Page 33 of The Fae Queen's Captive
Her hand holding my foot to her chair feels like home.
“Yes,” she says simply. “This is why. I’m answering your bargain, Janneth. I took you, and now you’re giving me what I want in return.”
“Which is?”
“You,” the queen says without inflection, like this should be obvious by now. She finds the hem of my dress and lifts it over my knees. She pushes my skirt to my hips in a pile of crystal and silk. And then she pushes my knees as far apart as they’ll go, meaning my naked cunt is bared to her.
She touches the soft furrow of me, still sensitive from what we did in the forest, and then shamelessly presses against the tight ring below.
Kidnapping is bad. Magical stalking is bad. You didn’t know you were making a bargain.
None of this is fair, and you should hate it.
I tilt my hips up, trying to chase her touch. She laughs at little at my unabashed need, but she does start toying with my clit, pushing her fingers into my mouth to get them wet and then rubbing the small bundle until I can barely think.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” the queen murmurs. “Tell me something true.”
“I’m thinking that I shouldn’t love this so much,” I breathe. “I’m thinking I should stop you, that I should try to get away.” I shudder as she fits her fingers into the opening of my cunt, sinks inside. “I’m thinking I’m so fucking grateful that I was on your land that night and not the Thistle Court’s.”
Morgana’s eyes flash, as if the mere idea of me being with another queen makes her furious. “You should be grateful,” she says tightly. “The Thistle Court is dangerous.”
“You’re dangerous too.”
She doesn’t disagree. She can’t because she cannot lie.
But she does bend her head down and nip at my inner thigh—hard and swift. “They killed my mother,” she says. She’s still working her fingers inside me as she says this, as if murder is totally normal sex talk. “Two years ago. They murdered her without provocation, without even the pretense of war. We are a Seelie court, they are Unseelie—perhaps that was reason enough, but I suppose what they craved was chaos. They knew the succession wasn’t settled on either Morven or me, that my mother’s untimely death without a chosen heir would create imbalance and strife. And they were right. The two years since I’ve claimed the crown have been like walking along the cutting edge of a knife. Sharp and joyless. Until you.”
Until you.
My heart is a kite, beating around the inside of my chest.
She bends her head, still bound with her antler crown, and for the first time, I feel the hot velvet of her tongue between my legs.
She’s unfairly good at this, knowing just how long to flick her tongue over my clit before replacing her fingers with it and fucking me that way. She knows when to suck and how hard, and she knows how to pump her fingers just right, matching the fullness inside to the work of her wicked mouth outside. The tines of her crown dig into the tender skin of my inner thighs.
I think…I think I’m in love. It’s too soon and she kidnapped me and also she’s terrifying sometimes and also I’ve spent half my time here blissed out on the nectar of her cunt—but also in the flicking candlelight, I see the marks her crown leaves on the inside of my thighs, I feel her mouth like sin itself curling against my flesh, and I think I’m in love.
She’s cold and inhuman, and she kissed me in the forest with heart blood smearing her mouth, and I think I’m in love.
And when I think of her wanting me for the past year, of the way her voice goes low and smoky when she says things likemineanduntil you…
Well, I don’t know if fairy queens love like mortals do. But even if it can’t be love, the way she wants me is enough. It’s more than enough. It’s more than I ever knew I could hope for.
And so a little voice whispers,You could stay.
I could ask the queen to ignore her promise in the library and let me stay. Indefinitely. I could leave behind student loans and long nights in the lab and app-initiated one-night stands, and I could have an antler crown marking up my thighs, I could have fairy fruit, I could have her and an entire new world.
I could stay.
I come with a hot rush of pleasure, surging against her tongue, and she makes a disapproving noise when I move too much for her. She bands an arm over the top of my hips and holds me fast to the table while she fucks every last bit of my release out of my body. Fingers curling, mouth sucking, tongue like soft, soft fire.
And then, as the clenching waves recede and I can breathe again, she licks me clean and then sits up.
“Not as good as fairy fruit, I imagine,” I joke weakly, and she shakes her head.
“It’s better,” she says, and she can only tell the truth, so who am I to argue?
She reaches up to brush some hair away from my face, and her mouth—still wet with me—parts, as if she’s about to speak.
