A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #1)(79)

“With regards to last night, I underestimated you,” he said.

I washed his neck and down to his pecs, my movements slowing, my eyes feasting on all that glorious muscle. I didn’t care about the scarring anymore. It didn’t detract. The swirls of ink, some of which looked like ancient scrawls, I rather liked.

I stepped a little closer, my breathing shallower. His palms found the outsides of my legs.

“I don’t know how to work with everlass like you do. I don’t have the touch that my mother had. That you have. I only know the basics. I have never worked with a crowded everlass plant because it would likely mean death to whoever drank the concoction. As such, I couldn’t really tell you about the antiserum recipe, could I? And if I told you it could work, you might’ve created something too powerful and killed me. That would’ve left a mark on you, I knew it would’ve. And now I have proof, seeing how your father’s failing health torments you even though it is not even remotely your fault. I didn’t want my death on your conscience. There was simply no need for it. So I didn’t mention it.”

“So that thing about your mother…”

“I lied. You’re very gullible.”

“But you underestimated me.”

“Obviously. I could’ve mentioned it and cautioned you and saved you ten minutes of thought.” He laughed, mostly to himself, it seemed like. “You’re sharper with the plants than anyone I’ve ever known. And I’ve known the best. Your ability to not only reason out the answers, but to feel out the answers is remarkable. In the old days, it wouldn’t have mattered where you came from—with that skill, you would’ve stood out. You would’ve elevated the standing of your entire family.”

“In the old days, there would’ve been no reason for me to reason out the best elixirs. So no, I wouldn’t have stood out.”

He looked up as I poured water over his chest. He dipped his hands under my shirt and slid against the skin on my sides.

“You would stand out anywhere.”

I let my gaze dip over the planes and angles of his face. The severity of his handsomeness was softened by his sparkling eyes and soft smile. I barely saw the scars now, looking instead at the man within. I couldn’t hide the truth from myself any longer—the more I knew of him, the more I liked him, rough edges and all. I liked his growly personality, his bad moods, and his bursts of passion. I liked his thoughtfulness and protectiveness. Even his possessiveness fanned the blaze within me.

My animal within purred at that last thought because she liked it when he dominated us. When he held us captive and pleasured us until we begged for more.

It wasn’t meant to be, though. I knew that. I knew this could never work.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t give him a happy ending to this bath. I’d said I wouldn’t, sure, but thankfully, he didn’t seem like the type to gloat.

I wet the sponge again and slowly took care of his right leg, bathing the outside first and then the inside. I made slow circles, higher and higher, until I was nearly touching his balls. His breathing grew deeper, heavier. I poured the water, splashing myself in the process, turning my white shirt see-through. I did the same with the next leg, tantalizing him with my slow ministrations. I poured the water, rinsing off the soap, before softly kissing his inner thigh. Then I shifted to the other, trailing my tongue before sucking in his skin.

He sucked in a breath. I reached up and wet my hands before rubbing the soap stone, getting my palms sudsy. I caught his gaze, his eyes hooded and on fire, then ran my hands up the sides of his cock and down, scooping up his balls.

He groaned as I massaged, reaching down and tangling his fingers in my hair. I felt a soft tug, and my animal about surged to the surface. I forced her back down. She’d push us to go too far. I wasn’t going to bang him with my cunt. No, I’d do it with my mouth instead. I’d get it hard, and get it deep, and I’d get myself off on holding the power between my teeth. It was as far as we would go.

I wrapped the fingers of one hand around his shaft and continued to massage his balls with the other. I pumped my hand and massaged, delighting in the feather-soft skin. I ran my finger over his tip, where precum had beaded. I worked the suds back down, pumping faster now, seeing his hips tilt and retreat. His fingers in my hair turned into a fist. He held me firm, and I moaned within that hold.

His breathing came fast. Mine was faster. My sex swelled, so wet, so desperate for him.

I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t do this slow. It was killing me.

I upended the pitcher over him, washing off the soap, and attacked his cock with my mouth. I licked the tip before sucking him down, taking him as deeply as I could go. I pushed up higher on my knees, shimmied closer. I pumped my hand and followed with my mouth, taking in more of his big cock with each bob of my head. He let me, his fist in my hair for show.

I didn’t want a show. I wanted a hard face-fucking.

Opening a crack, I let the fire of my animal fill me. She slipped through as much as she was able, her power pulsing, but I was still in control.

Even still, a heady wave of Nyfain’s dragon answered, power filling me. I popped my mouth off Nyfain’s cock and closed my eyes as I soaked in that thick rush of blistering bliss. It tethered us—spicy, sweet, and sexy as hell.

“Yes, Nyfain,” I groaned, still pumping him with my hand. Wanting to climb on top of him and sink down onto that cock.