I've never reached an orgasm this fast, not while touching myself or with any partner. I wouldn't have thought it possible.
My mother, the Sea Court, my bargains, the usurper, Tenebris. None of it matters in this precious moment where the world disappears. There's only me and him.
I sit up and turn to him. This time, he lets me. I climb over him, discarding our bed sheet. My hands rest on his taut, defined chest, and slide along it, caressing his beautiful skin. He's glorious. And mine. Mine, mine, mine. I will never get enough.
I'm done with games for now. I need him, and I don't let anything else matter. I fumble with the string closing his breeches and free him from his pants. My eyes stay fixed on him as I lower myself onto him, moving slowly, feeling every inch of him fill me up, expand me. Drusk grasps my hips and moves to sit up, but I push him back down on the bed. He drove me to the edge of madness—twice. It's my turn. His grip on me tightens, but he lets me lead. I undulate, rising and falling, dancing on him, taking more each time until he's inside me, to the hilt. I'm teasing us both, and soon I’ll need more, but the raw hunger in Drusk's eyes makes me want to keep the torture going, so I keep checking my pace, riding him so, so slowly. Each time he moves under me, thrusting deep or attempting to quicken the pace, I shush him and slow down further.
Then he's done. With a roar, Drusk pushes my hands off his chest, drags my legs toward him, and lifts them in the air under the knees, holding me hovered over him. Then, he takes me, hard, fast, punishingly, thrusts starting before the last is over. I can't think, I can hardly breathe. He's a wild beast unleashed, and I love every moment of it. I lose it. I lose it without warning, coming undone, and Drusk never stops his onslaught, pounding deep inside me while I collapse and lose my senses. I'm still a cotton ball, a doll without a spine or strings, when he shifts us so I'm under him, my hips high over my knees and my chest against the mattress. He pushes the white dress off me and enters me, resuming his relentless assault. I let him because I'm too tired to think about forming words. Part of me thinks I could pass out, exhausted, spent. Then something changes; my insides tighten, heat up again. I realize I'm not tired at all anymore. From this angle, he's too big for me, but he doesn't care: he takes, and takes, and takes, and I love it. I push my hips back to meet him and lift my chest, now on all fours. My hands reach back to part my cheeks, if only to feel him a little deeper. Drusk takes it as an invitation; his skilled finger presses me higher, probing my second entrance.
"So very tight, princess. One day, I'll take you there, too."
I scoff. "In your dreams."
He laughs like I'm silly to even pretend I’ll deny him. "Oh, I will. And you'll like it. Just like you like this."
He's right, I do enjoy the ministration of his thumb in my ass. What is he doing to me?
"I'm going to come inside you, princess. I'm going to fill you."
It's a warning, not a question, and my only response is to move faster. He pants as his hips fly in and out of me, filling me deeper than ever. I feel my toes curl, and my core is on fire. Abandoning my back entrance, Drusk titillates me with his fingertips, harshly. Unbelievably, for the third time, I’m gone over the edge of the precipice. My release triggers his, and as promised, he thrusts in deep inside me one last time.
I fall forward, and Drusk joins me. We breathe in unison, lost to the world.
Then I start thinking.
I can't deny how much I like feeling him warm my insides. We fae don't reproduce like mortals; it may take a thousand days, a thousand years of him planting his seed inside me before I bear the fruits, but I still imagine my mate's child. A little girl taller than me by the time she can fly. A boy with his midnight eyes.
And the third born I will have to give to the sea.
I think I might cry if I let myself.
Instead, I get up.
"I'll call for a bath. We have to make ready to go north.”
March North
Drusk
We agreed to bring two of my rangers along with Ina. I call for a meeting in front of the runes of what used to be our base, and give my orders. I can tell the moment I see my sister's glare that there'll be hell to pay for my choices.
I left Erdun in charge of training, shadowed by Neb. With me, I'm taking Ive and Jules, because they're competent enough and they can both be spared from Whitecroft.
I'm not surprised when she follows me back home, silently fuming as she watches me pack.
I lost the right to feel protective over my sister sometime in the last decade, at least according to her. Once, the ten years between us were an ocean; now, she’s sixty-three, and as capable as anyone I’ve ever trained. More so. I’m man enough to admit that I demand twice as much from her than from anyone else.
But she’s still my sister. I remember the day she was born. Ma put her in my arms and told me she’d called her Nebula because I loved watching the void of the sky.
So when she demands to be included in our mission, I can only laugh. “You’re kidding.”
I don’t say it as if it’s a question. She must be kidding.
She plants herself right in front of me and glares. “You’re the one who’s kidding. You're taking Jules. Jules! I can wipe the floor with his face.”
That’s certainly true, and I take no small amount of pride that my sister can take a gentry twice her weight in single combat.
“Jules has been trained to follow a trail. That’s valuable and relevant to the objective.”
