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Laurel

The witch and the fae fell madly in love, despite all the warnings about what might happen if they gave in to the bond fate made for them. The Mages, that ancient sect of ichor-worshipping fae, were displeased by the power the witch and the fae could command once they were united. It launched a war that would change the very fabric of the world for millennia.

Unknown Story, Unknown Origin

I aerstep us back to the suite at the estate, and a feral energy consumes us both. His hands explore every inch of my body as he kisses me with a fierceness that makes me moan, a low and humming noise from the back of my throat. The sound causes him to take my face in his hands and angle me to deepen the kiss. I don’t know where one of us begins and the other ends, our bodies are so intertwined with one another.

“Laurel,” he groans between kisses. I only pull him closer, unwilling to break the current of energy thrumming between us. After months of holding back, I finally allow myself to touch him, unrestricted, and I can’t stop now that I’ve opened that flood of need. My hands explore every hard line of his muscles, noticing the way he flexes under my touch. He pulls back from me and gives me one of those classic Thorne grins, dimple exposed, and I can’t keep my lips from kissing that tantalizing spot where his cheek hollows out. His resulting moan is reverent, and his hands take their time as they smooth up and down the curve of my waist.

When his hands finally still, they grip my hips firmly, not hurting but giving me the delicious feel that I’m possessed by him. I hum my satisfaction against his mouth, and he only grips me tighter, fingers digging into my love handles. I need to see more of him, need to explore every inch of his hard body.

Tentatively, I grab the bottom of his tunic and break our kiss to look up at him, a question in my eyes. The burning inferno that is his expression tells me I can do whatever I want, but I wait for him to nod. I slowly inch his shirt up his chest, hungrily taking in his tanned and toned stomach. When I reach his collarbone, he takes his hands off me for the briefest of moments to rip the shirt from his body, but I whimper at the loss of his touch. His resulting smirk tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking and that he likes it. He drinks me in hungrily with his eyes.

“Your turn, witchling. Take off your clothes.” The primal demand in his voice makes my skin prickle and my thighs clench together, but we haven’t spent months delighting in the game of catch and release with one another for me to give in so easily. I give him my best haughty expression, pure mirth in my eyes.

“I don’t take orders from princes. I’m a Queen .” His eyes darken with need.

“You wicked little thing,” he says slowly as his lips spread wide in a grin. “Witchling, please take off your clothes.” I shiver at the way he says witchling , deep in his throat. But I only shrug, like I’m considering his request. He grips my waist again and hauls me to him, devouring my mouth with another breathtaking kiss. When he breaks the kiss and I whimper, he gives me a challenging look that says he thinks he’s won this round, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction. At least not without a little more torture.

“I am feeling rather warm.” I give him my best impression of a flirty Thorne wink, and it makes him chuckle as he cups his hands on my ass. I untangle myself from him, then slowly ease my leggings down, then my undergarments, never taking my eyes from his. My agonizing pace is intended to taunt him, and it works, if his feathering jaw is any sign. My tunic is long and covers most of my delicate parts, which makes Thorne growl in frustration. He tries to pick up the lacy fabric of my undergarments, but I will them out of existence the moment his hands clasp around them, earning me another growl.

I turn my back on him to walk to the bar cart in the corner, emphasizing my swaying hips with each step. I intend to pour myself a glass of wine, but within seconds firm but gentle hands have me by the waist, spinning me so that I have to look into his pupil-blown eyes. He kisses up the column of my throat, moaning with each press of those full lips to my now-glistening skin. Just like in the hot spring, he weaves his fingers through my hair so he can pull my head to the side and lean down to whisper in my ear.

“I like you teasing me. But just know, witchling, that I can give as good as I take .” A delicious warmth crawls up my body, and I close my eyes with a small sigh. With that, he releases me, backing himself up a few paces and staring me down with a smirk. My body aches for his touch, and he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

Keeping my gaze firmly on his, I delicately unlace the tie at the top of my tunic, exposing a small bit of cleavage. Then I sweep my hair off my neck and arch my back in the movement, knowing exactly what it does to my neckline. My fingers graze delicately over the hem, about to tease him more, but Thorne’s impatience gets the better of him. In an instant, he’s in front of me. He rips the tunic and the bandeau underneath straight down the middle, exposing all of me in seconds. A noise that’s half yelp, half moan escapes me, but Thorne’s lips crush mine in an all-consuming kiss, stifling the sound. He kneads both of my breasts while I run my hands across his smooth, hard chest. When we break apart again, I’m about to make a biting comment about how I won, but his words still me.

“Aethers, Laurel, you’re perfect,” he whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Suddenly, the game we’re playing is over, and only pure, raw need remains. The small of my back presses against a wall as Thorne leans over me, but I’m not exactly sure how we got there. Did I aerstep us without realizing it ? But then Thorne is kissing my neck and my collarbone, and I don’t care about anything except the feel of his firm body against mine. My mate . My mate . My mate .

He cups my ass, lifting me, and I wrap my legs around him. I’m completely naked, but the fabric of his pants blocks the friction I desperately crave. He growls my name, and it sends a wave of hot, slick pleasure shooting across my skin. If I wasn’t already wet for him, I would be with the deep and longing way his voice comes out. Pinning me between the wall and his body, he brings both of his hands to my breasts, giving them a firm squeeze that melts my insides.

“I could fuck you for a century and I wouldn’t tire of these,” he groans, sucking one nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue across the hardened peak. I let out a deep sigh of pleasure. He squeezes my other nipple between his fingers in response, and the combination of pain and pleasure lights me up. Literally. My body glows with a soft radiance that I’ve never experienced with another lover. I’ve never had this happen to me at all. My shocked expression quickly turns to lust once more as Thorne growls deeply, the vibration against my nipple sending a fresh wave of need racing through my body. “You’re glowing,” he whispers, bringing his forehead to mine.

“I don’t know what this is,” I admit. He only murmurs as he lavishes kisses up and down my neck once again.

“I don’t care what it is,” he says between brushes of his lips. “You look like a goddess.” In another instant we’re at the sofa, but I’ve lost track of what my magic is doing or not doing. Thorne sets me down gently on the cushion, then splays my legs wide with his large hands. He stares at the apex of my thighs with a hungry gleam in his eyes, like he can’t wait to devour me. “You’re so fucking wet for me, witchling,” he murmurs. I tremble under his lust-filled gaze, suddenly self-conscious. I cover my breasts with my hands and slowly bring my knees together, but Thorne uses a rope of light to bind my wrists and pull them above my head like he did that day on the moors. He forces my knees open with his palms, laying me bare. When he speaks, his voice is so gentle it makes something inside of me crack open even wider, heart aching at the tenderness.

“I promised you I wouldn’t take you until you were sure about us, sure about the bond. We can still walk away, Laurel. I want to fuck you with my mouth so bad it’s consuming me, but I won’t. I’ll help you dress, then I’ll go back to that separate room you had prepared for me. It doesn’t matter that you’ve magically accepted the mating bond. If you desire it, we can continue our slow courting. I’ll wait however long you want to take this next step. Just say the word.”

Aethers, this male. I have no hesitation. Not anymore, not after telling him the things I’ve been afraid to tell anyone else for three centuries. His acceptance of those deeply-buried secrets has removed any lingering doubt.

“I want you. I want us . I want to be fucked by my mate, ” I say with my aether-voice, commanding him to take me. He lets out a feral noise that’s half moan and half feral howl.

“Then you better use all that power of yours to conceal the noises coming from this room and set up a protective barrier, because I don’t plan on stopping until you’re screaming my name with magic laced through your voice and losing control.” The words are a demand, and this time, I obey without hesitation. I close my eyes, sealing us in and locking the doors. Then I weave a barrier around both the room and the empty estate for good measure. With the right protections in place, I raise a brow, challenging him to make good on his promise.

He’s on me in an instant, dragging my hips down to the edge of the sofa and tugging my hands farther up above my head with his light. He gently strokes my inner thighs, but instead of pulling away when he gets to the apex like he has every other time, he lets his hands move where I want them to, stroking me in maddening circles. It’s barely the ghost of a touch, so soft that I push my hips farther into his hand, demanding more pressure. He only smirks at me. One finger, then two, pump in and out of me, and I squirm at the pressure, desperate for his fingers to return to that spot. Thorne only places a hand on my abdomen, locking me down so that I can’t move. He plans to take his time, and I’m not sure my body can wait.

Ribbons of light appear around us. They tease my nipples while Thorne uses his fingers, and the sensation is—I have no words to describe it. Needy whimpers escape me involuntarily as I buck my hips, but Thorne continues his gentle caress. It’s hard to remember to breathe with all the different ways he’s touching me. With no warning, ribbons and fingers swap places, and Thorne squeezes my breasts firmly with his warm hands while a beam of light teases between my legs, gently swirling and pulsing with pressure that is both punishing and delightful. His magic is playful, working me up only to back away right when it finally feels just right. I close my eyes at the sensations, but he barks my name, a commanding noise that has me tingling.

“Laurel. Keep those eyes on me .” My eyes snap open to find his locked intensely on my face. I haven’t seen this side of Thorne yet, haven’t seen the male who can command every movement I make with just a few words. There have been glimpses, mostly when he lets the mask of the Shining Prince slip and the true leader beneath shines through. But this is different, and I can’t get enough of it.

He removes his hands from my breasts for just an instant so he can bring his lips to mine in a demanding kiss that has me losing all sense of myself. My magic hums at the surface of my skin, desperate to be let out, but I somehow push it down and keep it at bay. Like he senses the last bit of control left in me, his fingers return to my clit, and he finally— finally —gives me the pressure I’m craving. He rubs me in hard and fast circles, and I cry out, my words incomprehensible. He only laughs, keeping that steady pace unwavering and his gaze firmly locked on my face. Somehow, his fingers know exactly the right rhythm and pressure I like, and heat builds low in my stomach.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he lowers his head and blows cool air across my sex, and I shudder in pleasure. He grins wide and feral, then lowers his mouth. The anticipation alone undoes me, and my hips thrust upward to meet his lips. He chuckles against me, and the vibration feels so good . But then, Thorne’s tongue licks up and around my sensitive spot in slow, sensual strokes, and I realize I didn’t know what good felt like.

“Aethers, you taste good,” he groans, but I can’t respond, too lost in the feel of him and taking the brief relief from his touch. “You can’t fathom the number of times I’ve dreamed about this, wondering what you would taste like. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” Without hesitating, Thorne lowers his head again, returning to that maddening swirl of his tongue. This is incredible, unbearably pleasurable. He licks one more long stroke before clamping down on my bud and sucking . An animalistic need courses through me, and I fist my hands in his hair and tug firmly.

“More,” I pant, my voice pleading, and another satisfied chuckle creates maddening vibrations that nearly send me over the cliff of my pleasure. I hold him to me, not letting him move his face away from between my legs, but I don’t think he minds as he gives me exactly what I asked for. Never taking his mouth from me, tendrils of light dance in and out of my center, filling and releasing me over and over again, all while he continues the perfect rhythm of his tongue.

The tension builds, coiling low in my gut. I writhe in pleasure, but Thorne just tightens the light restraints holding me in place, adding a band of light over my lap to keep me from moving my hips. It brings me even closer to the edge, unable to release the pressure that threatens to erupt out of me. I have the vague sense that the room has filled with a misty light, and Thorne chuckles when a vine crawls all the way across the room from the window and laps lazily at his abs. I’ve lost some of the control I had clamped around my magic, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“Thorne,” I moan, my words a plea for him to bring me over the edge.

“Come for me, witchling,” he growls. Then he lifts his head, and I let him, though I keep my hands in his hair. His mouth glistens with my wetness, and his full lips are vibrant red. “Come for me, Laurel. I want to watch that beautiful face of yours come undone.”

Ribbons of light hold me down but also stroke across all my sensitive areas. Thorne rubs circles on my clit with one hand, the other absentmindedly caressing every inch of my exposed body. The pressure builds and builds, and when he thrusts a wide ribbon of light inside of me and has it stroke the exact spot that I like, I erupt. With a scream, the tension crests in me, and every muscle in my body clenches in pleasure. The room shakes around us, and anything metal not bolted down hovers in the air. The mist in the room intensifies, and a bright light flashes. It’s not until the tension slowly releases from me that I realize the brightness was me, lighting up like a beacon in the night.

I take deep breaths, slowly trying to come back to myself after what may be the longest and most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. Thorne doesn’t release me, slowly stroking my clit once, twice, my entire body jerking at the pleasure. When I finally collapse against the sofa, every muscle in my body limp, he lets my hands drop to my side and sits next to me.

“I told you it would electrifying,” he says with a smirk and a wink.