Page 58 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen (Curse of the Fae #4)

Catacombs

DEVI

S eth carries me out of the bathtub bridal style and spreads me down on the bed. The way he stares down at me, like I’m the most precious treasure he’s ever claimed, lights an inferno in my belly. His kisses are tender. His bites are possessive. Together, they wreck me in the best way.

He treats me like I’m his queen—yet makes it clear my body is his to worship, to unravel, to ruin with pleasure. It’s hot as hells.

He massages my breasts, rolling and teasing the peaks until I arch into his hands.

“You’re obsessed with them,” I tease.

“With good reason.” He chuckles, but it comes out low and husky, like he’s too busy imagining how to make me scream his name to bother joking. His hands stroke my hips, slow and deliberate, before he flips me onto my stomach.

“Now, I want you on all fours, witch. I want to give that gorgeous ass of yours the attention it deserves.”

He was careful in the tub. He’s not careful now.

And gods, I could cry from the relief. His filthy mouth. His rough touch. That’s what I need. For him to fuck the trauma out of me.

I crawl to my hands and knees, heat pooling along my ribs.

Seth kisses a fiery path down my spine, hovering above me, caressing every inch—my sides, my arms, my shoulder blades—before turning his attention to my rump.

His magic coats my skin like a hot towel, warm to the point of near pain.

He tests the limits of my patience like some wicked deep-tissue masseur determined to make me beg for more.

Then he shifts to his knees, grips his length, and presses the head to my clit, then lines himself up with my soaked entrance.

“Do you want my cock inside you?” he asks, pushing in an inch.

“Yes.”

“How much?”

I adjust my hips in response, taking him deeper, and we both groan.

His thunder scatters across my skin like vines crawling up to my front, circling my breasts, zapping my nipples before it slithers across my stomach to hit my clit. The sensation booms like fireworks exploding in my core, and a gush of arousal squirts out of me.

“That was fucking hot.” He gathers my mane in one hand and tugs. “Keep those palms nice and flat to the bed. I’m not going to go easy on you.”

He rushes all the way in, and I gasp.

He’s bigger and thicker than I remembered, the angle far more delectable. Primal.

He sets a delirious pace and keeps me right there on the edge, his thick cock hitting that impossibly needy spot inside me with every thrust. The roots of my hair tingle deliciously as he tugs and releases my hair in turn.

Then, he stops and spreads my arousal from front to back, gently teasing my dark hole with his thumb.

“I like what I like, witch, and I will have your beautiful ass.”

The crown of his cock presses against the tight ring, and I exhale, shaking in anticipation. He pushes his hips forward, forcing past the tight muscles there.

A burst of fire slithers up my spine, but Seth pauses, letting me adjust around his bursting-hard shaft. He’s too big, but the pain of the invasion soothes my aching heart. His thunder delicately sparks in my pussy, making me hum, my clit now throbbing, begging for mercy.

He kneads the flesh of my ass with both hands. “Relax your muscles. Yes, like that. Take it all.”

I suck in air as he pushes deeper, filling me in ways I never even dreamed of, like he’s claiming my soul at the same time. I cry out his name in praise, but he slips a finger inside my mouth, filling me further.

Another thrust—quicker, rougher—and a low grunt escapes him. “See, witch? See how much you love my cock?”

He sounds close to unraveling, and I grin, sucking on his finger, salt and soap lingering on my tongue.

“So fucking tight and greedy, squeezing my cock like that. I could spend an eternity inside you. I can’t wait to try your mouth.”

His hands tighten around my hips as he sets a slow, controlled pace. The thunder writhes against my skin. I feel it inside me, too—something swelling, stretching me wide, pulsing right where I need it. My nipples ache. My heart beats between my legs like it’s a live, desperate thing.

Seth purrs in satisfaction, his big hands keeping his thrusts impossibly precise, despite all my moaning and writhing.

“Come, darling. Let me see how high my dark angel can fly with my cock deep in her ass.”

That sentence alone sends me over the edge. My name vanishes. My pain, my grief—all of it recedes to the depths of my subconscious. I plummet into white-hot oblivion, my arms and legs quaking, my toes curling. I’m falling, my dark hole pulsing around his shaft, demanding every drop of his seed.

I see a whole sky full of stars. Galaxies.

He curses under his breath, riding out the high until my arms shake.

His eyes glow with mischief as he rolls me over and kisses me languidly, my walls still pulsing. He drags his hand down between us and rubs my clit with the rough pad of his thumb. Once, and I’m falling again. Just like that.

“Let’s count together. Two.” His brows knit together as I grip his shoulder to steady myself through the orgasm. “Tut-tut. Palms to the mattress, remember.”

He barely gives me time to recover before thunder surges through me again.

“Three.”

The soft duvet tears in my grip.

He gives my left breast a punishing lick. “Four.”

I scream, but he covers my mouth with his palm.

“Who’s the best lover you’ve ever had?” he asks, all smiles.

“You, damn bastard. Must we do this every time?” I mumble.

His mouth opens, lips forming an F as though he’s about to send me spinning for the fifth time. My knuckles flex. My toes curl.

“Until I tire of hearing it,” he says instead. He shifts over me, pinning me to the mattress, until his cock teases my entrance. It’s rock-hard again. “Five.”

He feeds me his cock inch by inch, and I quake all over.

The duvet is wrecked. My mind is wrecked. Seth’s special brand of dual magic has forever ruined me for other men.

He’s the only thing grounding me to this earth, thrusting all the way in and out, over and over again, but excruciatingly slowly. He praises every gush like his favorite fetish is watching my juices drip from his cock before pushing back in.

By the end, he doesn’t even have to move. My body obeys the slow drawl of his voice, clenching and pulsing until I’m begging for mercy. Until I’m drunk on a string of orgasms I’ve completely lost count of. Until he’s all but painted me with his seed.

Everywhere but inside, where I could absorb it, no, he revels in the sight of me covered in ropes of his cum.

I’m gasping for breath by the time he’s done, and yet I feel like I could cry from the loss.

I’m usually the kind of gal who sends a man packing after I’ve had my share, but I find myself already daydreaming about our next time—about how it’ll feel when he uses my mouth and comes deep in my throat. How much I’ll enjoy the next round.

“Fuck, you really know how to create an addiction.”

He smacks a kiss on my belly button. “I love you, witch.”

I curl into his side and sigh, hiding my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling him deep.

He smells like soap and musk—and a new scent we’ve made together.

He traces his fingers up and down my spine.

I snuggle closer and pray he’ll be patient enough to stay—because I can’t say it yet.

But I feel it. I’m terrified by how much.

I wake up to an awfully cold and empty bed and slip on the fitted black clothes I find in a drawer and fix my hair as much as I can without using magic. Stopping by the hearth, I press a quick kiss to Percy’s shroud and tiptoe out of the guest quarters to explore.

The tower of the fortress is only narrow at the top five floors, and it begins to widen as I descend.

When I reach the first broader level, two large double doors stand wide open.

I expected guards—or Willow herself—to stop me from wandering alone through the castle, but I enter the bibliotheca without a hitch.

The long, diamond-shaped windows offer an unobstructed view of the bay below, where workers bustle along the docks, loading crates into ships. I stride deeper into the room.

At the heart of the stacks, where tables and desks once stood, dozens upon dozens of spinning wheels—of every size, style, and material—are arranged in neat rows.

The original furniture has been shoved into a corner and stacked to make room for the map.

Only one table remains upright, cluttered with a thick, geodesic Shadow mask, electrodes, rods, fluxes, woodcarving tools, and transparent cases filled with materials and fine wires.

I graze the edges of the mask, the likes of which I’ve never seen. Shadow masks are usually thin and elegant, molded by shadows themselves, but this looks like a piece of metal that was beaten to submission by a hammer. In fact, many of the materials and instruments are new to me.

This must be where Luther and Willow tinker with their jewels.

They use metal to mount the gems and fuse them to their bodies, which demands some serious craftsmanship and expertise.

But some of the gear can’t be explained by that alone.

A few half-finished spindles lie in a separate box, while one sits at the center of the worktable, inlaid with amethysts and gold.

“Lady Eros. I see you’ve found my collection.” Luther greets me as he enters.

He says the title with a hint of impertinence, like he’s above such things but plays the game for my benefit. There’s no anger or suspicion in his tone for finding me away from my bedroom.

“Just call me Devi.”

“Alright, Devi.”

Against all odds, I’m not a prisoner, though I didn’t see any mirror, so there’s nowhere to go.

I brace my hands on my hips, contemplating his rather peculiar collection of spinning wheels. “Seth told me you want to vanquish death?” I say, keeping my voice from sounding too judgmental or doubtful.