And yet, as he started to drift off into sleep, he wondered whether he really would like watching the two of them grow closer.
Seven
Her skin is warm against his hands as they explore her body. The sight of her full, gorgeous figure kneeling there on his bed was absolutely irresistible.
“Are you sure you humans don’t have some kind of glamour of your own?” he whispered into her ear as he leaned forward, pressing his stiffening cock against her ass as he wrapped his hands around her waist. She leaned back into him, a soft hum of pleasure escaping her as she tilted her neck to expose it before him.
He turned his head and brought his lips to her neck, kissing the sensitive flesh softly, reveling in every bit of it, how it felt, how she smelled, how she sounded as his teeth grazed her flesh.
She needed him. He needed her. The energy between them was palpable, as it had been from the moment the two of them had first come together, and now, acting on it felt so very sweet.
“Duada,” she whispered, a playful smile on her face. But as she said it, there wasn’t any of the simpering reverence in it he usually heard.
Jasmine was too much of a free spirit for that. And that made him stiffen even faster.
“You minx,” he almost laughed into her ear, his hands slipping up to her breasts and squeezing them, “I ought to put you in your place for acting so irreverently towards someone like me.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she whispered back, turning to face him, and she looked every bit as beautiful as ever, that earthy, natural gorgeousness exuded in her every expression, her spirit wild and untamed.
“I would,” he said back in a husky voice, his hands grasping her hips as he pressed her back onto the lavish bed. “I want to claim you, Jasmine. Come back with me to the court. I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more, and I want to fuck you senseless.”
“You can have one of those now,” she said, the need in her voice absolutely dire, and Duada wasted no more time. He tore her shirt away, letting her bra fall to the side and exposing those stiff nipples to him, which he attacked with his mouth immediately.
A gasp escaped her as he did, and the taste of her was sweet. He tormented her nipples before sliding her pants off. She was wet and ready for him, and absolutely begging to be ravished.
Already naked, the prince slid into her, his thick cock spearing her tight pussy as she let out a sharp cry, a sound full of lust for him, for everything he was.
But that desire was almost drowned out by how much he lusted for her. He wanted to ravage her, to make her feel sensations she’d only dreamed of, that only a fae could provide. He moved within her with uncanny dexterity, his cock immediately striking that sensitive spot within her. It was as if she was made for him, and he for her, all his past dallying only training for this moment. His body was aching, he realized, and it was an ache only this human woman could ease.
He took her, hard and fast, realizing that his body could not be stopped in its relentless pursuit of what it wanted. Of what he knew himself to want.
As he thrust into her, it was as if a sweet aroma were filling the room, his every sense elated at the feeling of succumbing to this base need his aristocratic mind had been trained to resist, or at least to restrain. This was a human. She was just a worker in a coffee shop who couldn’t get a date. One out of millions around her.
Yet she was so unlike any other, and Duada couldn’t keep his hands off her.
She arched her back under him, begging for more, for the kind of pleasure only he could give her, and he drove himself further and further, closer to release…
*
Duada woke up with a snort, falling off of the bed with a dull thud. He groaned, pushing himself up from the floor and holding his head.
Blood rushed to his head as he stood, feeling wobbly. His eyes widened as he regained his senses, realizing what had just happened, and he sat down slowly, mindful of the rock-hard bulge outlined by his fine pants.
Fae dreams were not things to be taken lightly. Dreams were the voice of the unconscious speaking to their hidden emotions. They were the words of their instincts, of intuition begging to be set free and cultivated. They were the invisible fire that burned beneath the surface.
And Duada’s told him a message that was loud and clear: he desired Jasmine. Deeply.
After running a hand through his dark hair and shutting his eyes tight, he got up and stripped off his clothing, heading for the shower. Soon, hot steam poured out of the door as the faery washed himself off, the suds running down his body.
His glamour gave him a regal, refined look, but when he let it all down, he was still in possession of a toned, impeccably maintained body. He took care of himself. And yet it was so rare that he let people see his true self, the side of him both physically and mentally that was without the barriers he put up.
Was he really considering opening up to a human? But this wasn’t just any human, this was Jasmine. He felt like he knew her better in these few days together than he knew many of the fae back at the court.
He let the water wash over his face, basking in the warmth as he closed his eyes and debated with himself for a long while. When he opened them again, he had a decision.
Duada knew he had to speak to her. William be damned, that man was nothing compared to a fae. He had to go to her and do… something. He let out a sigh as he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. Was this how humans always felt about people they felt strongly about?
It would be tonight, too. It had to be. He wasn’t about to get any sleep in his current state, that much was clear. Not while his heart was in a frenzy.
Fresh from the shower, he slipped a stylish green shirt over his shoulders, iron-gray pants on his legs, and sleek black oxfords on his feet, rolling his sleeves up before checking himself in the mirror. He frowned at himself as he practically preened, making sure the shade of his shirt perfectly accentuated his vibrant eyes that seemed to glow with greater intensity than ever tonight.
He was always extremely careful about how he presented himself in public, particularly before women, but how he felt now was far more than that. He felt vested in how she looked at him now. No glamour, no magic—he would have her look on him as he was, and he wanted to make her desire him.
No, he told himself, I can’t think like that now. Well, I can, but—
He let out a growl of a murmur at himself as he ensured he was satisfied with his appearance—simple, yet toned and masculine. This was too much fuss in the wrong direction for his liking. So why did it give him a certain strange pleasure to make himself look so for her?
A few moments later, he was out the door, heading back down through the hotel lobby and into the streets to hail a cab.
***
As the cab driver gawked at the three-hundred-dollar tip, Duada made his way across the sidewalk and into the building, glancing up with a slight frown at the ‘unique’ atmosphere that the landlord seemed to be cultivating in Jasmine’s living space.
Perhaps he had come off as too condescending when he first met Jasmine. He often forgot what it must be like to lack the staggering resources available to him as a prince. If he wanted to, he could probably buy this place out and renovate it in… what, a week? He didn’t know how these human construction projects went.
In any case, he now realized that Jasmine really didn’t have a choice in how she lived her life. Few humans did, considering how they ran things. It was remarkably backwards, but the average worker certainly couldn’t be to blame. In fact, Duada thought as he made his way up the stairs, someone like Jasmine must have been particularly resilient to be able to get by as well as she did in these conditions.
That must have been it, he realized—what it was that started to attract him to her. But he saved those thoughts as he simply pushed open the door to Jasmine’s apartment and was greeted by her scream as he stepped in, blinking.
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I inter
rupting something?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
Jasmine held her heart as she recovered from the shock, leaning against the kitchen counter with what looked like a mug of tea in her hand. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, clearly getting ready for bed, but Duada’s eyes ravaged her nonetheless. Those pants only showed off her luscious curves, from her ample hips to her lovely, round thighs that he just wanted to slap his hand against.
But he had to restrain himself, even as he stepped forward into her home.
“Okay, you cannot tell me you don’t knock on the door where you’re from,” she said, regaining her breath.
“We do,” he admitted with a coy smile, “I just prefer to make my appearances a lovely surprise.”
“Well,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him and setting her tea on the counter as she looked him up and down. “Hi, I guess. You uh, look pretty nice tonight, are you going somewhere?”
His ego purred with approval at her words, and he smiled as he stepped into the kitchen, letting his fingers trace across the counter as he moved. “Just here. But I should say the same of you.”
She snorted in laughter. “Are you kidding? I’m surprised you can tell me apart from the garbage can.”
Duada blinked at her in incomprehension.
She waved her hand with a smile. “Never mind. Anyway, I guess I should apologize to you.”
The prince looked taken aback, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the counter, standing across the room from her as he regarded her carefully. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“I really, genuinely thought something was going to go horribly wrong at the end of tonight,” she said, and Duada winced at the smile she had on her face. It was genuinely pleasant.
“Dear Jasmine,” he said, not missing a beat with his playful smile, “what could ever give you that expectation?”
“No, really, I was thinking this next guy was going to end up being some serial killer or demand that I sit on balloons for him or something.” She blushed a little, and Duada felt something stirring in him at the sight of such color in her cheeks. “I guess I kind of thought you wouldn’t be sincere with any of this matchmaking stuff, but I guess I was wrong. Bill’s a really nice guy.”
“Indeed?” he said, “Are you thinking of seeing him again?”
“We kinda talked about it, yeah,” she said, rubbing her arm. “So I think I might. But even so, just having one good date for once feels… I don’t know, it’s just nice to be able to feel like I can, you know?” she said picking up her tea and looking into it thoughtfully before taking a sip of it. “It’s like my losing streak has been broken.” She paused a moment, chewing on her lip before she looked back up to Duada and met his gaze. “I never thought I’d say this, but I guess this means I’m sa-”
“Before you say that word,” Duada interjected suddenly, stepping forward without warning and nearly startling Jasmine, “I need to say something…”
She blinked incredulously as he stepped toward her, purpose in every motion. “Are… you serious? I thought you’d be dying to hear me say this. I figured that’s why you’d come over here this late.” As he neared her, he stood close, and Duada saw some surprise in her eyes. Did she recognize the meaning of his unconscious body language? “Um… are you wearing cologne?”
“Jasmine,” he said, “I have one more date I want to set you up on. One last one, and I swear to you,” he said, taking her hand in his, the widening of her eyes as realization dawned in her expression, “you’ll never want another one afterwards.” He didn’t even know where these words were coming from, but based on the way this human woman’s easygoing demeanor and candor made him all the more desirous, he wondered if humans didn’t have some kind of glamour after all.
“Duada,” she said slowly, “are you…?”
“Jasmine, since I’ve arrived here in Newark, I’ve appreciated your beauty,” he said, his eyes roving over her, and this time, she noticed, swallowing as she followed his gaze. “But over the past few days… I don’t know what it is—your tenacity? The way you can bounce back from anything that seems to get thrown your way? The humor you maintain through it all? Or is it just that fucking honey-brown hair that I just can’t seem to get out of my mind?” he asked, pacing around the kitchen as though agitated by something.
Jasmine’s jaw hung open at everything she was hearing, but Duada just kept going. “I can’t get you out of my mind, Jasmine, and it’s driving me mad,” he said at last, stopping in the kitchen and locking eyes with her, letting out a breath before that easy, almost alien smile spread across his face again. “So tomorrow night, I’m taking you out.”
Jasmine blinked, her eyes widening as she stepped away from the counter and into the living room. “You’re just… telling me that you’re asking me out on a date?”
“Yes,” he said simply, crossing into the living room as well, standing at the opposite end of the couch, and just as easily as he’d presented himself sincere and agitated a moment ago, he was back to his playful self the next, though there was a peculiar masculine desire to his voice now. “I’ve been setting you up with all these men but I’ve been a fool to fail to realize I’m wasting you on lesser men. You’re…” he paused, thinking of the words as his eyes looked deep into Jasmine’s incredulous ones, “you’re a kadupul growing out of a rock, twice as lovely and twice as strong. These other men—William may be nice, Jasmine,” he said, stepping forward, and this time, she didn’t move away, but looked into his eyes, for the first time realizing that he was not wearing his sunglasses but showing her his gemlike irises, “but you’re fit for a prince. For me.”
Duada’s smile split into a grin as he saw a certain glint in Jasmine’s eye as he stepped up to her. She looked at him with desire, that much was certain. But the next moment, she forced reluctance to her eyes, turning and wringing her hands a moment.
“Well…” she said, contemplating
“Well, indeed,” he said, turning her around and taking her chin in his thumb and forefinger. “I will be here at seven tomorrow. Good night, Jasmine.”
Before she could react, he leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek, and he felt warmth in his chest when he saw those cheeks flush with color as he stepped back.
And that was how he left her, standing there with a beet-red face as he strode out the door and back out into the streets with a lion’s pride in his chest.
Eight
“You can do this. You can do this. You know him, Jasmine,” she told herself as she paced back and forth in her apartment. It was just a few minutes until ‘show time,’ and he seemed like the kind of guy who would be terrifyingly punctual.
She was wearing a white blouse with a gray skirt and black leggings, and she had a scarf in her hands that was more for decoration than warmth, but at this rate, she would have it stretched out from her nervous fingers before Duada even got here.
Try as she might to calm her nerves, there were butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t want to admit it, but… she was anxious about this. Anxious in a good way. Right? She paused to check herself out in the mirror, turning around a little bit before making sure her lipstick wasn’t smudged from her constantly biting at the inside of it.
“He’s normal. Okay, no, he’s not, he’s a faery. But he’s… nice? He doesn’t have a scary-huge cock,” she said, trying to justify this insane date, then furrowing her brow and frowning. “…at least, I don’t think he does?”
She moved over to her couch and slumped down on it, letting out a sigh. This was nuts. She was nuts. He was nuts, especially. What the hell was he thinking, setting her up with a bunch of guys just to ask her out? What was his game? Was he planning this all along? He said he hadn’t, that all this outpouring of emotions for her was new, but…
It just felt so strange. And yet was the feeling unwelcome? Smiling a little, Jasmine realized she couldn’t entirely tell herself ‘no.’ Any way she thought of him, whether as a trickster or as a vagu
ely annoying friend or as some kind of whimsical mentor, Duada was attractive. Very attractive.
A pang of nervousness hit her again. But what if this was all some kind of faery trick? What if he was just tugging her along, and this was some cruel joke? Fae were known for flighty, mercurial spats of emotion, what if she’d offended him somehow and this was his way of getting back at her?
She clutched her head. This was a mistake. She had to cancel. No way would she let herself be taken by him and play right into his game. She stood up, picking up her phone to call him and make up something about having a cold or—
The door swept open, and Jasmine’s breath was taken away by what she saw in the doorway.
Duada wore a gray shirt that shone almost silver, with gold embroidery along the sides that made him look like some kind of statue welded for royal courts. The cut of his dark pants accentuated the muscular lines of his ass and thighs, leading down to polished boots that stood in a striking stance.
But what really captivated her was his face. Jasmine had admired his face from the moment she laid eyes on him, she couldn’t lie to herself. But there was always something so ethereal about the way he looked—something alien. Now, it was as if she were looking at something far more… real. The ethereal beauty was still there, but it was as if she were looking at it from a new angle, she realized, like there was a kind of lighting to his face that she hadn’t noticed before. Had she been looking at his magical glamour before now? Was this what he truly looked like, those piercing amethyst eyes seeming to penetrate her without effort?
“Jasmine,” he breathed, his voice low and enticing, still holding onto that energetic lilt that made him so familiar despite their only having known each other a few days. “You look ravishing.”
“I… hi,” she managed, blinking at his whole appearance.
That made him laugh, and he grinned, stepping forward and taking her hand.
“Shall we go then? He took her hand with a theatrical flourish.
“Uh… Nice to see you? You look nice? Thanks for coming out?”
Faery Godlover: BBW Paranormal Romance Page 7