by Watson, Rhea
“Good girl,” I whispered, tossing the bottle aside and smoothing my free hand up her back—all the way to her neck, which I gripped lightly and pushed down farther so she knew to stay. My fingers then worked into her hair, her curls with a gravitational force of their own, beckoning me home. “Look at that… You can be so good when you want, can’t you?”
When she peered over her shoulder this time, Alecto was all sugar and a hell of a lot of spice, batting her eyelashes at me purposefully, her smirking mouth negating any of the good girl charm.
No one had ever really challenged me during sex before. They all took whatever I doled out like they were grateful. Even fae women were… subdued. Not on the battlefield, and, honestly, their subservience was court dependent, but Alecto was the first lover of mine to fight back.
Test me.
Push me.
Force my hand to be rougher.
I rather liked that.
And from the arousal coating her thighs, her cunt still swollen and slick from her first orgasm, so did she.
Once I had experimentally fit two fingers in that little hole, right down to the hilt and back again, I replaced them with my cock. Naturally, even the head was far larger than two measly fingers, and Alecto dropped the bratty charade as soon as I nudged the first inch in, her cheek to my desk, fingers coiled over it and breath catching. For now, I dismissed the brute, instead taking my time to let her adjust.
No fun if it was all pain and no pleasure.
Bit by bit, I filled her, pushing, waiting, lights flashing in my eyes as her body clenched around me. Stars above, this was tight.
And so fucking perfect.
Eventually, I worked up to little thrusts, studying her body language, using her response to speed up or slow down as necessary.
Honestly, I ought to get a fucking medal for this—for taking my time with a lover so divine and not charging ahead like a selfish bastard.
But for Alecto Clarke, just for tonight, I showed great care in her comfort.
In making her feel safe with me.
Until she finally relaxed. Until the resistance was just a touch less. Until her palms met my desk, hands flattened and breath coming faster.
Then I fucked her like I wanted to. Pumped my hips so that the globes of her backside jiggled with every thrust. Knotted the tie around my fist and arched her up, obsessed with the bend of her back, the look of her ass when my hip bones pistoned into it with bruising force, cock vanishing down to the hilt.
Owning her. Savagely. Beautifully.
Her moans and cries mingled with my grunts and snarls. While my office was no stranger to wanton acts of carnality, this was different.
This was… intimate.
I liked it.
And for the first time, I surrendered to something that terrified me without question—indulged in my own desires, ceded power to my heart and shut off my ever-ruminating mind.
Having a cock that was already at 99 percent when it claimed her ass, pacing myself was fucking torture—but I did it. I took Alecto with purpose, determined to squeeze another climax out of my fury before the night was through. As soon as she slipped her hand around and down, settling between her thighs, I slowed to an almost painful grind—for me, certainly not for her judging by the way my muffled name dripped from her tongue in long, desperate moans. Eyes clenched shut, she focused on her clit with a determined expression that nearly sent me over the edge. Finally, I released her hair and folded over, bracing above her with both hands on the desk, grinding, watching, waiting for her to come apart all around me.
And when she did, I swore I saw stars.
Every single fucking star in the galaxy. Alecto surrendered to bliss with a breathy cry, her whole body shuddering and jerking, her ass snapping around my cock like a bear trap. I smacked at the desk, hissing, snarling, a savage beast caught in her thrall—forced to endure her pleasure whether I wanted to or not.
She clutched at me through every delicious shock wave, and I literally couldn’t move until she relaxed enough to allow it.
Frankly, it was the hottest thing a lover had ever done.
Teeth gritted, I clamped a hand around the back of her neck again and fucked her, pounding into her ass until the pleasure dragged me under. Every inch tightened—and then explosion. Detonation of nuclear proportion, my climax ripping through me like a hundred steel-tipped arrows, pain twining with pleasure, all-consuming.
Destruction in its finest form.
Incoherent babble tumbled from my lips as I twitched and spilled myself inside her.
This was better than any high, even if I felt less in control now than I did totally buzzed out on wolfsbane. I relished the free fall, crashing into her back with a groan, burying my face in her curls.
Wrapping my arms around her and crushing her to me.
Never wanting to let her go…
I did, of course.
When the pleasure ebbed and my vision returned, no longer swirling galaxies and dancing stars but an almost painfully in-focus view of my office, I released her. Alecto trembled beneath me, both of us chasing our breaths, hot and sweaty and stinking of lust. While I flopped onto her as I almost always did in the aftermath, I did so with care, my weak arms braced on the desk so I wouldn’t smother her.
Cock still buried to the hilt, I was just about to move, mind veering down dark and dangerous paths—and then she reached for me. Tie out of her mouth, my fury twined her fingers into my hair, soft and gentle this time, before smoothing her hand down to cradle my cheek.
Everything went quiet then. My mind stilled. My heartbeat slowed. My eyes closed, and I leaned into her touch, into her warm palm that felt so oddly reassuring.
No, I—
I cracked open one eye to find her shyly peeking up at me, and when our gazes tangled, there was no animosity this time.
Just… quiet.
Alecto licked her swollen lips, then pulled me closer, steering my head to hers with that cupped hand on my cheek.
She took the leap—closed her eyes and sighed, forehead nuzzling at my temple.
Eyes shut, I followed soon after, embracing the free fall.
And dreading the landing.
22
Alecto
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
“Well, you were gone a thousand years…” Seated bare-ass on Gavriel’s huge leather office chair, I exited the tab I’d been using to watch public freak-out compilation videos for the last—oh, yikes—forty minutes, and then gently closed his laptop. “It was either watch humans lose their shit or snoop through yours. Pick one.”
“Are you part praying mantis?” the fae demanded as he shuffled back into the room. “Is this when you rip my head off—now that I’ve brought sustenance?”
Sustenance indeed. I glanced up to find his arms overflowing with brown paper takeout bags from the kitchen, bringing with him a scent cloud of grease and salt that made my heart sing and my stomach roar. My giddy little finger-clapping had him rolling his eyes as he kicked his office door shut, and I pushed everything aside, clearing a space on his desk for the haul.
Post-sex, I hadn’t wanted to go back to my empty flat and Gavriel wore this look that said he didn’t want to be alone, either—even if he would never admit it. He had pushed for booze, a nightcap to wrap up the evening, while I demanded food.
And now we had food.
The smug fae had folded and gone hunting for his mate.
Which, in a way, was oddly satisfying.
After he had slipped out to forage, fully dressed in those slightly hideous yellow trousers and crinkled dress shirt, I tidied around the office, magicking away any bodily fluids and righting files that had slid off his desk in the ruckus.
Then got bored waiting for him, so, wearing nothing but his suit jacket, the garment a smidgen too big and smelling strangely like earth, I had distracted myself on his laptop—
Just as Gavriel had distracted me from Benedict, from the way
I still felt his disgusting mouth on my hand days after he showed up in my greenhouse to try and publicly bully me into a date. Initially, my heart told me to go to Jack; even though it was a bit fucked-up to get off on pain, to find peace in the sting of his hand and the brutal bite of a flogger, it was actually one of the healthier coping mechanisms I’d tried over the years. I mean, everything was carefully negotiated and consensual, and when it was all over, he made me feel safe.
That was essential.
Given our history, Gavriel hadn’t always made me feel safe—or good, or wanted, or cherished.
I really had planned to keep things strictly platonic between us. But then Jack and I already had another playdate scheduled next week, and my new Dom was a stickler for rules. They seemed to give him the same peace pain gave me, and I was trying my best to respect that. Showing up on his doorstep—again—and springing a scene on him seemed rude, maybe even disrespectful toward the boundaries we had carefully set for ourselves.
Bjorn had also dipped out for the night, unable to partake in our usual grading and reality-TV marathon because a friend was passing through the highlands on the way to Iceland. So, my more-than-friends roommate was off on a vamp-only pub date in the village. Jack needed his space. And everything around me had just felt so lonely and empty, and Benedict wouldn’t get out of my brain…
So I had ended up here.
The plan hadn’t been to show up for sex, but there hadn’t really been a plan at all. It had just… happened.
And this time felt different.
He held me when it was over.
Well, I held him first, but then we just… lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, quiet and contemplative. Calm and settled. No sneering. No teasing. No thinly veiled insults.
I wasn’t flying high or anything, but in some weird way, Gavriel did make me feel safer than I would have alone in my room tonight, trying and failing to fall asleep. On top of that, the fae had been a great distraction, and being able to disconnect and live in the moment with someone who made my heart race was… progress.
Sort of.
No guilt—not about the sex, anyway.
Maybe a tiny bit of shame for backsliding into Gavriel’s arms, roping us both into something unhealthy when we could have just had a conversation.
One that probably would have ended in a fight.
So, win-win, I guess?
“Right…” Gavriel dumped the takeout bags and rooted through one for a tinfoil-wrapped bundle. “Bacon cheeseburger for the lady—extra bacon, extra cheese.”
“Good sir,” I gushed, pressing a hand to my chest with a dramatic gasp, jacket open just enough to show off a pebbled nipple that caught Gavriel’s eye, “however did you know?”
“Shot in the dark, really,” the fae told me as he unpacked the rest. I set my burger aside with a squeal when I spotted what my heart really lusted after.
“Oh my gods, yes, I love curly fries!” They were good everywhere, but the Root Rot kitchen crew were pros at making them just right, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, not overly potato-y and salted to perfection.
“Uh, those are mine.”
I smacked Gavriel’s hand away when he went for the cardboard container with that telltale curly-fry squiggle on top in marker, and he retaliated by grabbing my wrist and literally throwing my hand aside. He then snatched the container and flopped into one of the visitor chairs on the other side of his desk, popping it open in his lap with one hand while the other undid the top few buttons of his dress shirt.
All under my withering glare. Eyebrows up, Gavriel pointed to another rectangle container.
“I got you fucking regular fries and made you come twice,” he growled as I picked through the takeout bags. “Leave me alone.”
Lips pursed, I ripped into the bag with chilled plastic bottles inside—then made a face when I pulled one out.
“Diet Coke?” I held it up for him, nose wrinkled as I poked through the other bottles he must have stolen from the kitchen staff’s breakroom while they were busy making our burgers and fries. All diet. “For real?”
Gavriel’s eyes narrowed as he chewed a mouthful of curly fries, swallowing hard and rolling his eyes while I cracked open the bottle with a wildly unimpressed look on my face.
“You get the food next time, then.”
“I godsdamn will if these are the decisions you make under pressure.” Ugh, diet. Nothing like a mouthful of aspartame to take the fun out of a fizzy drink. Still, it was just soda-like enough to pair with a greasy meal, so fine. He was off the hook—for now.
“Hardly under pressure,” Gavriel muttered, setting his curly fries on the desk and hunting around for his burger, which, when it came out of the takeout bag, was double the size of mine. Triple bacon and cheese? Quadruple the greasy patties? I liked his style. The fae sniffed at it as he peeled open the tinfoil. “Just… tired and spent. Bit cruel to ask a man to do anything after he’s blown his load.”
“Ugh, gross.”
“What?”
“Blown his load,” I repeated, mimicking his lofty fae accent. “Fucking gross.”
“Just eat your burger, fury.”
I rolled my eyes again, grinning. “Useless.”
Gavriel’s gaze snapped to mine, all serious and vaguely insulted, but the moment those beautiful greys plummeted to my mouth, his instantly split into a crooked half-smile that gave me butterflies.
Weird.
Because while I had no idea how to feel about this, the effortless back-and-forth, the constant teasing and prodding of each other’s buttons, clearly my body was totally cool with it. Why else did this smile taste so permanent?
Back when I had said we could be friends, I meant it. Not only was it better for both of us to not use rough sex—possibly verging on hate sex if we weren’t careful—to fix our problems, but Gavriel struck me as a man who needed a friend. Someone to just be with him, warts and all.
And I got that. Really. I spent so much time at Root Rot pretending, and it was such a relief to let loose—like taking off your bra at the end of a long day so the ladies could finally breathe.
Plus, there was something so freeing about being able to insult someone, to act like a total dick, without worrying about hurt feelings and rumors flying, about a ruined reputation or some twisted version of the truth circulating the castle.
Did that mean I… trusted him?
I…
I took a cautious bite of my burger, perfectly cheesy, bacon crisped just right, and frowned at the fae across from me as he picked the pickles off his late-night snack.
Trust… him?
I… No.
I rolled my eyes when he started digging out the onions as well, all huffy and pretentious in the way he flicked the offending bits off his finger.
Maybe. Maybe we were both damaged just enough that opening up to him wasn’t as scary as it was with everyone else.
“Tell me, fury,” Gavriel rumbled, staring at me over his mutilated burger while I popped a stupid, boring, regular fry into my mouth, “what makes you fuck to forget?”
Right. Forget everything about it being easier to open up to him. I coughed and thudded a fist against my chest, fry stuck in my too-dry throat. Meanwhile, Gavriel’s eyes lit up like tree lights on Yule, ever the predator, even here, even now, surrounded by our greasy post-sex feast. As the jolt of panic in my belly settled, heart rate slowing, I tipped my head to the side and went for my burger again.
“What makes you drink to forget?” Right back at you, dick.
Gavriel chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and when he finally swallowed, he flashed a smarmy grin that had me sighing. “Show you mine if you show me yours.”
Yeah, expected that. “No.”
“You just let me fuck your ass,” he said with a scoff, eyes narrowing as I chomped down on a much-too-big burger bite, “but you don’t trust me with your secrets?”
I shrugged and, through a mouthful of half-chewed burger, mumbl
ed, “You first.”
Then, to add insult to injury, I wiped my fingers on his chair’s armrest, smearing grease and hoping to piss him off enough that he would drop it. Instead, Gavriel lunged forward so swift, his movements so fluid, that I almost jumped out of my skin, then let out a huff when he grabbed a handful of napkins from one of the takeout bags and tossed them my way.
“No,” he remarked once he was slumped back in his chair. I kicked up one shoulder again, readjusting the tinfoil around the bottom of my scrumptious burger so that I didn’t lose one tasty morsel.
“Then I’m not saying anything.”
We stared at each other for a long beat, both of us munching slowly through another bite, and Gavriel eventually tossed one leg over the other, ankle on his knee, and stretched his arm out along the back of the other chair beside him.
“Fury, dearest darling,” he purred, lashes aflutter and silvery eyes cold, “I thought you wanted to be friends.”
Indignation clenched in my chest at the way he sneered it.
“Can you stop acting like that’s some huge insult?” I snapped back at him, burger set aside and fingers on the prowl for a ketchup packet. “You need a friend like me.”
His eyes narrowed, that glare almost offended—wounded even. When I finally located the little condiment packet, I shook it back and forth, then ripped open the top with my teeth.
“Chill.” I spurted the red goop into the corner of my fries container, knowing I’d need three of these—minimum—but not wanting to be a ketchup hog from the get-go. “I need a friend like you, too.”
In a blink, that bleeding heart look vanished, replaced with something annoyingly smug. Gavriel sank into his chair like a petulant king settling deeper onto his throne.
“You fancy me.”