“I don’t want you to have to kill for me.”
The side of his mouth ticks up, and he grazes his cheek against mine, the scratchy texture of his shaven face making my own cheek prickle with heat. “It’s far too late for that,” he purrs darkly. “The fae instincts in me will not rest until the threats on you are eliminated, and the king in me will not sit by while others threaten my people. I will not be able to tolerate it. No one is allowed to threaten what’s mine, because I will not lie down and take it.”
He leans forward more, pushing me with the move, and now it’s me lying down. It’s my body on pinpricks, hearing the word take it in a completely different context. The heat in his eyes tells me that’s exactly what he intended.
His arm muscles bulge as he holds himself over me, his eyes dipping down my chest, making liquid heat pool at my core.
“But...that’s bad,” I say lamely, even as my hips try to lift up. Try, and fail, because he still has my skirt pinned. It sends a thrill down my spine, being completely at his mercy, being held beneath his body.
Lie down and take it.
“Me and you,” he says, leaning forward, making that pull more potent, the pulsating draw more magnetic. “There is no shame in what we are.”
What a dangerous thought.
He nibbles at my bottom lip, licking at the seam. When I don’t open, he pinches down harder, drawing the tiniest, sharpest point of pain that somehow makes my body fill with anticipation. I let my tongue slip out, finding the bead of blood there, but he presses his lips to mine again, stealing the taste.
“We are powerful,” he tells me, one hand coming down to drag from collarbone to the cusp of my cleavage, a trail to ignite, to spread this kindling desire.
I shouldn’t be wanting the burn. I should be pushing him away, talking about this decision without the distraction of his seduction. But I can’t. I can’t, because every time he touches me, he incites an uncontrollable craving.
So I arch up, a silent plea for him to dip his hand beneath the fabric, to grab my breasts, to touch me all over. I arch, and he bends, and that’s all there is.
“Say it.” His lips come down to my hardened nipple, sucking it in right through the dress. I whine at the contact, head tipping back. He moves from one to the other, licking, tugging, teasing.
“Touch me,” I demand instead.
His teeth clamp over me, biting down hard just like my lip. My nipple sparks with a delicious jolt of pain, making me cry out. “Say it.”
My hips once more try to lift up. Fail. Try again. I’m pushing against the constricting fabric, making my body feel stuck and tight all over. Making me feel utterly constrained—and all the more intensely aroused because of it.
I want to grind against him, for him to press against my beating core, for him to keep me here, caught beneath him, while he doles out my pleasure.
“We’re powerful,” I repeat, giving in to his request, my breath embarrassingly fast as I do.
“That’s right,” he tells me, eyes locked onto mine, holding me in place with his gaze just as much as he’s holding the rest of me. “With gold and rot, we will protect what is ours. We will be our worst when we need to and be our best together. And at the end of the day, we will fucking destroy our enemies.” His hips punch down, finally—finally—giving me that friction I need, and I moan, shuddering all over.
“Because why, Auren?” he asks, a seductive croon bade from his lips.
His hard length grinds down into me, hitting my clit, making me flare.
“Because...” I pant, eyes locking on him as I reach toward the ties of his pants, pulling them loose.
Instead of being afraid of the whole damn world, I could make the whole damn world afraid of me.
I sink my hand in and grab his cock at the same time that I say, “Because. We will be the villains for each other.”
He grins. Slow, emphatic, licentious. “That’s exactly right.”
CHAPTER 57
AUREN
There’s something freeing and exciting about this wicked confession to each other. Maybe it’s the fae in me. Maybe it’s the rot that’s rooted in my soul. But whatever it is, it speaks to that beast that lives within the confines of my chest.
I squeeze Slade’s cock hard, tearing a groan from his wicked lips. “Make me come, Slade.”
His eyes flash. His mouth tsks. “You are my equal. My female. My partner. But when it comes to your pussy, I’m in charge.”
I arch an imperious brow, even as my stomach skips over itself. “What if I want to be in charge of your cock?”
A dark, low chuckle comes out of him. “Do you, Goldfinch?”
I nod slowly, finger trailing over the throbbing vein running down the length of him. Right when I’m about to touch the crown, I retract my hand, and with my gaze boldly holding his, I lick the length of my palm, lapping at it until it’s nice and wet. His eyes slam shut as I grip him again, stroking up. My touch roving until I grip his balls to knead and roll.
“Fucking. Hell.”
I don’t even try to suppress my smile, but then I feel precum leak from his tip and drop onto my belly. Again and again, more of it dribbles out, and I don’t know why, but seeing his cock actually leaking because he’s so turned on by me makes me feel even more powerful, and in an entirely different way than he meant. The crude liquid continues to seep, soaking into my dress, making the fabric stick to my skin.
This time, I’m the one who tsks. “Look at the mess you’ve made, King Rot,” I say, just as I take my finger and swipe some of the beaded drops still collecting at his tip. His eyes flare as I bring my digit to my mouth and suck. His salty flavor bursts on my tongue, and I hollow my cheeks until I pull my finger out with a pop.
He lets out another curse. “Are you trying to kill me?”
My smile returns, as does my grip on his dick. “Kill you? Considering what I want, that wouldn’t be very handy.”
He grits out a chuckle. “You’re being very handy.”
I let out a laugh, but it’s cut off when he reaches down and presses right against me with the heel of his palm.
“I can give as much as I get. Just remember that, Goldfinch.”
I shudder, concentration interrupted, the smooth continuation of my strokes on his cock turning sporadic. His palm, however, continues its circling and pressing against me without missing a beat.
I’m not sure what it is about the tight pull of my skirt constricting me, but it makes his persistent grind even more intense. It’s like I’m more aware of every little feeling. The ruby fabric pinning me. The heat from his palm. The wet spots he’s left at both my belly and the cooling marks over my nipples from his mouth.
All of it settles over me, wet and warm, like the slow buildup of condensation. It coats me, from blushing cheeks to straining thighs to my hand still massaging his cock, another bead of precum gathering like a drop of dew.
I wish I could lean forward enough to lick it up.
“Don’t tease me,” I say, hips trying to jolt upward again, trying to make him press down harder. “I want to come.”
“Is that right?” he says, as unhurried as ever.
“Yes,” I try to snap out, though it sounds more like a whine. How he can make me feel so desperate so quickly is like a spell he’s able to cast. I’ve never been so deliriously lost in lust as I am when I’m with him. And then, like pure magic, his hand moves faster, harder, making me moan, making me arch, making me build and build and build and—
“No!”
His hand is suddenly gone, and so is my orgasm.
I glare up at him, chest rising and falling like I’ve just run up five flights of stairs. “Why’d you stop? I was about to come.”
The infuriating male gets up from the mattress, his weight gone, dress no longer fastened down. My legs tingle from the relief, and I sit up on an elbow and then instantly slip my hand down my front. I shuck up my skirt, drive my fingers right down, ready to circle over my aching clit—