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"Will you do as you're told now?"
He's such a dick, but I'd do just about anything to get his maddening hands back on me, so I nod.
"Perfect." He bites his bottom lip. "You're quite perfect, feather." He's lying, but I don't care because his hands return to me, one of them grasping my shoulder, and moving to the top of my chest, right over my heart. I can barely take it.
I think I moan. Actually, I know I do. All of the tension, all of the pain I carry to stop myself from destroying everything are torn away from me, wave after wave. I throw my head back and my eyes flutter shut. At the back of my mind, I feel the danger. He could take so much. He could take everything. Reiks's devastating ability could claim my life if he wishes it. I'm stunned to realize I trust him with it. I know he doesn't mean to harm me.
It's only when I feel another moan wrenched from my throat that I notice another sensation, much lower. I open my eyes and, indeed, Natheran fucking Reiks's hand is grasping my crotch through my stupid gray jeans. I don't know whether I want to tell him to remove it or beg him to continue. "Reiks." The only sound I can manage is his name. I leave my plea to his interpretation.
"I'm right here, feather."
I can't take it. I can't. And yet, I want more. More release, more friction, more of him. I bring my hands to my mouth to stop the scream rising up my throat, but he moves the hand against my chest to take my wrists and lock them over my head in an iron fist. "None of that. I want to hear your every sound."
The whimper that slips out of my mouth is too embarrassing for words. He lets go of my hands to move to my collar and fiddle with the button of my shirt.
We're outside, on university grounds in the middle of the night. Just about anyone could stumble across us, and yet he opens button after button, until my breasts are on full display, bare, because they're too small to need any contraption. Today, I wish I was the kind of woman who wore bras, but I'm never one for needless nonsense.
The midsummer air is thick and warm, but my nipples embarrassingly harden all the same.
"Someone could see us." I don't sound like myself.
I'm not myself. His touch is unlike anything I've ever experienced, though I've danced with and screwed my fair share of great fae lords, known for their prowess.
"Shall I stop then, my feather?" he chuckles against my throat, his lower hand toying with the band of my jeans, brushing against my skin.
I whine in distress.
"Thought not," he whispers, his breath on my lips, seconds before his mouth covers mine, swallowing my next moan just as he slides his hand inside my open jeans.
His clever, clever hand toys with me, caressing in soft, slow motions then pressing hard, and parting my drenched folds.
I lose myself entirely, both to the pleasure and the delicious, strange pain that his constant syphoning causes. He's everywhere, fingertips teasing, curving, rubbing, his demanding mouth claiming mine.
"I'm going to fuck you tonight, my feather. That wasn't part of the plan. Not yet. I don't think you're ready. But when you run in the morning, remember this." His voice drops to a murmur. "Remember how you feel now. Know, in your heart, that I’m the only one in this world who can give you what you crave."
I try to think of a smart retort and come up blank. Thinking is far beyond my skillset in this moment. I'm too occupied by the stubborn fabric on his shoulders that refuses to open when I tug. I'm too focused on his mouth when it closes over my nipples and sucks. He lowers the tight fabric along my thighs and I wiggle to help shed it. I want more of his skin. Ineedit.
On his knees in front of my bare legs, Reiks smirks before bringing his mouth to my pussy, lifting one of my legs over his shoulders.
I thought he was good with his hands. I thought the sensations couldn't get more intense. I was so, so wrong.
His tongue fucks my drenched folds slowly, languorously, at first. He takes his time exploring every crevice, every corner, curving, licking, flicking against my sensitive nub. My fingers thread through his dark hair as I try not to fall, weak as my one supporting knee is. Heat gathers at my pulsing core. I'm so, so fucking close to falling. Reiks's mouth moves from my opening to my clit and sucks it. I give up. My entire body goes limp as I scream, my release so powerful I lose my senses, my vision, and what's left of my balance.
I'm still dizzy and confused when I feel it. Something hot, and hard, right against my throbbing pussy. I force my eyes to focus just in time to watch. Reiks is standing in front of me now, my right leg in his arm, and the tip of his cock pushes at my soaking entrance.
He's inside me in one deep thrust, filling me completely. Before I adjust, he's withdrawn all the way, and dives inside again, and again, and again, deep, fast, unrelenting. I hear him grunt and laugh and tell me how well I'm doing, when I do nothing but take it, takehim. He's entirely in charge, taking his pleasure and forcing mine.I lower my face to his shoulder, to mask my scream against his skin, before I remember his admonishment.
I don't think I've ever been fucked before. I’ve had sex, sure, but I was somewhat participating in the intercourse, not just taking it. I like this. I like it so much I scare myself. Sex was always the simple matter of meeting a need, either after a festival or a fairy dance, but this? I don't think Lughnasadh has anything to do with the wild, all-consuming, desperate feelings Reiks tears out of me. He's already syphoned the magik I couldn't control. This is all him. His power over me.I could get addicted. I can't imagine knowing that his hands feel this way and not wanting them on me every day. Every hour.
Reiks brings me right back where I was moments ago, at the edge of a bottomless pit, and pushes me down, down, down, again. I scream. I beg. I think I scratch him. I must black out, because the next time I blink, I'm lying on my stomach, on the floor, my ass in the air, and he's fucking me from behind now, his thighs slapping against mine at each wild plunge, hands digging into my hips. I mewl like a cat in heat, crawling up to all fours. My hips move to meet his because I want more. More, more, more.
"Such a good little feather…"
He fucks me against a tree. He sits on the ground, places me on his lap, legs on either side of his torso, and screws me from behind again.
The sun's rising in the distance and I'm entirely spent, content to rest against him, both of us naked in the wood.
Then I wake in a familiar great white and blue room bathed in golden light, alone in an immense bed that smells like the ocean, and flashes jump to my mind.
