Tithed to the Fae: Fae Mates - Book 1 Page 14

Tamsin reached up, her fingertips hovering over his skin. She traced the outer curve of his left eye, following the line of his faemarks, not quite making contact. The faint heat of her body seared him to the bone.

  “Your eyes are beautiful, Cuan.” Her hand curved around the back of his neck. “And you are not a beast.”

  She pulled him down to her mouth. For an instant, he froze, in sheer disbelief—but then her tongue slipped between his lips, and all doubt fled.

  There was no pity in that kiss. The fierce press of her body against his, the strength in her grip on the back of his neck, the hungry way she thrust into his mouth…none of it could be feigned.

  She desired him.

  She had seen his true self…and she still desired him.

  Just as he was.

  Her kiss was like the blessing of a goddess. Benediction and forgiveness and salvation all at once, a white-hot rush of fire through his veins. He would have fallen on his knees at her feet, except that he was too busy kissing her back, as fiercely and frantically as she was him.

  Someone was growling. It wasn’t until Tamsin purred in response that he realized the low, feral sound came from his own throat. He didn’t care. Not with Tamsin arcing in his arms, tilting back her head to offer him the long, maddening line of her neck.

  “Cuan,” she gasped as he kissed his way down. “Cuan, yes!”

  His lips brushed over the line of leather around her throat, and a sharp jolt struck through him. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it penetrated the haze of his lust. He jerked in reflex, recoiling.

  “Oh!” Tamsin let go of his neck, her hands flying to her own. “I’m so sorry, I forgot about the iron. Hang on, I’ll take it off.”

  “No.” He caught her hands, lacing his fingers through hers. “Leave it on.”

  “But it’ll—ah!” Tamsin caught her breath in a very gratifying gasp as his teeth brushed her skin again. “Won’t it hurt you?”

  “The iron is plated in gold on this side. I can’t touch it directly.” He backed her up against the wall, never lifting his mouth from the tender place behind her ear. “Keep it on. So you know this is real.”

  She melted into him, twining her arms around his neck once more. Her hands slipped under the collar of his tunic. A much more intense—and pleasurable—jolt lanced down his spine as her fingers brushed over the faemarks on his shoulders.

  A low groan escaped him. Tamsin paused, then, very deliberately, raked her fingernails down the spiraling lines again. Another savage snarl spilled from his throat. His hips bucked involuntarily.

  Tamsin made a small, smug sound. “You’re glowing.”

  “Be glad that is all,” he gasped into the hollow of her shoulder.

  He was already harder than he’d ever been in his life. The light from his faemarks was bright enough to cast Tamsin’s shadow into sharp relief on the wall behind her. When she flexed her back a little, grinding against him, he was nearly undone then and there.

  “Have mercy, woman.” He had to grab for her hips, holding her away for a moment. “At least give me a chance to uphold my honor.”

  Tamsin cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what faeries call it?”

  “I do not know how things are done among humans.” He relaxed his grip, brushing his palms up the delicious curves of her waist. “But for fae men, it is a matter of pride to satisfy one’s partner first.”

  He cupped her breast, and Tamsin sucked in her breath, her eyes going dark and hazy. She arced into his touch, filling his palm with sweet, maddening softness. Bending his head, he found the hard nub of her nipple. He fastened his mouth over it, suckling through her shirt, relishing every moan of pleasure.

  “Wait,” Tamsin gasped.

  He released her instantly, backing off—but she seized his hair before he could step away. She cast him an exasperated glare.

  “I didn’t mean stop.” She hesitated, worry clouding the desire in her eyes. “Unless…if we do this, does it mean we’re mated?”

  “No.”

  His voice sounded thick in his own ears, barely one step above a growl. He struggled for clarity, battling the red need pounding through his blood. He had to make sure she understood. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hesitant or fearful.

  “The mate bond cannot be formed accidentally,” he said. “We must wish to be joined, consciously and deliberately, with all our hearts.”

  And oh, I do, I do…

  He swallowed that futile longing. If pleasure was all that she would take from him, then he would give it, and gladly. No matter how much more he wished she would accept.

  Count yourself lucky for this much, and do not dwell on what cannot be.

  “We must both wish to be joined,” he said. “Mating requires us to exchange vows. The exact words are not important, but they must be spoken out loud, with sincere intent, in order to link our fates. Mere physical pleasure will not bind you to me, nor me to you. And…I understand what this is, that you are offering me. Not a promise, nor a pledge. Just a temporary grace, a moment of joy. I am—”

  He stumbled on I am content with that. Because it was too close to a lie. He was grateful, yes, and thankful, and awestruck.

  But not content.

  “It is more than I ever expected,” he said instead. “You have already given me the greatest gift imaginable. Thank you.”

  Her smile broke over her face like sunlight. She fumbled at her shirt. “We’re not done yet, big guy. Help me get this off.”

  He was only too happy to oblige. Buttons seemed far too complicated to handle in his current state of mind, so he simply grasped her blouse and pulled.

  The fabric parted. She wore some strange garment underneath, a kind of harness over her breasts. For the briefest moment, he wondered if she was carrying a hidden dagger strapped against her ribs—but then her soft belly pressed against him again, and he lost all interest in understanding her peculiar human clothing. His only concern was how to get it off, as fast as possible.

  Happily, her weapon-harness—if that was indeed what it was—turned out to be of atrocious quality. It shredded as easily as dry leaves. Her breasts spilled into his eager hands at last, fat and luscious, with nipples as dark and plump as ripe berries. He sank down to feast.

  “Cuan!” Tamsin’s hands fisted in his hair. “Cuan!”

  She was gloriously responsive. With every twitch and gasp, he learned what pleased her. Where to circle and where to flick; when to tease her with the lightest of breaths, and when to suck her deep into his mouth.

  She twisted in his grasp, one leg coming up to hook over his waist. Her pelvis ground against his thigh, demanding and urgent.

  Even with clothing between them, he could sense how wet and ripe she was. If she had been wearing skirts, he would have lifted them to lap at her sweet juices. Unfortunately, she was still clad in those peculiar stiff, dark blue human trousers. He hadn’t the faintest idea how to get those off, except perhaps with a blade.

  You cannot summon a sword now, idiot. Some tiny part of him that still retained an ounce of common sense was appalled. Not unless you wish to slay the mood.

  He could not spare the time to puzzle out how to strip her of the frustrating pants. Not with Tamsin clawing at his shoulders, needing release, now.

  He curved his hands under her gorgeous full buttocks, raising her higher. All those incredible curves, and yet she weighed nothing, nothing at all. He could have hoisted her to his shoulders and buried her face in her wet folds, if not for those cursed pants.

  Cuan was beginning to think that the absolute worst thing about the humans was their clothing.

  Still, the fabric was not so thick that he couldn’t make himself felt through it. Especially when he was as hard as iron, straining his own garment near to breaking point.

  He kept licking and sucking at her nipples as he angled her against his hardness. He thrust against her hidden sex, seeking the right spot.

  Her back arched, thighs clenching around his sides. St
ars burst behind his eyes as she ground against him. Every muscle in his body knotted tight, shaking with the effort of holding himself back from tumbling into his own release.

  It was worth it. She came undone at last, shrieking his name, and he had never heard sweeter music. Every helpless spasm of her body filled him with deep, fierce satisfaction. He held her steady as she writhed, never ceasing to tease and thrust. He coaxed out every last wave of pleasure, until she was limp and gasping in his arms.

  “Wow,” she whispered, shakily.

  The sentiment was clear, even if the word was unfamiliar.

  “Wow,” he echoed in agreement. He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “Wow indeed.”

  “Uh.” She dropped a hand to his groin, tracing the thick ridge of his straining shaft. His faemarks pulsed with white-hot fire at her touch. “But you haven’t…did you?”

  He caught her wrist, raising it to his lips. “No, though it was a nearer thing than I care to admit. You are a serious test of a man’s willpower, Tamsin. I must beg you to keep your hands to yourself a little longer.”

  “Why?” Her eyebrow quirked once more. “Hasn’t honor been satisfied?”

  “Oh no.” He scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. “Not yet. Not by a long way.”

  Chapter 18

  Tamsin was doubly glad that Cuan had decided to do the whole romantic-carry-to-the-bed thing.

  Firstly, because it was as sexy as hell.

  And second, she was pretty sure her legs had stopped working. It was, in fact, quite possible that they would never work again. Her thighs were still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm.

  And apparently, this party is just getting started.

  Cuan laid her down on the soft furs. He stayed standing, looming over her, gazing down as though appreciating some priceless work of art.

  “Give me a moment,” he murmured, voice catching. “I want to look at you.”

  Tamsin was only too happy for the pause. Not only for the chance to catch her breath—she was still panting as though she’d run a marathon—but for the opportunity to look at him in turn.

  And wow, is he ever worth looking at.

  Cuan’s glowing faemarks highlighted the broad expanse of his chest, the hard swells of his upper arms. The colors shifted in ever-changing hues of blue and green, bathing her in magical light.

  Intricate, twining marks ran over his hips, too, following the deep-cut V of his lower torso, disappearing under his wide belt. The luminous faemarks drew her eye to the impressive bulge straining the front of his leather trousers.

  He’s literally got neon signs pointing to the goods.

  Tamsin smothered a giggle at the thought. She was eye-to-eye with a man’s cock, after all. Laughing probably wouldn’t go down well.

  Although if his dick glows as well, I really am going to lose it.

  …What if faeries come glitter?

  “You are making a very odd expression,” Cuan rumbled.

  “Sorry,” Tamsin gasped, ribs aching with the effort of holding in laughter. “I don’t mean to ruin the mood. I just, um, thought something really inappropriate. And silly.”

  Don’t laugh, don’t laugh. Oh god. I think I’m going to rupture something.

  Cuan’s mouth curved in that slight, devastating crooked smile. He brushed his thumb over her lips.

  “Good,” he said. “I had not thought that you could be more beautiful, but it seems I was wrong. If I can fill you with mirth and joy, I am glad.”

  Tamsin gave up trying to hold back her grin. “Well…that’s not all I’d like to be filled with.”

  The amusement dancing in his golden eyes turned to something more feral. That heated, hungry look drove away the last of her giggles, leaving only a powerful, aching need.

  She caught her breath as he leaned down. His braced arms bracketed her head. Those burning, intent eyes filled her vision.

  “Tamsin.” His voice dropped to a deep, rasping growl that raised goosebumps across her skin. “I must ask you something.”

  “Anything,” she whispered, mouth dry with anticipation.

  He hooked a finger into the waistband of her jeans, tugging slightly. “Tell me how to remove this infernal garment. Please.”

  The plaintive look on his face had her choking back yet another whoop of laughter. Still chuckling, she wriggled, getting her hands between them so she could undo her fly.

  There was no graceful way to remove skinny jeans. Cuan, however, watched her contortions with eyes filled with fire. When she’d finally managed to yank herself free, he took the jeans from her, regarding them with a thoughtful, appraising expression.

  Then, with a single jerk, he tore them in half.

  “Cuan!”

  He dropped the shredded denim, looking totally unrepentant. “They thwarted me. I had to take my revenge.”

  Her retort dried in her throat as he crawled up the bed. He moved like some great stalking cat, muscles rolling smoothly under a glimmering aura of light.

  Cuan ran a finger along the silky edge of her panties. He made a deep hum of approval in the back of his throat. “Now these, I like.”

  She was already soaking wet, the satin fabric damp and clinging. She caught her breath as his fingers trailed lower, tickling her inner thigh. She spread her legs, pulse hammering…but he just skipped across to her other leg, tracing the other edge of her panties.

  “Cuan.” Her hips bucked, trying to get his hand where she needed it. “Please.”

  His golden eyes gleamed. He captured her mouth under his own, silencing her plea. His tongue thrust into her, strong and demanding, even as his rough fingertips continued to stroke and tease without ever quite reaching her aching sex.

  Just when she was seriously considering biting him out of sheer frustration, he slipped a finger under her panties. She was so on edge, that first light brush nearly had her levitating off the bed.

  Cuan made that deep, satisfied hum again. His hard weight pinned her down. She gasped into his glowing shoulder as his fingers dipped into her folds. He slicked himself in her juices, sliding upward.

  She thrashed, mewling helplessly, as his calloused fingertip found her swollen nub. He circled, experimentally at first, then more firmly as he found exactly the right rhythm.

  Heat throbbed in her core, gathering even more powerfully than before. There was nothing except him, his hot weight over her, his hand between her thighs.

  White ecstasy shook her. Just when she started to come down, he slid a thick finger inside her, pressing up. A fresh jolt of pleasure shot through her.

  “Cuan,” she gasped into his mouth. “Enough, I can’t—”

  He cut her off with another deep kiss.

  “You can,” he whispered. He worked another finger into her, making her clench at how good it felt. “Don’t hold yourself back. You can do more, Tamsin. Show me.”

  And she did, much to her surprise. In a shockingly short space of time she was lost again, gripping his thrusting fingers, pulsing around him.

  Cuan’s breath came in short, harsh gasps. His chest was beaded with sweat, the droplets glittering like tiny gems in the brilliant light of his faemarks.

  “Tamsin.” His voice shook, raw and hoarse. “Forgive me. I wish I could honor you as you deserve, but I cannot—cannot hold back much longer.”

  She stared at him. She was panting so hard that it took her a moment to form words.

  “Are you serious?” she got out at last. She clawed at his belt. “Fuck honor. Fuck me. Now.”

  His eyes lit up even brighter, shining like twin suns. Sliding off the bed, he jerked off his pants, a lot more gracefully than she’d managed to get rid of hers. She had a single moment to appreciate his magnificently taut backside, and then he was back, bracing himself on hands and knees above her.

  Okay, so he doesn’t glow down there, she just had time to note—and then his hard hands were on her thighs, spreading her wide. With a single fierce thrust, he slid into her.<
br />
  She’d thought herself wrung out, but the hard width of his cock proved her wrong. He filled her completely, in a way that even his clever fingers hadn’t been able to manage.

  And it was more than just the glorious sensation of being filled and stretched that had her back arcing off the bed, her fingers clawing at his back. It was him. The look on his face, the complete abandon in the way that he pounded into her. The way his eyes locked onto hers, seeing nothing else.

  Knowing that she was giving him that intense, overwhelming pleasure redoubled her own. She matched him thrust for thrust, in the grip of instinct. They moved in a rhythm as old and instinctive as breathing, climbing together to ever-greater heights.

  Cuan’s hand found hers, gripping hard. He reared up, head thrown back, every muscle in his powerful body going rigid.

  “Tamsin,” he gasped. “Tamsin!”

  His faemarks flared in a brilliant burst of electric-blue light. She felt him jerk deep within her, and it tipped her over the edge into a final, mind-shattering climax.

  When she drifted back to herself—after what felt like a long, long time—she found that it was dark. Cuan was a hot, heavy weight on top of her. His faemarks had gone out. She traced the massive curve of his shoulder, and only the faintest, firefly glimmer followed her fingertips.

  “Worth the wait?” she murmured.

  His breath tickled the side of her neck as he chuckled. “I believe the appropriate human phrase is: Wow.”

  He rolled off her, scooping her into his arms so that they ended up spooned together. Tamsin nestled her back against his broad chest, feeling totally content.

  He toyed with her hair, brushing it back from her face. His breath whispered against her skin again—but this time, it was a sigh.

  “This doesn’t change anything, does it,” he said quietly.

  It wasn’t a question.

  Her contentment fled, leaving behind nothing but a hollow, empty feeling in her chest. She stared out, away from him, seeing only darkness.

  “No,” she said, equally softly.

  He curled around her, saying nothing more.

  They lay together, hearts beating as one, holding each other. It was a long, long time before sleep claimed either of them.