Page 19

Chapter nineteen

Jade

F lyn looks so blissed out. He is on his back, his legs on my shoulders. I’m thrusting into him. My cock is encased by his tight, wonderful heat. His eyes are closed, head tipped back. Cheeks flushed and his jaw slack with pleasure.

I am so very thankful to all the deities that Flyn was able to find some more condoms in one of his drawers. Three were nowhere near enough. Having to stop would have killed me. I would have missed out on this, the way he looks right now.

He looks fucking beautiful. I’ve never been inspired to create art before, but he may well be my muse.

I can easily see myself spending the next fifty years striving to capture the way he looks right now.

I could carve him in marble. Recreate him in paint.

Weave him into a song. But I know I could never do him justice.

He moans weakly and begins to tremble all over. I think he is about to orgasm again. I keep thrusting into him. His back arches. His body convulses. He screams silently as his peak consumes him.

He clenches around my cock so tightly that it throws me into my own orgasm and we cum together in blissful synchronicity.

He draws in a giant shuddering breath, mumbles something about my impressive stamina, and then falls all floppy.

Hastily, I pull out.

“Flyn? ”

His eyelids twitch, but that’s it. I force a gulp past my frantically beating heart. Flyn’s just asleep. He has to be. He is human, and they get tired easily.

I stare at his sprawled, loose-limbed form while my stomach twists in knots.

In the harem, Ritchie, or his friends, would fuck me once or twice.

But they might have then moved onto one of the other boys.

I never kept track. I have no idea what amount of sex is normal for a human in one night.

Oh sweet goddess! I’m such a fool! This really is something I should have looked up.

Too late for that, and there is no time for regret right now. I need to find out if Flyn is okay. He might need a doctor, or an ambulance. Or, he could be perfectly fine, and I’m overreacting.

I need to check. I need to know for sure.

But how do I do that? Pink won’t know. His husband is a human like him. Magic doesn’t give either of them extra stamina, as far as I know. If it does, they are evenly matched.

Blue is a paranormal with a fully human mate. But he is asexual. I doubt he has ever fucked Sammy until he passed out.

Brodie and Carter are both human, but they are also strong, well-built, former enforcers who have always known about the paranormal world. They would have always been aware of their own limits in comparison to their lovers’ vitality.

As for Gray and Mal, neither of them are human. Or ever have been.

No, there is only one person who can help me.

I run into the bathroom, deal with the condom and then tear around Flyn’s apartment, looking for my jeans. I find them flung on the back of the sofa. Thankfully, my phone is still in the back pocket.

I need to call Ned. Even though he hates me. He is the only person who can help. He was a human. Then he slept around a lot once he was a vampire. And now he has a human boyfriend. A human boyfriend who knew nothing about the paranormal world when they first got together .

Ned answers on the third ring, even though it is the middle of the night.

“Jade, what’s wrong?”

The concern in his voice makes me want to weep. It is far more than I deserve.

“Hopefully nothing,” I blurt. “But Flyn has passed out after we had a lot of sex and I don’t know if he is okay!”

“How much sex?”

My mind whirls. Memories spin. I try to count orgasms. “... Seven, I think.”

Ned whistles down the phone. “Damn, kid, that’s impressive. In the future, try to keep it to two or three, otherwise he’ll figure out you aren’t human.”

“Okay,” I agree quickly.

I hear soft rustling down the phone and I can picture Ned slipping out of his bed and padding into the next room so he doesn’t wake Morgan.

“Is Flyn breathing?” Ned asks.

“Yes!” I knew enough to look for that. “Deep, even breaths. Like he is sleeping.”

“Alright, that sounds promising. What about his color?”

I run back to the bedroom. Flyn hasn’t moved since I left him. He still looks exactly the same.

“Flushed,” I tell Ned.

“That’s good. Sounds like everything is just fine, kid. You’ve simply tired him out.”

I draw in a big shaky breath. And then another. “What if I’ve hurt him… inside?”

The silence is deafening. Full of shock and surprise.

“You topped?”

I’m not insulted. My fey ancestry definitely makes me look like a twink, the type of man who would love to bottom. It is certainly what Ritchie wanted me for .

I only recently discovered my preference myself. Nevertheless, Flyn somehow knew. He figured it out long before I did. But I highly doubt anyone else will ever guess, unless I tell them.

“Yes,” I whisper down the phone. “All seven times,” I add, because that is probably important information.

“Damn, when you said seven times I thought you meant… nevermind.” There is a brief pause. I can almost hear Ned pulling himself together. “Did you open him up well first? Use lots of lube?”

“Yes and yes,” I answer. “But… um… I was quite… vigorous. I got carried away and he seemed to be really enjoying it, which spurred me on.”

My insides curl. This feels all kinds of wrong. I shouldn’t be sharing such intimate details about Flyn. But I have to make sure he is okay.

Ned breathes deeply. “You should check. Have a look… down there.”

I swallow. “He’s out cold. Isn’t that a bit violating?”

“It’s better than letting him bleed to death.”

My heart crashes against my ribcage. I nestle the phone between my cheek and my shoulder. With my newly freed hands, I maneuver Flyn’s inert body until I can clearly see his hole.

It’s pink and puffy, and despite my concern, the sight of it sends a bolt of arousal lancing through me.

“It… it looks good,” I say softly.

Oh sweet goddess, any other word would have been a better choice. Undamaged. Healthy. Anything but what just came out of my mouth.

“Any blood? Any sign of prolapse?”

My lungs seize at the thought I could have hurt Flyn that badly. I’m going to be so, so, gentle next time. So careful, that he is going to whine about it.

“No,” I wheeze weakly.

“Great! You’ve just exhausted him. ”

“What do I do?”

“Nothing. Let him sleep, and when he wakes up, make sure he drinks water.”

“Okay. Water. Got it.” I suck in a breath. “Thank you Ned. Sorry I woke you. Sorry for… everything.”

“It’s all good, kid. This is what friends are for.”

The line goes dead and I dump my phone on the bedside table. From his corner of the room, Reginold the stuffed frog stares at me like he knows exactly how much of a fuck up I am.

I glare back at the fairground toy. I know exactly what I am. I don’t need confirmation from anyone else.

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. Now what? There is no way in hell I’m going to be able to sleep. I guess I could shower, get dressed and then tidy the apartment until it’s time to make Flyn breakfast.

It’s as good a plan as any, I suppose. And it’s not as if anything else is coming to mind. So I take a deep breath and head for the shower.

F ive hours later and I’m standing over Flyn as his eyes flutter open. I watch intently as he focuses and finds my gaze. As soon as he sees me, a huge, soppy grin spreads over his face.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

He wriggles a bit and then sighs, “Fucked out.”

“In a good way?” I blurt.

His grin deepens. “The best way, baby. The very best way.”

I thrust the first of the two glasses I have ready at him. “Drink!”

He raises an eyebrow, but shuffles into a semi-sitting position. I watch his face closely, but I don’t see any signs of pain.

He takes the glass and gulps it down. I take the empty one and thrust the second glass into his fingers. Both his eyebrows rise this time .

“Yes, daddy,” he says with a wink.

I nearly grunt as his joking words hit me somewhere, deep, deep inside. Oh my. I think I liked that. A lot. But that’s something to unravel another time. Right now, I need to take care of Flyn.

“I made breakfast,” I say.

Flyn’s blue eyes light up.

“After you’ve eaten, I will help you shower.”

I’ve been Googling while he has been sleeping. I’ve learned that it is called aftercare. Hydration and making sure his blood sugar levels are good is important. After that, being clean will make him feel more comfortable.

Flyn chuckles. A warm sound full of mirth and joy. “I could get used to this.”

“Good,” I say before I can stop myself.

He throws off the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed. As he stands, he winces. My hand shoots out to grab his elbow.

He flashes me another smile. “I’m fine. Baby, I really am.”

My heart does a cartwheel. Baby. He started calling me that last night, and it doesn’t seem like he is going to stop. It’s another wonderful thing that I’m not worthy of.

His fingers trace my jawline all the way down until he cups my chin. “You didn’t hurt me.”

His blue eyes are intense. Somber. Full of meaning. Of understanding. He doesn’t know what I am, but he knows I was in a harem. He understands that I was used. He thinks that is why I’m so concerned. He has come to the conclusion that I believe bottoming is awful and traumatic.

He’s not wrong. It is a root cause of a lot of my panic.

And here he is. Standing here. Seeing so much of me. Understanding, knowing, but not judging. For some unfathomable reason, he doesn’t think I’m pathetic or disgusting. He knows I was a sex slave, he’s not pretending it never happened.

Yet, miraculously, when he looks into my eyes, all he sees is me.