Lust

by Charlotte Featherstone

  “I cannot.”

  “Because I am a fey?” he asked with amusement as he picked another fig from the bowl.

  Her eyes flickered to his face. “Yes. To tell a faery your full name is to give him tremendous power over you. It makes your magic much easier to cast upon me. Besides, the fey have been known to steal the names of mortals, making it impossible for humans to find their way home again.”

  “Tremendous power over you?” he murmured thoughtfully as his gaze leisurely skated along her body. “How interesting.”

  “I cannot give in to you, no matter how beautiful you are.”

  “Beautiful.” He huffed the word as he studied the flames in the hearth. “If you look deep beneath the glam our, you will not find beauty—or kindness.”

  “I will find an Unseelie Fey,” she whispered. “I know. Almost from the first second I knew what you were.”

  He lifted his gaze to hers. “And yet you did not run from me. Why?”

  “I’ve always been interested in the fey—the Dark Fey most especially.”

  He sat back, still slouching in his chair, and studied her for long moments. Mercy fought with herself to stay calm. To not fidget and act nervous beneath his scrutiny.

  “There were Seelie there with you this afternoon.” She nodded, and his fingers curled into fists. “Why were they there?”

  “To court my sisters.”

  His gaze flashed to hers. “And you?”

  “No.”

  His eyes seemed to change color, and Mercy wondered if it was only a trick of the firelight.

  “They will not have you,” he said softly. “None of you. But you most of all.”

  She shivered. The intensity was back. She heard it in his voice, saw it in the way he held his body, and her own body seemed to respond to it—the darkness in him. The dominance she sensed he held deeply hidden.

  “Come, Mercy, and sit on my lap.”

  She wanted to. So much. But she knew better than to do such a thing. She was weak now. She couldn’t allow herself to give in to her virtue and be kind to him. To be kind would be her downfall.

  “I must leave,” she murmured, but when she turned she felt his hand wrap around her wrist and halt her. He had risen from his chair and his chest pressed hotly into her back.

  “No mercy,” he whispered into her ear, his breath warm and moist against her. “No kindness, no leniency.”

  She remembered. The same rush of excitement lanced through her as it had that afternoon when he had said the same words.

  “Mercy,” he whispered hotly into her ear. “Show me a very great kindness and remove your dress.”

  Her body thrilled at the suggestion, but her mind warred against such indecorous behavior. “Why?”

  When she tilted her head to look at him, his eyes were no longer blue, but a swirling tempest of blue-green, like the churning sea.

  “Why?” he asked, his mouth lowering to hers. “Because I wish to return your kindness with one of mine. My hands on your body. My flesh inside your body.”

  She whimpered, unable to hide the small sound when his fingers began unfastening the buttons of her gown.

  “No mercy,” he murmured as his lips caressed the swells of her breasts. “No leniency.” His tongue ran along the quivering flesh and she moaned, clasping his dark head to her chest.

  “Please,” she moaned. And he laughed, a musical and magical sound as he pulled her close.

  “No mercy, remember?” And then he vanished, leaving her alone, her heart pounding, her blood quickening in her veins. And breasts…good God, her breasts were aching for his touch.

  No mercy, or kindness, she thought savagely. He’d left her in a state of innocent agony.

  Thane slid onto the bed alongside Chastity. Her spine, elegantly curved, faced him. He was in her dream now. He hadn’t intended for it to be so, but the act of carrying her into the house, of feeling her frantically beating heart pounding against his chest while he attempted to soothe her fears had forged the bond between them. He could hear her thoughts. Feel her body, her breath inside him. He was part of her, and for as long as she was, he felt her humanity. It warmed him. Made him feel invincible.

  When he had brought her to the room, she was asleep in his arms, his spell having worked to ease her fears. He had placed her on the bed, and sat on the chair, watching her sleep. And then, he had found himself being pulled to her, dragged into her dream of them on a bed. Their bodies naked, his hands covering her.

  If he were honorable he would have severed the bond, allowing her privacy in her sleep. If Lust wasn’t so damn starved he might have found the power to do so. But his sin needed to feed, and the Dark Fey in him needed to pleasure. And she was here. Wanting him in her dream, her thoughts. Her fantasies were visceral and real. He felt her need inside him.

  He wanted her, that was true. But he wanted her awake. Looking at him. Not through a dream or a veil of sexual fantasy. But through her own eyes. But he would take what he could get. Chastity’s willing exuberance, in the confines of her dreams.

  Thane knew she believed that her dreams, while far from innocent, were really harmless. In dreams, nothing was real. But what Chastity did not realize was that in her dreams of them, everything was real—and irrevocable. He was really present inside her mind, her thoughts. He experienced everything the same as if she were awake. And so did she.

  As he was pulled deeper into her subconscious, he could not help but wish for things to be different. For her to be lucid, gazing up at him between locks of golden hair. He wanted to talk, to discover her, to forge a friendship with her. But he would be lying if he didn’t want this, too. This opportunity to be with her—unguarded—in her dreams.

  She was so beautiful. A voluptuous, enticing beauty who had the ability to make his jaded, sinful heart beat not only with desire and lust, but longing and hope, as well.

  Sighing, she snuggled farther onto her side, inching closer to the edge of the bed, instinctively seeking the warmth of the firelight as his magic removed her gown, corset and stays and layers of petticoats. She was naked, her skin white as a lily, and he saw how his hand trembled, itching to touch her.

  She sighed again as the heat of the fire kissed the front of her body, and she scooted closer, seeking more. Thane followed her, letting his fingers flick the ends of her hair over her shoulder before sliding his fingertips down her neck and along her shoulder blade.

  “Mmm,” she purred appreciatively. “That feels wonderful.” His fingers were at her waist, and the urge to cup her heart-shaped ass called to him. “Your fingers feel so beautiful. Your touch is magic to me.”

  She was dreaming. He knew that. But something made him think that these thoughts were really true. They were the feelings she kept hidden beneath her piety and innocence. This, he thought, watching her, was the real Chastity. The way she was when unencumbered by her virtue. He remembered her earlier that evening, when he had been part of the perfume and she had anointed him on her body. She had been willing—wanton, allowing him all kinds of indiscretions. How easily she had taken the rounded bulb of the perfume bottle into her tight sheath. How arousing it had been to watch and think of her taking his cock the same way.

  One day she would. And he would watch, the same way he had that afternoon.

  No, the Chastity who came to him in her dreams was willing to explore the acts of man and woman. As if to confirm it, she brushed her bottom against him and purred, please…

  There was something that stopped him from rushing forward, something that made him wish to take his time, to pleasure her as he knew he could. He decided then that he would use his fingers along her skin to awaken her to him. To arouse and satisfy. And perhaps, he might show her a few of his fantasies, as well. The dream Chastity would be receptive. And maybe these stolen, forbidden moments might soften her to him. Perhaps in her waking mind she would allow him to make love to her in the same manner she begged for in her dreams.

  “Thane,” she murmu
red, sliding her plump bottom along the bed till it rested in the juncture of his thighs. “Touch me.”

  And he did. Running the tips of his fingers along her neck and shoulders and down the length of her arms. He swept his fingers featherlight along her back, delighting in her moans and the gooseflesh that arose on her pale skin.

  Each time he came a little closer to the swell of her breast, a little lower along her hip, letting a finger trace a small portion of one shapely cheek of her bottom until she became more restless.

  He teased her with each stroke until she positioned herself onto her back, provoking him to touch her where she wanted—but where she would not ask him to. He purposely traced the edge of her breast, smiling as she arched her back, grazing her impudent pink nipple against his knuckle. He slid his hand away, letting it rest against her hip. She sighed and raised her leg, bending it so that it was draped over his thighs, exposing her mound of golden curls.

  “Please,” she whimpered, her voice husky with need, the gooseflesh spreading along her belly and thighs, crinkling her areolae and filling her nipples with blood so that they were no longer a light pink but a dark rose.

  “Are you not satisfied?” he asked against her ear, his fingers tracing over her knee before slowly and lightly gliding up the inside of her thigh, stopping just before her wet curls. She arched against his hand and he slid his fingers away from her, fearing that if he touched her all would be lost. But the image of his hand with the crystal perfume stopper came rushing back. He had been aroused by it, teasing her with the cool crystal. He wanted his fingers inside her, pumping, filling her.

  “Thane.” His name was a plea for surcease. “Please.”

  “Pleasure yourself,” he suggested, placing her hand on her breast. “Learn your body and give it the pleasure it craves.”

  “I can’t—it isn’t—”

  “Show me how to pleasure you.”

  Her cheeks turned a hot pink. “You already know.”

  “I want to watch you,” he crooned against her temple, his fingers once again soothing her into restless longing. “Take your breasts and your nipples between your fingers and show me what you would have me do to you.”

  She cupped them in her hands, bringing the peaks together, her thumbs coaxing her nipples into strained pebbles. Her eyes were tightly shut, but he watched as her lips parted on a silent pant.

  “How does it feel?” A husky moan was all she managed. Thane smiled as she worked her breasts faster, harder, between her hands, his own need stirring unruly between them as he thought about sliding his cock between them.

  “Now put your hand on your mound.”

  He saw the hesitation in her face, heard her hushed breathing, but she let him take her hand in his, and together they placed their fingers on her wet lips. His cock leaped at the provocative sight of his long fingers lying atop hers, her fingers buried between her folds, stroking and probing and swirling around in her glistening honey.

  The urge to take and plunder, to bury his mouth inside her, to taste what had been denied him thus far, coursed violently through him. She was writhing now, her hips arching slowly, seductively, as her finger swirled around her glistening sex. “So damn beautiful,” he growled against her throat, his gaze fixated on her alabaster fingers immersed in pink silk.

  “You’re watching?” she panted between breaths.

  His belly tightened as memories of the afternoon flooded his brain, and he stroked himself, unable to bear the torment of not being touched. Lust wanted release. He wanted release. He prayed that soon Chastity would shed her virtue and come to him, prepared to give and take. To share the pleasures of their bodies together.

  “Does watching bring you pleasure?”

  “Yes,” he moaned. And dreaming. And fantasizing of you. All of it brought him pleasure.

  Thane gripped his cock, pumping his hand up and down, watching her pleasure herself, reveling in his own self-pleasuring. He’d never tossed off before anyone before, preferring his conquests to do the task for him. But there was something about stroking himself before Chastity that stirred his senses. Something that heated his blood and made his cock throb painfully, knowing she was watching and listening to his sounds of pleasure.

  “Thane,” she huffed, spiraling toward her climax. “Have you…have you ever done that and thought of me?”

  “Yes,” he gritted between his teeth, his hand now furiously pumping up and down, watching her escalate her own passion. Memories of the way he’d spied on her soaping her breasts in the bath, remembrances of the way he’d freed himself, coming in his hand as he watched her lather her sex, sprung into his head, making him feel hotter and more sexually needy than he had in years. Even Lust was purring in satisfaction at this innocent bit of play.

  “Chastity,” he whispered, working himself into complete abandon. “Tell me,” he growled, looking into her face, seeing her teetering on the edge of her climax. “Have you ever wanted to reach between your legs and pleasure yourself, pretending it was my fingers giving you release?”

  “Yes!” she cried, her hips bucking wildly, her breathing coming in short rasps. He growled, reaching for her, pumping himself onto her lush bottom, then sinking back onto the bed with Chastity in his arms, the scent of their arousal mingling together in the quiet room.

  “When you yearn to feel me touch you, you’ll now be able to give yourself pleasure, will you not?” She shyly nodded, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Chastity?”

  “Hmm,” she purred, sounding very close to sleep.

  “When you next see me, your body will respond to me. I won’t even have to touch you in order for you to feel the need.”

  When no response came, Thane peeked down at the angelic sleeping face of Chastity. Her blond curls fanned over his chest. He liked the contrast of it, liked the possessive way her hair covered him. Feeling more content and satiated than he had in a long while, Thane reached for the silk coverlet and covered them, drifting off to peaceful slumber with the woman he never thought he’d have, lying gloriously naked beside him.

  FOURTEEN

  CHASTITY CAME AWAKE WITH A START. HER HAIR was loose from its pins, hanging down around her shoulders and before her eyes. Her breathing was hurried as she took in the strange chamber.

  Brushing her hair back from her face, she gazed around the unfamiliar room with wide eyes. She was in bed, the gray silk blanket that had been covering her slipped down, revealing the light green frock she had worn for the masquerade. She was still dressed. Her sigh of relief whispered through the room.

  Remnants of a dream flittered back and she covered her face with her hands in an attempt to smother the scandalous dream away. In her dream she had been with Thane, and she had…pleasured herself. Oh, God, she was ashamed of herself. She was even more mortified to discover the truth on her fingers. She could smell her sex lingering on her skin. Which meant that while sleeping she had acted out those immoral thoughts and wishes.

  Only a dream, she reminded herself. She was not, in fact, ruined. But she had entered this room with Thane. He had carried her in his arms, spoken to her in a soft, musical voice that had lulled her to sleep.

  And then what? He had brought her here. But where was she exactly? she wondered as her attention turned to the large hearth where a fire blazed. The flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the wall, and Chastity gripped the blanket tighter, pulling it around her shoulders. The only light in the chamber came from the hearth, and narrowing her gaze, Chastity searched through the room. She felt someone’s presence, but she saw no one. There was nothing present but a large wardrobe that was carved with flowers and vines, and a painted table that housed a silver decanter and goblet.

  It was quiet. Unnervingly so. She could make out no noises from the hall outside the room, or from the streets outside the large window. But there was a peculiar scent in the air. Her perfume mixed with… She inhaled softly. Musk? It was a male scent. Strong. Virile. And it was definitely mixed with
her perfume.

  Following her nose, she slowly slid from the bed. Her gown, she noticed, had been twisted to her knees while she slept. It fell to her feet—which were devoid of her slippers—in a soft swish. She felt languid, her limbs weak and relaxed. In fact, there was a strange sense of euphoria that warmed her blood as she walked slowly around the huge bed, which was lavishly draped in dove-gray silk.

  “Hello?” she asked, her voice hoarse and unsure, revealing how frightened she was. “Is there anyone here?”

  Something behind her made a noise, and she whirled around to see a man lounging in a chair, his long legs spread, his fingers steepled together and pressed against his mouth.

  In the firelight, she saw the glimmer of gold, and he leaned forward, out of the shadows, revealing the gilt mask he wore. Slowly, his hand left the arm of the chair, his fingers grasping the edge of the mask. Breathlessly, Chastity watched as the mask was slowly lifted from his face.

  “Thane!”

  His eyes were dark, not the blue they had been in the perfumery. His body was tense, like a predator waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey. He was dangerous. The man from the maze. Not Thane, the man in the perfumery.

  Carelessly he tossed the mask to the floor, watching her response, drinking her in. His gaze covered her body numerous times, before settling briefly on the curve of her breasts.

  “It was you all along,” she said on a rushed breath, finally fitting the pieces together. “You’re a Dark Fey.”

  “Yes. Crom told you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “To turn you from me.” The statement was cold. Hard. His eyes glittered. “Did you believe him? His stories about us?”

  “He told me nothing more than to beware of the Unseelie.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Did he? And that was all?”

  “I told you it was. He said your kind were dangerous.”

  “Of course he did. No doubt he left out the stories about himself. Did he try to persuade you that I would hurt you?”

  Nodding, she glanced away. She thought of the night in the maze, the times in her bedroom when he had touched her. She hadn’t feared him. Hadn’t felt anything but excitement and pleasure.