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She can’t feel me, but she obeys me anyway, and then, as if she’s picturing me in front of her, she hitches her dress up around her waist.
A growl rumbles deep in my throat. It’s so vicious I’m surprised she doesn’t hear it.
I lick my lips as she lowers her hand to her core and starts to gently play with herself. She is circling her clit, breathing hard, chest shaking, when I push two fingers inside her.
I can’t feel her, but I can imagine how she feels, and that’s almost enough.
She can’t feel me either, and yet her eyes fly open and she gasps, tilting her pelvis as if she’s trying to take my fingers deeper inside her.
With her spare hand, finally, she tugs on the string that holds her dress closed over her breasts. The tie loosens, and she eases them free.
I look up at her, drinking in the fullness of her body. Fuck, I want to taste her. It’s not enough just to feel her.
Kneeling up, my fingers still inside her, I seal my lips over her nipple. It peaks between my lips and when I start to suck, Rosalie whimpers.
Can she feel me?
“Fuck,” she whispers. “Oh, fuck.”
She is using three fingers now, making harder faster circles between her legs. I keep sucking, licking, teasing as if this were real and we were together.
A moan parts her lips, louder this time, and she reaches back to free her hair.
It cascades over her shoulders.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
And she’s going to come.
I would know that change in her breath anywhere, and it drives me wild with hunger for her.
Standing up, I free my cock and wrap my hand around it. I might not be able to feel her, but I can feel myself.
I tighten my grip, watching her eyes roll back and her deep, steady breathing turn to a quivering panting that drives me wild.
I remember what it was like to have her lips on me, her hand around me, her throat taking me deeper and deeper.
And when she mutters my name the second time, I can’t hold back. A shuddering orgasm sweeps through my entire body. I shudder and shout her name, and behind me, the fountain splutters viciously.
Rosalie comes too.
Her cheeks flush, her back arches, she parts her legs wider and grips the side of the fountain with her free hand. As it subsides, leaving her trembling, she opens her eyes and looks down at her body.
She frowns.
I follow her gaze.
Across her chest, the faintest of blue marks, glowing.
As Rosalie leaves me to return to her chambers, I sit where she sat and stare into the water. I need to get her out of here, and I can’t trust Alana to help me.
The Alana I knew is fading, and I don’t know if I can return and watch her disappear in front of my eyes.
I know why it is happening; she has been betrayed one too many times, and mistreated one too many times. But that does not mean I condone it.
What she just did . . .
My mind returns to the image of the elf lying on the ground.
