Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

40. Chapter 40

Chapter forty

“ D o you want to say that to my face, motherfucker?” I snarl.

The spring garden party falls silent. I wasn’t even that loud, for fuck’s sake, but now everyone is staring at me. It has gone so quiet that I can hear the birds singing.

The stupid fey woman I’m talking to is open jawed. Any minute now, her eyes are going to bug out.

A warm, firm hand rests on my shoulder. Tristan. He has run over from those idiots he was talking to and now he is standing behind me.

“My apologies, Lady Freyainogi. I mistakenly believed my vessel would not be ripe until this evening. It always makes him grumpy.”

What the hell? I bristle and start to turn around to yell at Tristan. How dare he not take my side? But before I can say a word, the world tips. The bright blue sky and the verdant green grass invert. My head is spinning.

This frigging asshole! He has picked me up and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes! The nerve of the bastard!

He starts to stride out of the gardens, back towards the palace .

“She said you let Llywelyn borrow me and that I prefer his cock to yours!” I snarl in protest.

“You do keep going to his rooms. It is bound to cause rumours,” says Tristan genially.

I squirm with indignation. “He never lets me in!”

He doesn’t. And I am never going to use Jamie’s status to invade the poor man’s privacy ever again. That doesn’t mean I don’t care. I don’t know what his deal with Silas is. I have no clue if the prince hates me or wanted to help me or doesn’t think of me at all. But he came to try to get me back.

That means something to me. It also means I want to know how he is doing. But apparently the only thing my efforts are achieving is filthy rumours.

“You can put me down now,” I grumble.

“No. You are still grumpy. I’m not putting you down until we reach our bed.”

Butterflies dance in my stomach. Okay, getting railed does sound a whole lot more fun than a boring garden party.

I lift my head up to see just how much drama I caused. Most people have turned their attention away, even though we are not quite out of view yet. However, there is one pair of dark eyes fixed on us.

“Dyfri is staring,” I hiss.

“Because you are causing a scene,” Tristan says calmly.

I huff loudly. I damn well told Tristan everything I saw and heard between Silas and Dyfri and Llywelyn. It is bloody infuriating that he doesn’t take it seriously. His brothers are up to no good. He should be doing something about it.

I am fully aware that Dyfri tried to free me from Silas. Once by himself, and then again at Tristan’s side. I should be grateful. My mind should be at rest. Maybe I’m simply biased after the whole poisoning thing. Or perhaps Dyfri makes me suspicious because he is swanning around court, while Llywelyn never leaves his rooms.

Perhaps my guilt over Llywelyn is clouding my judgement? Who fucking knows. It is a mess, that’s for sure. But Dyfri does bloody well give me the creeps.

Tristan lets out a little sigh. “You can trust Dyfri.”

Does he know that? Or is he going by blind, loyal faith? Tristan is too nice. It wouldn’t surprise me if he couldn’t see the darkness in other people’s souls.

I bite my tongue. I don’t want to get into an argument about this. I’ve said my piece, given my information and voiced my concerns. What Tristan does about Llywelyn and Dyfri, is up to him. It is no longer my business. I’m just a pet. My responsibilities are to lie around being pampered.

It is hard to embrace that when we still don't know who tried to kill Tristan with the arrow. I get the distinct impression everyone's money is on Llywellyn. Strangely, that doesn't cancel out my concern for the little shithead. I guess it would be hypocritical, since I also tried to kill Tristan.

Whatever the hell is going on, I'm leaving the plotting to Tristan, and trusting my ability to sense threats to keep him safe. That's good enough peace of mind for me.

I take in a deep breath and let it go. My body relaxes, as much as it can while being dangled over someone’s shoulder. On the plus side, it does give me a very nice view of Tristan’s ass .

I’m admiring it so hard that I’m almost disappointed when we reach our bedchamber and Tristan gently lays me down on the furs.

I look up at him and my heart goes all fluttery. I am definitely a fully fledged fey-fucker now. There is a stupidly tall, otherworldly creature looming over me with antlers and red slitted eyes, and all I am feeling is swoony. And hard. So very, very hard.

Something about my expression makes Tristan chuckle, and I don’t even mind.

His fingers go to the ties of my silk robes and in no time at all, he has opened them and peeled them back and I’m completely naked.

His heated gaze slowly tracks over every inch of me. I swear I can feel it on my skin. It is making me tingle and causing my nipples to pebble.

“You are so very beautiful, my love,” he whispers.

I squirm as waves of hot and cold consume me. Too many emotions to name. Far too many to deal with.

“Are you going to fuck me or what?” I snap.

He laughs and reaches for the oil that lives on the bedside cabinet. “Is that what you want, Little Nisny? My cock in your hole?”

I shudder. Heaven knows there are very many different ways for Tristan to make me cum and take my magic, but being stretched and stuffed to bursting by his cock is my absolute favourite.

“Yes!” I demand, with absolutely no shame at all.

He grins and his oiled fingers go straight to my hole. They tease around it and I gasp. Oh fuck, that feels good.

“Why are your clothes still on?” I whine .

His fingers leave me to go to the waist of his robes. Me and my big mouth. Though, as his manly naked perfection is revealed, it doesn’t seem like a bad tradeoff.

He preens before me for a moment, then his fingers go back to my hole. Oh stars. That’s better. Fingers where I want them and a wonderful view. Perfection.

Although, it could be even better. There is one thing missing.

“Kiss me!” I demand.

Tristan raises an eyebrow. “Remember when you used to resist my kisses?”

I scowl at him. So? I fail to see his point. People are allowed to change. He should be bloody ecstatic that I now allow him to kiss me. There is no need to tease me about it.

His head lowers. My heart goes crazy. Then his soft lips are brushing over mine. The contact is like static electricity. Instant and sharp. I moan helplessly. My arms lift of their own accord. They wrap around his neck and pull him closer.

His tongue slips into my mouth at the exact same time as one slick finger eases into my hole. I groan. My back arches. Heat floods through me. Along with hunger.

My arousal was a coiled, lazy thing. Now it is consuming me. Pushing away all rational thoughts and leaving me a carnal beast. I am pure instinct and primal need.

One finger becomes two, but it is not enough. I crave more. I’m aching for my guts to be rearranged. Nothing else will do.

The kiss intensifies. He is kissing me as if he is trying to devour me. And that’s just fine by me. He can have me. All of me. I am his .

More warm oil seeps into my hole. The familiar tingling makes my cock throb in anticipation. It knows what that means. It knows that any minute now I’m about to be stuffed.

Sure enough, Tristan’s fingers leave me. A heartbeat later and his blunt cockhead is pressing against my entrance. I whimper into the kiss. I want him, with every fibre of my being, but it is still always a little overwhelming. I’m still astonished that it fits.

The very tip of him breaches me. Burning heat. My body is already stretching for him. I cry out in bliss. Yes, yes, yes.

He eases in a little deeper, forcing a groan from me. I already feel full and we have only just begun.

My legs lift. They wrap around his waist. I’m frantic now. Wild with lust. There is not a drop of shyness left in me. I have surrendered to sheer abandon. Given myself to pleasure.

Tristan pulls away from our kiss. He stares at me with a feral light in his eyes and I’m caught in his gaze. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.

He grunts. His hips move. He slides another inch into me and drinks in the sight of me taking him.

Oh fuck. I can’t breathe. My balls are already drawing up. This is too hot. I’m about to combust. I’m about to cum and he is not even all the way in yet.

His hips move again, burrowing his cock deep, deep inside me. Feeding me the last of his inches. I wail in delight. I swear if I looked down, I’d see my stomach bulging, but I’m not brave enough for that yet .

Tristan holds perfectly still as I writhe and spasm around him. The magic oil does wonders, but he still likes to give my body time to adjust.

I pant heavily. My eyes start to focus again. He is still staring down at me with an intensity that burns.

“I love you,” he says.

And I explode. Fireworks, stars, the works. My mind is blown away. My body is arching, clenching, pumping out cum. My soul is singing in joy. Euphoria, ecstasy, and elation are surging and twining through all parts of me. My mind, body, and soul. Tying them together. Joining them in one single purpose. To fill me with more pleasure than I ever thought was possible.

An eternity later, I become vaguely aware of reality. Tristan is still over me. His iron hard cock still sheathed deep inside me. He hasn’t moved a muscle. He slid inside me. Told me he loved me and watched me orgasm my brains out.

I watch as an evil smirk flows across his face. Oh fuck. He has seen I have somewhat recovered, and now I’m going to be railed senseless. My spent cock is already rising to the occasion.

A grin spreads across my face.

My life is perfect.