Glamour: Contemporary Fairytale Retellings

“That’s right. Scream for me, Thea.”

Her body was out of her control. Shaking and wild. He drove into her again and she came in a violent burst. She cried his name and went limp, quivering in the aftershocks. Tears sprang to her eyes from the wonder of it. He’d given her the best orgasm of her life.

He didn’t stop though.

He continued riding her, pumping relentlessly. His hands dug into her hips, lifting her for his plunging cock. “Again, Thea,” he demanded.

“No. Can’t,” she gasped, shaking her head. There was no way. It was too much. He could not possibly wring another orgasm from her.

“You can.” He was unrelenting, fucking her ruthlessly. His thrusts fell faster, harder, pushing her again to the edge of climax.

She clutched his shoulders, his back. Her hands moved down and gripped his taut ass, reveling in how it flexed as he pumped over her.

He launched her over that edge again. Tears streaming down her face, she shrieked and he lost all restraint. He became a thrusting animal, savage and intense as he plowed into her body, taking it and claiming it and using it for his desire. As she had used his. She’d never felt so desired. So innately female. So powerful.

A few more lunges and he stilled, throwing back his head with a groan as he came inside her, spilling his seed deep.

She couldn’t slow her breathing. Her breasts rose and fell in heavy gasps. He lowered his gaze back down to her and she knew she looked shell-shocked. Because that was how she felt.

She fought to regain her breath. “That … was …”

He nodded, looking so grim right then that she didn’t know what to make of him.

He was still lodged deep inside her and that only added to the sudden awkwardness. What did one say immediately following sex with a stranger? Should she thank him? At this point Charlie would go brush his teeth and get ready for bed.

He eased out from her body and collapsed on his back beside her, throwing one arm over his forehead. His breathing was still labored and that made her feel better. Maybe he felt shattered too. Maybe he needed some time to compose himself.

Several moments passed, however, as she lay there staring at the dancing shadows on the ceiling, and she was sure she needed to get up. She reached for his shirt, determined to slip it back on even if she had to hold it shut since the buttons were gone, scattered God knew where.

“Where are you going?”

She stopped and looked down at him, clutching the shirt in front of her to shield her nakedness. “Going back to the couch?” Why did that have to come out like a question?

He sat up and tugged his shirt from her hands, tossing it aside. “We had an understanding.”

“Yeah. And we…fucked. So…” She gestured lamely to the couch.

“There’s a lot I still want to do with you.”

“We’re not … we’re still…” Her voice faded.

“I’ll need you again. Soon,” he said. “Unless you’re too sore?” His expression turned almost sulky at that prospect.

She shook her head dumbly. “No. I’m fine.” He could go again? More than once in a night?

“Good,” he said, his eyes dropping to her body. “Because I’m not close to done with you.” His voice dropped even lower. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there is a bit of magic in those glens, after all.” His hand trailed between the hollow of her breasts. “Are you even real?” His hand circled round to palm a heavy breast, thumbing the nipple until it strained for more of his touch. “Maybe you’re a faerie come to bewitch me, aye?”

Her only response was a whimper as his thumb rolled her nipple.

Then his hand was gone.

She looked around desperately as he climbed out of bed. But then he was back. He wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her easily from the bed, carrying her into the bathroom. Her head twisted and turned, unsure what he was about until she heard the loud hiss of the shower water.

He deposited her inside the tub. Warm water sluiced down her, plastering her hair to her face. Gasping, she pushed the strands out of the way, slicking the long hair back.

He followed her inside, pulling the curtain shut on them and sealing them in.

She admired him. The water hit him and he angled his neck and head to better wet his hair, turning the dark brown strands black. He looked so at ease, as though showering with a woman was the most natural thing in the world for him. Had she ever known so confident a man? Certainly she had never been with one. He was grumpy, to be sure. And bossy. But Lord was he sexy.

His body towered over her, crowding her in the small space. She stared up at him uncertainly.

He stared back down, eyes narrowing, considering her. “You never took a shower with a man before.” A statement, not a question.

She shook her head. She might have two lovers to her credit, but there was a lot she hadn’t done. A lot she didn’t know. “Am I so transparent?”

Why did she get the impression he could read her mind? Her throat constricted and she looked away. That would be embarrassing if he could. Then he would know exactly how into him she was, how much power he had over her already.

“Look at me.”

She returned her gaze to him. The water beat at her back and ran down her legs. Still watching her, he grabbed a bar of soap and built up a lather with his hands.

Putting the soap aside, he set his soapy hands to her body, washing and massaging her so thoroughly she couldn’t help from moaning. It was incredible.

He started at her shoulders and then worked his way down. He spent a lot of time on her breasts, his fingers sliding over the slippery skin, rolling and squeezing her nipples while murmuring, “Such pretty tits.”

He let go and stepped closer, his chest flattening against her breasts as his hands worked their way down the slope of her back to massage the rounds of her ass and lift her higher so his erection poked her in the stomach. “And this ass.”

She arched her face up into the spray of water, sharp whimpers escaping her.

Nothing had ever felt this good.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded.

His fingers slipped down the cleft of her ass. He pushed his cock against her backside, sliding it against the cleft of her cheeks, teasing her with long and deep strokes. Then his fingers were back, skimming lower until he found the entrance to her sex. He brushed there before his soapy fingers drifted to softly circle her oversensitive clit and give it a roll.

A hiss escaped her.

Then his hands vanished from between her legs. She cried out in disappointment. He dropped to his knees in front of her. Her head spun, dizzy with desire and bewilderment at his actions. He lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder. Then his mouth was on her. He devoured her. Licking with his hot tongue, nibbling with his teeth, his beard rasping her most sensitive skin. Oh. My. God.

She screeched, one hand gripping his hair while the other one braced along the shower wall. “Niall … you can’t…”

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