Lust

by Charlotte Featherstone

  “Don’t,” he whispered, his voice broken and hoarse. Her fingers were gently sliding down to his ears. He could not have that. But she gave no heed to his warning and ran her fingertip along the curved tip of his ear.

  He groaned, his cock stiffening even more and shoving free his britches. No place on a fey’s body was more highly sensitive than their ears. While the Unseelie’s ears were not long, they were gently pointed, and his ears were as sensitive and responsive as that of a clitoris on a woman.

  When she stroked them again, he cracked opened his eyes, seeing the rapt attention she focused on his ears.

  He was going to come if she continued touching them, and he thought how wonderful it would be to come like this, with her fingers outlining his ear, her pointed tongue licking up the shell.

  And then she did, moving forward and brushing his hair back, exposing his left ear. Bending forward, she inhaled him, heard her purr of satisfaction as she ran her nose up his neck, and over to his jaw, to his ear. Christ, it was like waiting to have his cock touched. And may the gods help him if he were to discover what it would be like to have his cock in her hand, and his ear beneath her tongue.

  Lust roared through him, and he gripped the chair tight as her tongue delicately came out and ran the length of his ear to the pointed tip. His cock throbbed, filling, and suddenly his thighs clamped tightly around her, capturing her.

  He ignored her weak protest and snaked his arms around her middle, bringing her flush with his chest, a chest that felt firm and warm beneath his clothing. Then he released one arm and threaded his fingers through hers, holding their entwined hands against her side, while his other hand trailed down her throat to her décolletage and down over her breasts.

  “You are playing with fire, little mortal,” he said, his voice harsh and full of sexual desire. “Never toy with a fey’s ears unless you are prepared to suffer the consequences.”

  She met his gaze. “Perhaps I am.”

  Chastity watched as Thane’s eyes darkened. Her gaze flitted from his eyes, which changed color almost constantly, to the gently pointed ears. Placing her fingertip to one, he growled, then pulled her to him.

  He cupped her breast, brought her closer, and she felt his breath hot beneath her ear, smelled the perfume of him, spice and claret, beneath her nose. His thumb slid over her nipple, which hardened painfully beneath her silk gown, and he chuckled deep in his throat when she whimpered and squirmed against him.

  “Fair is fair, muirneach,” he whispered. “You play with my ears, and I will play with what fascinates me—your tits.”

  She gasped at his crudeness, at the way it aroused her. At how she wanted more. To hear more. To feel more.

  “I know this is something you desire,” he whispered as his finger slid away from her breast and skated down her belly. “You want to know what it is to feel passion. You want the feel of a man’s hands on you. You want to know what it is like to have me big and hard inside you. Have I gotten it all correct, Chastity? Have I left out any parts?” His fingers were now at the junction of her thighs and he was stroking his fingertips against the curls that lay beneath her gown.

  Her stomach coiled and tightened and she felt her blood thrum heavy in her veins. He was in her mind, hearing her thoughts, repeating them to her word for word.

  “I want to take you, fuck you, have you writhing beneath me. Then I want to love you, to feel you clinging to me, begging me to give you release. And then I want to hold you. To kiss you in the dark and watch you fall asleep. And then I will wake you by sliding down your body and lapping at you, waking you with my mouth.”

  She was in his mind now. Hearing his desires. She gasped, made breathless by the picture he was painting for her. It was not only his words she heard through their connection, but she saw the images he saw. The picture of her, naked, thighs splayed, Thane’s shoulders between her legs as he covered her sex with his mouth. She saw, too, how her fingertips toyed with his ears.

  “Do I frighten you with my passion, Chastity?” he asked as he leaned forward and kissed her throat. “Or does what you see in my mind excite you?”

  She moaned and her legs weakened when he pressed his lips, then his tongue, to her neck. In a warm, wet slide he trailed his tongue down her throat, to her breasts.

  “Excites you, doesn’t it? I can tell by the way you tremble against me. It is not a shiver of fear, but of desire, a yearning for more. You want to discover the mysteries between men and women. You want to learn why women will risk all to meet their lovers. Why you would risk everything you are for just a little, forbidden taste of what this fey could give you.”

  “Yes,” she hissed when she felt his fingers expertly reach for the edge of her bodice. Slowly he inched it down until her breasts were nearly spilling out of her gown. She arched her back when his nails caressed her breasts, scant inches from her nipples. “Show me,” she gasped.

  “Are you wet?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered the words. His finger traced her jaw. “If I were to touch you, to spread your legs and feel you, would you be ready to come for me?”

  She pressed against him, unable to talk or think. How could she when he was even now lowering her bodice so that her breasts were exposed? With his thumb and forefinger, he gently rolled her nipple, and automatically she reached for his wrist, knowing she should stop this. But he refused her and instead brought her hand to his britches and pressed it against the bulge behind the flap.

  “Take my cock in your hand, Chastity, and pleasure me.” With ruthless determination he curled her fingers around his thickness and pressed himself into her hand. “Play with me, Chastity.”

  She did not know what to do, other than to slide her fingers along the satiny skin. She was startled by the feel of him. How hard, yet how soft the skin was. She could barely wrap her fingers around him, he was so thick.

  She must have been doing an admirable job, for he groaned and thrust his hips forward, sliding his erection up the length of her palm. Closing her eyes, she let her head rest against his, her breath near his ear. His whole body tensed, then his mouth was everywhere, on her throat, the tops of her breasts, her lips. His hands were roaming the contour of her figure and his fingers cupped and stroked every inch of her burning skin. Her heart was pounding so fast she felt light-headed and yet she could not stop what was happening even if she desired to. This passion, the feel of him surrounding her, the intimacy of his tongue in her mouth as he possessed her lips was nothing she thought ever to experience. It was heaven, bliss, an erotic sensation she could easily find herself addicted to.

  Fisting her hand in his silky hair, she brought him closer, seeking his heat and his tongue dancing with hers. He growled and brought his hand up to her throat. His thumb rubbed the pulsating vein in her neck, lulling her into a dreamlike state. He kissed her into a stupor, and mindlessly she moved her fingers until she was teasing him with just a little graze of her finger over the tip of his ear.

  Tearing his mouth from hers, he thrust his hips forward again and she curled her fingers tighter around his erection. Sliding her hand down, then up, she pleasured him, listening to his sucking breaths, feeling the tightening of his body, forgetting that she had no experience in pleasing a man—or fey.

  He reached between their bodies and placed his hand atop hers, showing her how to hold him and stroke him. When he increased the rhythm of her strokes, his voice was a ragged rasp. She trembled when she felt his breath against her ear.

  He was hard, the tip of his phallus was thick and throbbing. He groaned when she swirled her finger along the wet tip of him, and the sound made her feel bold. She wanted to please him, to discover what he desired.

  “Slide your hand down me,” he rasped against her neck. “Let me feel your fingers around me, stroking me.”

  She did what he asked, sliding her hand up and down, feeling him thicken and lengthen within her fingers. With a hissing breath, he reached for her skirts and gathered the filmy fabric in
his hands, raising it until she could feel his hands grazing her thighs.

  Lost to the passion inside her, Chastity did not allow herself to think, to feel guilt, to remind herself that she was supposed to be virtuous and chaste, for she wanted to be anyone else tonight. Anyone but a virtue.

  Gripping him firmer, she boldly cupped the soft sac of skin between his legs at the same time he ripped her petticoats. He stroked her sex and she froze at the intimacy of it, but as soon as she felt him part her and his finger stroke the sensitive nub, she moaned and writhed against his hand.

  “See how you play with fire?”

  She moaned, wanted more, her whole body quivering.

  “This is what I feel when you touch my ears. When you breathe against them—put your tongue to them.”

  The sensation was mind-numbing. Thought shattering. More…was the only word she could find.

  “Spread your legs for me—wide.” Not waiting for her to comply, he lifted her leg so that her foot rested on the arm of the chair.

  “What are you doing?” she cried, steadying herself by holding on to his shoulders.

  “Tasting you.” Then his hot tongue raked along her folds. “Teasing you, like you teased me.” He blew against her, then lashed his tongue once more, parting her folds. “You’re so aroused, I want to taste it,” he murmured. She whimpered in shame and pleasure.

  “Hold your skirts,” he demanded, shoving a fistful of taffeta in her hands. Before she knew his intent, he spread her sex with his fingers and circled her opening with his tongue. “I am so eager to put my cock in here.” His voice was full of passion and it made her knees weak. “Would you like that, Chastity? My cock in here, pounding into you.”

  “Yes,” she cried, feeling her body coil tightly. And then he was circling the nubbin of flesh with his tongue, flicking it so that she was gripping his hair and thrusting her hips in a rhythm he matched with his mouth.

  He rubbed her with his mouth, his lips and nose, and she cried out, her fingers lacing tightly in his hair. And then, to give him some of the pleasure he was giving her, she brushed her thumbs along both his ears, and he growled, burying his face between her legs as he ravished her with his mouth.

  With a keening cry, she straightened, her body tense, her eyes tightly shut. She didn’t think she could bear such pleasure, but then he lowered her leg and stood, bringing his mouth down hard on hers, stifling her cries, while his fingers thrust into her, filling her full, stroking the last of her climax from her body.

  She collapsed against him, and he held her tight. She was completed, but he was starving. His black blood needing her. Lust was ready to toss her onto the floor and take her.

  He knew he was too weak to resist. He could no longer defy his Unseelie desires, and Lust’s need.

  She’d given him her name, he had power over her, and he used it. Just this once, he told himself. Silently, he commanded her to waken, to fight the languid feeling in her body, and instead feel the aching emptiness inside her.

  “Thane,” she moaned, brushing restless against him. “Please, I need…”

  “I know what you need.”

  Thane couldn’t help but growl when he felt Chastity’s beautiful tits graze his chin. He was delighting in stroking the vein of her neck with his tongue, and she was delighting in torturing him with her pert nipples, teasing him into suckling her. But he would resist—ignore—the predator within that was clamoring to devour the delightful morsel in his arms.

  It wasn’t enough to fling her onto her back and embed himself within her. It might have satisfied his craving if she’d been one of the courtesans or opera dancers he frequented. But this was Chastity—the woman he wanted above all others, the woman he had to seduce, to make understand that what she thought was truly him couldn’t be further from the truth.

  He wanted to awaken her, to make her mindless with need, to slowly satisfy her. He didn’t want their first time to be a quick rut—and by the way his cock was swelling and filling, he knew it would be too quick. No, he wanted the awakening of Chastity to be slow and sensual. He wanted to feel her tight against him, then slowly stretch to accommodate him. Unfortunately, if she didn’t quit writhing in his arms, brushing her tits against his face and rubbing her mound against his trousers, he was going to grab her hips and take her in an act of raw possession.

  The vision took hold, and in an impulsive but highly satisfying act, he took her breasts in his hands, pushing them together and burying his face between them, inhaling the sweet and innocent floral scent of her while nuzzling her skin, his thumbs coaxing her nipples to harden further for him.

  The sound was a guttural cry from deep in her throat. The need, the desire he heard pushed him on, and he squeezed, then tugged and pinched at her nipples, while his mouth continued to suck the milky flesh of her breasts. Her fingers were on his shoulders, tightening, biting as he took one straining nipple into his mouth, sipping it between his lips before suckling, pulling the flesh into his mouth, drinking in her passion with increasing need. She moaned, and rubbed her curls along him while he sucked, his other hand kneading a path down to her belly.

  She arched beautifully into his mouth as he increased his suckling, his tongue flicking out to soothe and lave the reddened nipple. When he grasped it between his teeth and gently bit, she shivered, her stomach delightfully quivering beneath his fingers. He’d never felt that before—the quivering of a woman as desire and need swept through her. He’d been aware of the need in his conquests from the tightening of their breasts, the scent and wetness of their arousal, but he’d never taken the time to study them, to run his fingers along their bodies and discover where else they might feel desire.

  “Oh, God,” Chastity moaned, unable to stem the shaking of her limbs as his fingers swept over her belly and along her sides. If he would only touch her there. If she could just feel his fingers buried deep within her she could be rid of this escalating desire, a pleasure almost painful in its intensity. Fool that she was, she wanted him. Her body ached for him, her heart pleaded with her mind to give him another chance. Let him prove himself, it whispered.

  Gooseflesh flickered down her spine and along her bottom as Thane’s wickedly sensual fingers swept down her back, tickling her buttocks and trailing down the backs of her thighs.

  “Touch me, Thane…like before,” she whispered, frantic to feel his fingers in her wetness.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” He brought her breasts together again, his eyes challenging her—daring her to say the words.

  “Please,” she whimpered, silently telling him by rubbing her wet curls against him. “You know where.”

  He tickled her then, his fingers slowly grazing the top of her mound, his fingers curling in her hair, tempting her, making her wish to beg for his touch. Chastity felt the warmth pool as he slid one finger along her wetness. He parted her, slipping one finger, then another deep within her.

  “Do you know what you do to me?” Thane asked, meeting her eyes through the fringe of his sable lashes.

  “So pure and innocent to look at, but I get one hand on you and you’re wanton and hot. You’re every man’s fantasy, Chastity.”

  “Every man? But you’re a fey.”

  He groaned, probing her deeper. “Come for me, Chastity. It’s been too long since I had you, since I felt you on my hand.”

  Gods, it wasn’t supposed to be happening this way, Thane thought through the thick cloud of lust. Her deflowering was supposed to be gentle, romantic, soft as a dove’s feather. He was supposed to take her into the bath, kiss her, stroke her, murmur words of love before laying her on the bed and slowly, carefully sliding inside her. It damn well wasn’t part of his plan to have her straddling him, his cock in her hand, poised at her entrance, her tits bobbing in his mouth.

  This was Lust, trying to take over. He couldn’t allow it.

  “Mmm, Thane,” she purred against him, her lips pouting in ecstasy, her fingers running wildly through his hair, her hips mo
ving up and down to the rhythm of his fingers. “This feels so good—so right.” She sighed.

  But he didn’t want to take her like this. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted. He wanted her to ride him, he wanted to watch her bend before him as he slid into her in an act of raw possession, he wanted to make love to her, watching the wonder in her eyes, to hear her guttural cries of release when he fucked her soundly, pumping himself into her, making her realize that she was his, and only his.

  God, he wanted so much. Slow and loving—hard and needy. He desired it all, everything she would give him. Hell, he hadn’t shown her a fraction of what he wanted to do. He’d planned to lick her, to taste her and pleasure her with his mouth, to lap her as he made her come. He wanted to watch her learn him, to see her luscious mouth around his cock before he claimed her body. And yet, he could think of nothing more than making her his before anything could happen to stop it.

  “Thane,” she cried, surprised to find herself on her back with him bent between her legs. He’d at least made it to the bed. Lust had wanted her on the floor.

  “I told you that I’d make you mine. You understand what that will mean, don’t you, Chastity?”

  “That I will no longer be a virgin.”

  “No, that you will belong to me—only me.”

  Chastity gasped, then moaned, feeling the unforgiving hardness of him slide into her body. Slowly, inexorably penetrating her. His breathing was harsh, short pants, almost groans escaping his lips as he filled her.

  “You’re so wonderfully snug.”

  “You feel…” Chastity squirmed beneath his weight, delighting in his husky moan. “You feel rather large.” She skimmed her hands over Thane’s muscled back and down to his bottom, which was rock hard between her thighs. Instinctively she put her legs around his waist, letting him go deeper, penetrating her farther.