Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

30. Chapter 30

Chapter thirty

W e walk back to Tristan’s rooms in tense silence, but the moment the doors shut behind us, a torrent of words begin to pour out of me.

“That was a really stupid thing to do. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that. I’ve caused so much trouble.”

Fear is shredding my guts and flowing like ice through my veins. What the fuck have I done? Tristan is going to have to duel with his brother because of me and my stupid, prideful temper.

I’m going to be sick. This horrible, awful thing that cannot be undone, is pressing down on me. I’m suffocating and there is not a single thing I can do.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper pathetically.

And pointlessly. Words cannot fix this. Saying sorry isn’t going to cut it. An apology is not going to absolve me of my fuck up. It is not going to save Tristan from being forced to fight his brother.

I blink as I dazedly take in my surroundings. Tristan has led me to our bedroom and now he is taking off his clothes.

“... Oh. Um…what?” I ramble inanely. I have no idea what is happening, and the shock has completely stalled all my thoughts .

“You are ripe,” Tristan says calmly.

I force a swallow down my tight throat. Oh. Oh my stars. Oh yes. My skin is too tight for my body. It is both too hot and too cold in here, and my head is spinning. It is more than anxiety and distress that is affecting me. Tristan is right, I am ripe. How could I not have realised?

Oh fuck, this is terrible. I just insulted his brother, caused all sorts of drama, got him embroiled in a duel. And now he has to fuck me. He has to be furious. I’d be incandescent with rage if I were him. It really is an unforgivable situation.

Numbly, I fumble with the ties of my robes. As soon as they cascade down my body to pool at my feet, I turn and bend over the bed. Better to get this over and done with. With as little fuss as possible. He is not going to want to blow me or give me a hand job. Those are tender things.

I scrunch my eyes up tight and grab a hold of the furs. My knees are trembling and hot tears are threatening to escape my eyelids. I’m being a baby. He has every right to be angry at me. It is all my fault. A hate fuck is no less than I deserve. I should be able to take it without getting all weepy.

But the thought of him touching me in anger is making my soul wither. For fuck’s sake, I don’t want to be a pathetic princess. Needing sex to be all sweet, tender and gentle. I really need to man up. I have to endure the consequences of my actions.

“Ollie,” says Tristan softly from behind me. “No, not like this.”

His warm hand rests on my naked shoulder. Then I’m being pulled up and spun around. I blink up at him in a daze. He smiles at me. Then his head lowers .

Oh my heavenly stars, he is kissing me! Soft and gentle. Full of care and tenderness. He isn’t mad. He doesn’t hate me. He still likes me. I haven’t ruined everything.

I sob and fling my arms around his neck. Strong hands on my hips lift me up and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. Oh god, this is so much better. Our heads are level now and the angle is perfect for snogging.

I’m kissing him like I’m trying to devour him. I didn’t know I was capable of behaving like this. It is like I am possessed. By horniness and need.

The kiss deepens. His tongue is in my mouth and I can’t get enough of it. I am also acutely aware of his hands, hot and strong on my bare ass, one on each cheek, helping to hold me up.

His fingers are near my crack and I am aching for them to work their way closer. I want them to toy with my hole. I want them to slip inside and stretch me. I want his cock to fill me. I am hungry for it.

Llywelyn is right. I am a slut for cock. There was no need to throw water on him. He was speaking the truth.

Tristan’s hand moves, it inches closer to where I want him to be. I whimper and move my hips, frantically seeking his touch.

My cock is trapped between our abdomens, and I abruptly realise, right next to his hard cock. I groan and lift myself up and down again. Rubbing my cock alongside his. His cock is responding, swelling even more and profusely leaking precum that trickles down and smears both of us. Oh lord does that feel good.

I lift up and down, again and again, all while my lips are firmly attached to his. He makes a deep, rumbling sound of appreciation, and I nearly blow my load .

Two oil-slicked fingers appear near my hole and I make a truly disgusting noise. I sound like a desperate, filthy slut.

Tristan grunts in response, and for a moment, I think he has shot his load. He hasn’t, but I’m pretty sure he is close. Just from me humping myself on him while making depraved sounds. Yay for me! Ollie the sex kitten. Who’d have thought it.

His fingers don’t move. Damn it. They are an offering. If I want them, I’m going to have to impale myself on them. What a teasing bastard.

With a moan, I wriggle around until I have his fingers exactly where I want them to be. Then I thrust myself downwards on to them. It is not graceful, but it works.

I break our kiss to suck in a shuddering gasp of oxygen. Then my body takes over. I lift myself up and down. Fucking myself on his fingers and rubbing our cocks together. I gasp, pant and sweat. My movements are jerky, desperate, frantic.

Tristan is standing here. Motionless and stoic. Calm and assured while I’m a frenzied mess.

“Take what you need, Nisny,” he rumbles and I can hear the strain in his voice. He is holding back his orgasm. Not so tranquil after all. The knowledge of that is making me feel incredibly smug.

“You are magnificent,” he whispers, as if he truly is in awe of me.

A strange sob comes out of me. Compliments? At a time like this? It really is too much. They are impossible to deal with at the best of times. Yet alone now, when I feel so very raw.

Tristan shudders. A full body tremor. But I know he is not going to drop me, I have every faith in that. He will stand here for as long as it takes. Forever if need be, and allow me to climb him like a tree for however long I need.

“Cum for me, Nisny,” he growls.

He wants me to go first? He is holding back until I do? What a gentleman. Chivalry is not dead after all.

“Cum for me,” he says again.

Well, since he asked so nicely.

I throw my head back and yell in glee as my orgasm is set free. Ecstasy, euphoria, exhilaration. It is all burning and swirling and eddying through me. I can feel my magic soaring. I can feel my cock spurting next to Tristan’s. His is gushing too. Our cum is mingling and mixing. Combining and smearing all over us.

It is wonderful.

My head drops forward to rest on Tristan’s shoulder. My arms are still around his neck, and my legs around his waist, but I’ve gone as weak as a wet noodle. His hands are back on my ass and they are the only thing holding me up.

I’m panting all over him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Are you ready for my cock, Nisny?”

Oh lord. A whimper is the only response I can muster.

He chuckles and steps towards the bed. “Don’t worry, Little Nisny. I’m going to lay you on the furs and I’ll be doing all the hard work this time.”

“Hmngh,” I manage to say.

“You can even have a little nap, if you like. I’ll be slow and gentle while you rest. Then, when you wake up my cock will be deep inside you, ready to fuck you hard.”

Oh god. Who goes around saying stuff like this? It is outrageous. And deeply wonderful.

The world tilts as I’m lain down on the soft furs. Opening my eyes seems too hard a task. Despite that, I’m not going to be able to sleep while he stuffs me with his monster cock, no matter how gentle he is. But flopping here like a proper pillow princess does sound very, very enticing.

I could get used to this. And I think I’m finally one hundred per cent fine with admitting it. This is the life I want. Tristan is the man I want to be with.

It is something worth fighting for.