Page 158 of A Touch of Poison
She nodded, hair yanking in my grip.
“So bold. That’s the flame I remember. Go on, then. Take what you want.” I eased my grip just enough that she could lower herself.
My dick strained as I watched her sink onto my shadows with a breathless moan.
Bit by bit, the shadow cock disappeared, until just shy of two inches remained and the smaller extension in her back passage held still. I only wanted her to feel the fullness this first time.
Panting, thighs trembling as she held her weight up, she leant back on me.
“Do you think you can take it all, love?”
“I don’t… I don’t know…” Her gaze darted down in the mirror and the moment she saw my shadows inside her, her eyebrows peaked and she made a wordless sound. Eyelids fluttering, she gave a small nod. “Maybe?”
“I think you can.” I slid the shadows out, letting her lift her head a little so she could keep them in sight. “Will you try for me?”
Her throat bobbed and she nodded.
She eased onto me—no, onto my shadows, as I reminded myself with gritted teeth and the ache of my raging hard cock. They rose, meeting her efforts until they disappeared entirely.
“That’s it, my perfect one.”
As she lifted herself again and rode my shadows’ length, it made my head spin.
I could have this. Have her.
The wild panic of that seized me, making my pulse spike. I could have what I wanted.
The distraction loosened my shadow grip on her thighs, giving her more movement, which she took full advantage of. Hips rocking, she went from tip to base again and again.
She whimpered as I reminded the shadows around her clit of their task: making her come completely undone.
“My sweet ember takes it all so well, doesn’t she?” I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. I was drunk. A little on the brandy; mostly on her.
On her scent. On how close she was. On how very near I was to all I wanted.
So while all my willpower occupied itself with keeping my hands on her wrists and hair, I sat here weak and foolish, spilling nonsense praise into her.
And I didn’t even care.
Not with the sight of her tits bouncing with every thrust. Not with her pussy dripping for me. Not with the rising cries telling me exactly how close she was to another climax.
I drove into her, chasing that for her.
Not me.Not me, as the tight frustration low in my spine reminded me.
This didn’t count, I told the part of me that cared. If it was my shadows touching her, making love to her, wrenching such sweet music from her lips and the little wet sounds, it didn’t count.
If I was doing it for her, to make up for all her husband and her country had taken from her, to make up for my own failings, and if I didn’t come, it didn’t count.
I told myself all that.
But it was a lie.
Fae couldn’t speak them out loud, but Stars above, could we lie to ourselves.
It counted.
And I took pleasure from it, even if I didn’t get to drive my cock into her. Her pleasure was mine, and each sound, each writhing movement, each trembling orgasm was pure joy in my nerves.
