Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(43)

Apollo was coming back at any moment, but I had to touch myself.

I had to.

Or better, find someone to touch me.

Oh yes.

Find someone to touch me.

It had been years. Years.

On that thought, I moved my hands to the sides of my skirts, clenched them into the material and pulled up.

A soft knock came at the door.

My eyes went to the door and my mind filled with Apollo in his turtleneck and breeches.

Especially those breeches.

Blood rushed to my br**sts and more wet saturated between my legs.

“Ils…Madeleine?” his deep voice sounded outside the door.

I was across the room in a flash.

I turned the lock, threw open the door and reached out a hand. I clenched it in his sweater and yanked him into the room.

“Bloody hell, what—?”

I knew I should stop. I knew it.

I just couldn’t.

I ran my hands over his sweater at his chest, the feel of the soft thick wool and the hint of hardness beneath it, swear to God, I nearly cl**axed on the spot.

My knees did get weak and I had to lean into him, my hand darting up and curling around the back of his neck.

I put pressure on and tipped my head back to see him looking across the room. I distractedly noticed he’d put a hand to my waist but his body was tight and unmoving as I unsuccessfully tried to pull his head down to me at the same time I pressed deep into his body.

Finally, what seemed like took years, his chin dipped and his unbelievable jade eyes looked into mine.

“Madeleine, my dove, did you drink that tea?” he asked gently, but his tone also sounded wary, urgent and alarmed.

“It’s delicious,” I whispered, going up on my toes, burrowing close to his body, putting more pressure on his neck, my other hand sliding down his chest with a specific aim.

He caught that wrist and yanked my hand back up his chest and pressed it there.

“Listen to me,” he said, now sounding only urgent.

“Okay,” I replied and successfully got my nose on his jaw.

I ran it the length and felt his fingers around my wrist tighten. I took that as a good sign so when I came back down his jaw, I used my lips.

He pulled back and shook me carefully. “Maddie, look at me and listen.”

“Come closer,” I begged.

“I need to gag you and tie you to the bed,” he declared.

Oh God.

Awesome.

“Yes,” I breathed, pressing close to him again.

His eyes flashed, the pads of his fingers at my waist and those around my wrist dug in and he said, “No, my dove, not for that. For your own good. You’ve had adela tea and the effects won’t wear off for some time. I need to leave you alone. And so you don’t get into trouble, I need to tie you down.”

“I’m okay with the tying down bit, not okay with the leaving bit,” I told him.

“I must.”

“You mustn’t.”

“Maddie, I must.”

I shook my head and pressed closer. “Please, don’t leave.”

“But I must,” he repeated.

I ignored that and pulled him with me as I took a step back, urging, “Come to bed.”

“I can’t.”

I slid my hand to his jaw and got up on tiptoe, begging, “Please.”

He moved both of his hands to my face and dipped his close, but his hold on me was firm so I couldn’t get to his mouth. I knew this because I tried.

“My poppy, focus on my eyes, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” I assured him. “But I can listen better in bed.”

“We get in that bed, neither of us will be talking.”

“I’m down with that too,” I shared.

“I think I understand what you mean by that, and if I do, I can also assure you won’t be down with that in the morning.”

“I will,” I replied quickly. “I promise. Swear.”

“Maddie—”

I got up on my toes as close to him as I could.

He moved that inch away, which sucked.

I tried a different tactic and whispered, “It’s been over three years.”

“Gods,” he rumbled, the sound of that single word going through me in a way that I had to stifle a moan of pleasure.

“I need you, baby,” I pleaded.

“This isn’t right, my dove. You don’t know it now but you’ll thank me in the morning.”

“It’s right. It’s so right.” I pushed closer. “It’s been years, honey. I need your hands on me. Your mouth on me.”

“Maddie—” he started, the sound like a groan, spurring me on.

I held his eyes and framed his face with my hands as he was mine and whispered, “I need you.”

“You don’t, my dove. It’s the tea,” he whispered back.

I stared at him, my br**sts heavy, my breaths shallow, my sex saturated, every inch of my skin sensitized, and I thought, Fuck it.

I let him go and stepped back so he let me go.

I watched his hands fall to the sides and I took in all that was him.

There was a lot.

And all of it was good.

Then I pounced.

I landed on him with arms around his shoulders and curled my legs around his hips. Automatically, his hands went to my ass to catch me and a whimper slid up my throat at his touch as I slammed my mouth down on his.