Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

22. Chapter 22

Chapter twenty-two

I ’m trembling with anger as I stomp my way from the ballroom to Tristan’s rooms. Tristan is walking beside me, but he is wisely not saying a word. If he tried to speak, I’d punch him.

Part of me knows there is something going on with my rage. Some issue or hang-up that has been well and truly awoken. Because I barely know Dyfri, so I can’t genuinely be this incensed on his behalf. But I’m not a flipping therapist, so I’m not going to be able to figure out what my problem is. And I don’t need to know. I can just seethe without analysing it.

We reach Tristan’s rooms and he drops my leash. My feet thud on the floor as I storm to my room. I slam the door shut behind me. The noise and violence is satisfying for one single heart beat before Tristan ruins it by calmly opening the door and stepping inside.

I place my hands on my hips and glare at him with my full ferocity.

He stares back at me serenely. “Do you need a blow job?”

My mouth opens. It closes. It opens again. This fucking man is unbelievable. My thoughts are scattered and my cock is twitching hopefully.

“I do not need a blow job!” I yell .

Tristan tilts his head to the side. “You are very grumpy.”

“Because you and this place are both vile!”

Tristan winces ever so slightly, a faintest of movement around his eyes, but I see it. He looks hurt. Wounded, even.

Seriously? That is one of his buttons? Me not liking him? And for fuck’s sake, I’ve finally found a sore point, but for some unfathomable reason, I don’t want to press it. This is all kinds of messed up.

I suck in a breath. It’s time to move the conversation on and steer away from these uncomfortable waters.

“I yelled at Dyfri for not having your back, but all along, you never had his! In the worst possible way.”

Shit. This isn’t safer waters at all. I’ve thrown an anchor in and stuck myself in the path of the storm. Seems I am capable of wanting to hurt Tristan after all.

He slowly crosses his arms over his chest. “It is not my doing. I am not the reason Dyfri is a rhocyn.”

“You haven’t done anything about it!” I spit. I can’t believe he is going with the whole ‘It’s not my fault.’ It is stupid, childish, and quite frankly, utterly beneath him.

“What would you have me do?” he says. “I’m a prince, not a god.”

My fists clench. I really hope he is not as calm as he seems. Acting cool is one thing, being a cold emotionless bastard, is quite another.

“Something. Anything,” I bite out through gritted teeth.

I don’t believe for one moment that he is as helpless as all that. He is a prince. And well, him. Tristan. A force of nature. Unstoppable and unrepented. If he wanted to change the world, he could. Nothing and no one would be able to stop him .

His eyes narrow, but he cannot out glare me. I have it down to a fine art form. I’m a master of it. As I should be after all the damn practice I have had.

“Did you really yell at Dyfri on my behalf?” he asks.

I blink. Now the bastard has thrown me off course, because I was not expecting that.

“It was more of a snap,” I confess.

Nevermind that it was also directed at Jamie and Mabon. The point still stands. I had a go at Dyfri for doubting his brother.

The very corners of Tristan’s lips curl upwards. Motherfucker. He cannot be pleased about me bitching at his family. He is such an asshole. Always thinking the best of me. It is infuriating.

“You need an orgasm,” he says calmly.

His words feel like a slap to the face. We’ve circled back to this again? Belittling me. Mocking me. I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate how my body is responding to his suggestion.

“I do not!” I growl, taking care to enunciate each word clearly.

“You are all angry and agitated. A couple of orgasms will calm you down.”

Heat coils in my guts. I clench my jaw and ball my hands into fists.

“You are impossible!” I declare.

Suddenly, I’m on my back on the bed and Tristan is above me. The bastard pounced and pushed me back until I toppled over, and I never even saw him move.

I glare up at him and ignore the heat of his body and the feel of his weight pressing against me. I should be trying to headbutt him. Or bite him. I should be doing anything apart from lying here with a racing heart and a swelling cock.

He raises my hands above my head and pins them to the mattress with one of his stupidly large and strong hands. With his other hand, he deftly unties my robes, and in no time at all, I’m naked.

I don’t want to think about how much practice it must have taken to make such a smooth move. But I cannot shake the dark thought from my mind. How many other people has he done this to? When he is done with me, am I going to be as forgettable as they are?

“Hold,” he says, and a warm tingling sensation dances over my wrists.

His hand moves away. I try to move my arms. They won’t move. This bastard has pinned my hands to the mattress with magic.

He gives me an evil smirk. Then he slowly slides down my naked body. His firm hands take hold of my thighs and gently lift and spread them.

I stare down at him, settled between my legs. All glowing red eyes and proud antlers. A beast. A demon. A monster. About to take me. Devour me. Destroy me.

I can’t breathe. My lungs are stuttering, short, sharp, awkward gasps that aren’t giving me any oxygen at all. My cock is throbbing. Arousal is pulsing in my veins. I want him. I want this.

His ruby eyes are still gleaming. He winks at me and then his tongue attacks my hole. Scalding hot, wet, soft yet insistent. My back lifts off the bed, my body arches, my throat cries out. Oh my stars.

His tongue licks over and over. Around and around. Wet and soft. Heated. Everything is so tender down there, the skin so delicate. I can feel him acutely. I can feel the pleasure building and building. Spreading from between my legs to consume my entire body. A wildfire setting everything in its path ablaze.

I can feel my hole relaxing. Softening. Fluttering for him. It should be mortifying. Humiliating and devastating. But the truth is, it is none of those things. It is glorious.

I moan in delight as his tongue sinks inside me. My head thrashes back and forth. There is so much sensation and ecstasy zapping through me. I’m already ready to burst. At least I’ve lasted a little longer than the first time he ate me out.

My eyes scrunch up tight as I surrender to my orgasm. Pleasure surges, crests and breaks. It races through me like lightning. Rearranging every cell in my body and rewriting my DNA.

Panting, I slowly drift back to reality. My arms are still pinned above my head. Tristan is still between my legs, but he is sitting up now.

I watch hazily as he unstoppers a pretty bottle and pours a clear oil onto his fingers. He gives me a soft smile, and then his oiled fingers slip inside me. I moan weakly. His fingers spread, opening me up and then he somehow pours oil directly from the bottle, right into me.

It is warm, so warm. Viscous. It tingles and heats my insides. My hips start to rock.

Tristan shrugs his robes off of his shoulders and they tumble all the way down. Revealing all of his magnificent body. My gaze fixes on his gorgeous cock. His fingers dance lightly over it, smearing oil. Now his cock is glistening in the soft lamplight of my bedroom .

He leans over me, and my sluggish mind finally sparks to life. Alarm trembles through me as realisation dawns.

“You’re going to try to put that thing inside me?” I gasp, even though more than half my brain cells are dancing with giddy glee at the prospect.

“Yes,” Tristan says with a teasing smile.

“Without asking me?” I splutter.

Tristan tilts his head. “I already know you want it. Why would I ask?”

I stare at him. This arrogant, cocksure prick. He is such a fey. Unbelievable. I can’t believe that I was starting to hate him a little less.

“It is not going to fit!” I snap.

Despite how much a filthy part of me might want it to, I really don’t think it is going to work. It is simple anatomy. Logistics and stuff.

He smiles, big and gleaming. Flashing his white and slightly pointed teeth. “It is going to fit.”

I growl at him in frustration. “Have you seen the size of it?”

His head tilts up proudly. “Yes.”

My eyes roll. There is no helping him. “Have you seen the size of me?”

Ruby red eyes rake over my naked body. “Yes,” he says hoarsely.

Goosebumps erupt all over my skin and I shudder. It is nice to have that effect on someone, but really, this man is impossible. How does anyone put up with him?

“It. Is. Not. Going. To. Fit,” I say loudly and clearly.

“Nonsense!” Tristan declares regally. “I opened you well with my tongue. The oil dilates and softens you. And I researched, and the human anus can stretch to eight inches wide. Big enough for two racoons.”

What the actual fuck? Oh my stars. Did he really just say that? I cough, wheeze, and splutter for a few moments before catching my breath.

“One, that’s a hell of a way to kill a mood. Two, please don’t ever go on the internet again.”

Far from being perturbed by my admonishment, the bastard smiles at me. An evil smile. Wicked. Debauched. It is making my heart flutter and my eyes narrow suspiciously.

His head lowers. Towards me. Towards my face. Oh no, not again!

“No kissi…Mpnh!”

Despite where he has just been, his lips taste of honey and electricity. The current from them zings through me. It wipes out thoughts and all rational thinking. My muscles go limp. My body sags. Helpless little moans spill out of me.

Something blunt and hot presses against my entrance. I gasp into the kiss. Then I’m breaking away from his hungry mouth and crying out.

My body is opening and stretching. It is spreading wide. It is being slowly, wonderfully filled. Stuffed. Impaled. My guts are being rearranged to make room for his cock.

It feels wonderful. Everything I never knew I needed. I am complete. Whole. Tristan is inside me. He is part of me. We are one.

I’m whimpering, but it doesn’t hurt. It is the most intense experience of my life. But there is no pain. Only bliss. Sheer and utter bliss .

Part of me knows that this isn’t the first time I’ve had a cock inside me. But I refuse to think about that. I never think about it and I never will. As far as I am concerned, Tristan is my first. The only one who counts.

Tristan slides in and in. Going even deeper and deeper. The pleasure and pressure and satisfaction intensifies. I have never felt so good. He pauses. Our groins are flush. I have all of him. He has given me everything. All of himself.

He moves. Short, shallow thrusts. Obscene animalistic noises tumble from my throat. He drags along something inside me and now I’m seeing stars. He slides back in and hits that spot again, and suddenly everything is white. Pure, bright, dazzling light.

I scream my way through my climax as my mind is disassembled. I will never be the same again. He has taken me apart. This is a whole new level of orgasm.

The euphoria slowly fades. Dimly, I’m aware of lying on my bed. Aftershocks are shooting through my body, making my muscles tremble, and Tristan’s cock is still sheathed inside me. It’s still hard. My guts are twitching and spasming sporadically around it and it feels so fucking good.

“I told you it would fit,” he gloats.

I don’t have the strength to talk. I’m not sure I even remember how to move the muscles in my face to coordinate such a feat. I’m going to have to concede defeat on this argument.

“I’ll let you catch your breath, Little Nisny, then we will go again.”

Oh fuck.