Page 31 of The Fae’s Treasure

I have never been that kind of man before. No wonder Deanna doubts.

I think you need to rest. You are burdened, and you’ve been protecting my son. Our son,” I whisper against her neck, kissing my way south. “I want you to fall asleep in my arms, and know that I’ll stay beside you all night, and in the morning, I will still be here.”

Deanna sounds like she might want to protest, but my mouth catches her breast and steals her words, leaving nothing but a soft, breathless moan as I massage her back, pulling her to her side. I want to taste her, especially her sweet, succulent little quim under its soft, glossy red curls.

But that’s what I’ve always done. Sink into sex, find the pleasure and greedily drown myself in it, knowing it’s equally enjoyable for my paramours. But sex is honestly the shallowest form of love, isn’t it? Saz taught me that in the most brutal way. You can share bodies time and time again, but hearts and souls don’t have to connect.

“Whatever you’re doing feels amazing. Someone should have thought of this a long, long time ago,” Deanna moans, hands in my hair, and then dancing along my wings as they spread out wide and high.

“Thought of worshipping you? Caressing you? I cannot believe a thousand men have not already thought such things,” I laugh, taking a turn to wrap my lips around the other breast, my thumbs working along her spine, stroking away such hard knots under such satiny skin.

“Sucking plus massage. Most guys cannot multitask in bed,” she chuckles back.

“I am not most men. I will keep proving that, too.”

My hands pull forth the heat of a September sun as it sends a last burst of sap through the tree trunks, giving the leaves a few more days of mottled green and yellow before they fade to gold, orange, and red. I pull that heat into my palms and spread it through Deanna’s back, down her hips, and channel it into her legs. I want every inch of her to be warm and relaxed. Trusting in me.

“You have heating pad hands? That’s crazy.”

“I am crazed for you. I know firsthand the power of an autumn moon. I could make you feel that, too.”

“Show me,” she pants as my hands slide up to grip the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her damp hair. Warmth that sinks into her skin changes to the shadowy glow of a harvest moon, a moon that reminds people that the nights will soon be dark and cold, to claim a mate now. To be plentiful. Fertile.

I hear her gasp and feel the energy shift in her. Deanna’s grip on my shoulders goes from loose and languid to needy and pulling almost at once. “God, that’s good,” she hisses as the urges seep into her and sink, traveling downward.

I can’t resist. I sink my hands between her thighs and rub the tight little package of nerves that makes her back arch off the bed, fingers surrounded by her wetness, so slippery that I sink inside with a groan.

She’s hotter and wetter than any fae I’ve ever felt, and tighter and more demanding than Saz’s wet heat. Her slick pink walls immediately grip my finger as she grinds her soft little mound ot my hand.

“That’s the urge to breed. To be bred,” I whisper, my fingers doing the job my cock longs for, pounding in and up, finding the spots that make her hips jump. “A lust that seems perfect for the season, a need that’s heaven-sent. And you? You would look beautiful full of me, Deanna. You would look like every fae queen my kind dream of, all swollen and round in the middle, with your hair under a crown of golden leaves. I would walk you into the highest courts of all the immortals on my arm, and tell them this warrior and musician, this little mortal, is the bride I want. The only mother my son will ever know. I will tell them that, Deanna, if you wish it.”

“I just... I just want to...” Her eyes are closed, lip folded under her teeth in pleasure. Her hands tease her own breasts as I decide I cannot wait any longer to taste the finest fruits between her legs.

My mouth replaces my hand with a greedy bite—not hard, of course. Just possessive. Owning. I lap her center first, wallowing in juices that I coaxed from her, tasting how sweet, salty, and vibrant she tastes all at once. Fae women are like fine wine. Saz was like a jolt of something stronger. Deanna?

Deanna tastes like the moon madness I’ve sent countless others into, never dreaming I would find it for myself. Every taste only makes me crave her more. I grip her hips and hold her tight, tongue parting her folds and lapping her tight, hooded gem. I grab it with my lips and suck, desperate to hear her come, to hear her cry out for more. For me.

“Dairmuid. Ohh. Oh, fuck. Dair, that’s amazing...”

“You are amazing,” I hiss against her wetness, fingers joining my mouth in the attempts to push her to the peak.

It hits suddenly, with a hard tremor that I feel shoot all the way to her toes.

“Oh, wow,” she whimpers, looking at me with wide, wondering eyes. “Wow.”

She’s so beautiful. Tastes so divine.

I want her more than anything, and right now—I could have her. Fully.

She’d welcome me, I’m fairly certain.

So why do I cocoon her to me instead, warm sunset breezes around us, making dappled lights for her to bask in? Why do I press my head to hers and tell her to sleep instead of telling her to attend to the raging hardness she’s caused?

Because it’s one way, one tiny way, that I can prove that I am unselfish.

That I am worthy of this little human who not only holds my son, but has somehow grabbed my heart, too.

Chapter Ten: Breaking