing, your heart beating, the clench of your puckered hole… I can feel the back of your throat against my crown without ever entering your mouth?—”

He moves in and out of me, stretching me in all the right ways.

“I’m impressed, other men?—”

He bites the soft skin of my calf and bands an arm around my thighs to shut me up. “Stop talking about other men. You’re mine.”

“Not yet.”

“But you will be my wife, queen of my heart. And I will kneel for you in public, while you kneel for me in the dark.”

He’s lost his grip on his magic, his moves, his sanity, enduring one more thrust before he surrenders.

A frustrated groan tears out of him, his hot seed spilling inside me, filling me, soothing me.

I grin, feeding from it, my inner walls quaking around his cock and holding it there until I’ve milked every drop.

Until I’ve absorbed his seed, feeling satiated for the first time in a long time.

Seth slips out and searches for his cum, testing my pussy but finding no moisture there. “What the— That’s a devious trick.”

I spring to my feet and grab my tunic off the drying line. “Says the guy who used my body as a lightning rod.”

Seth chases after me, scurrying to the center of the cavern with his arms braced over his head. “How did you do that? What does it mean? Could you be pregnant from this?”

I pull the dry tunic over my head, and it shimmies past my ass. “Calm down. Do you need a calendar? Or a knock on the head? I’m a Spring Fae, I won’t be fertile until Beltane. Beltane is this major Spring holiday?—”

“I remember what Beltane is, thank you.” Seth snaps his pants off the line. “Gods, you’re so hostile when you want to be.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

It’s almost impossible to reconcile his intensity in bed with his childishness in life, and just like that, we’re back to quarrelling.

“I thought we’d worked past that,” he says, the disappointment and judgement in his tone palpable.

I pull out fresh socks and underwear, feeding the little ball of arousal-soaked lace to the dying fire, averting my gaze. “Sex is sex, Seth. It’s a basic need we have. It doesn’t mean anything more.” I snuff out the urge to add something to soften the blow.

Long seconds pass before he nods, turning his full attention to his clothes. “Duly noted.”

I clench my teeth until the meteoric flare of guilt passes, and force a deep breath down my lungs.

Now that the haze of pleasure has lifted, a terrible bout of anxiety blossoms at the pit of my stomach.

A sore of weakness and betrayal. I let myself down.

But sex doesn’t have to mean anything more, and now that I’m no longer starving after months of celibacy, no longer hypnotized by the novelty of Seth’s body, I won’t let it happen again.

I sit on a rock to lace up my boots, pleasantly surprised that his wind managed to dry them through, while Seth repacks his climbing gear neatly into his backpack.

“It’s almost dawn,” he says, his voice tight.

I dismiss the tremor in it, reasoning that my comment—my attitude and my refusal to fawn over him like he probably expected—must’ve bruised his pride. Nothing more.

“We’re about an hour from the city. Only Storm Fae are allowed in, which means we’ll have to change our appearance. People around here aren’t used to folks like us,” he says.

I fail to mask my surprise. “Are you saying Storm Fae can’t be dark-skinned?”

“No, I’m saying we can’t show up at the gate looking like Devi Eros and Seth Devine. We have to look normal .”

I chew the insides of my cheeks, unable to mask a wince.

“Is there a problem?” he asks.

I can’t use my magic to do my hair, let alone glamor myself to look ugly and pale. I rake a hand through my loose braids, wondering how to phrase it. “I don’t like the idea of passing as someone else. Sara gave us black, hooded tunics for a reason. We’ll be fine.”

“Fine?” Seth snorts, shaking his head. “Okay, the way I see it, we can argue about this for hours, or you can admit outright that you can’t use your magic, and I’ll draw a few glamor runes on your body to take care of it for you.”

“Have you lost your mind, comrade?”

He’s right, but hell if I’m going to admit it. It’s bad enough that I let him touch me.

He puts on his best condescending smirk. “Don’t bother, I know I’m right. You used your light magic briefly in the sceawere to fight the wolf, but not once since. You’re holding back your bite of power like it’s some kind of disease. And Elio slipped you an end-all blade to defend yourself.”

My jaw drops. “You pat me down in the sleigh while I was sleeping?”

“By accident. The hard shell of a dragonbone sheath isn’t exactly discreet. Why would the great Devi Eros need a weapon like that unless she was otherwise defenseless—or hired to kill someone?” His eyes narrow, studying me.

He’s treating this like it’s an either-or situation. Either I can’t use my magic, or I’ve been hired by the crowns to carry out an assassination. The only question is: which one do I admit to?

“Alright,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I can’t use my magic. Not outside the sceawere.”

A full-blown frown spreads across his features. “Why? Does it have anything to do with that strange buzzing sound I heard back in Inverness?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“We’re traveling through the most dangerous Faerie province undercover,” he says, pulling a small vial of ink and a fine paintbrush from his bag. “I think it is my business.”

As if I’m going to give him any more power over me after the cave sex debacle. Never. I need to establish those boundaries I’ve been daydreaming about, and soon.

“What happens if we’re caught sneaking into the city?” I ask.

He shrugs and dips the brush into the ink. “We’ll be taken straight to the Warden of Lightning Point.”

“Is he an enemy?”

“Oh no. My uncle is not so bad, for a Storm Lord.”

Seth traces a delicate rune along the curve of my ear. The gentle tickle of the brush raises goosebumps all over.

“Then why don’t we ask him for help? He must control the access to the obsidian passage,” I say.

“My uncle is unfailingly loyal to the crown, so we have to assume he’s now under Luther’s command,”

“That’s not the reason.”

“The Warden isn’t the problem,” Seth murmurs, his eyes flicking to mine, “but his sons… they hate me. It’ll be better for all of us if we don’t cross their paths.”

“Why do they hate you?”

He grins. “Oh, because I’m a bastard who dishonored my family name. That, and the other thing. But don’t worry, I have other friends here that can help us.”

I raise a brow. “What other thing ?”

His brush hovers in mid-air near my throat for a moment, before he grins. “To quote you: it’s none of your business.”

I grit my teeth as he finishes the last rune. The faint shimmer of magic settles on my skin, a subtle glamor taking shape.

Seth steps back to admire his work. “There. Now you look perfectly ordinary.”

I square my shoulders, a bitter taste stuck at the back of my mouth.

Seth draws a similar series of runes on himself. “Dragonflies—common Storm Fae—are pretty traditional when it comes to gender roles. The only women allowed in Deiltine are the wives of technicians, machinists, and engineers. So play it docile and quiet, alright?”

He throws his bag over his shoulder, all packed up and ready to go.

I huff at his last-minute instructions. “You mean dutiful wives for cooking and cleaning and wild prostitutes for the brothels, right? I’ve heard about this place.”

He shrugs. “Many workers are still single, that’s true. Would you rather pass as a prostitute?”

“Playing the role of your quiet, dutiful wife is my literal worst nightmare.”

“Ouch. I’m happy to go with the alternative, if you prefer.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’d enjoy that.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I might. Now, all we have to do is wake Percy.” His gaze flies to the ceiling, searching for the nook Percy slept in.

I grin at the idiocy of his delusional comment. “Be realistic, pretty boy. We woke him up ages ago. He’s waiting for us outside.”