Fairyville (Fairyville #1)(34)
Author: Emma Holly

The sensation almost tumbled into orgasm.

"My God, you’re sexy," he said, breaking free to gasp and lower her to the covers. Since every muscle she possessed was in the process of going limp, his timing couldn’t have been better.

He really was enough to make a woman lose her head, and Zoe was swiftly losing interest in keeping hers. Moaning, she thrust her hands into his thick black hair.

Her clutching him closer seemed to be his signal to advance. His right hand left her breast. She heard buttons popping and a zipper’s rasp—his zipper. He grunted as he worked to tear off his shirt and jeans without releasing her.

Her heart rate jumped into higher gear. The sound of him wrestling from his clothes had to be the best thing she’d heard all night.

Determined to meet him on the other side of naked, she wriggled out of her panties. He paused for a second when he realized what she was doing, then helped her pull them down her legs, his suckling now twice as strong as before. He was taking more of her in his mouth, was scraping her with the wider flat of his tongue.

Yes, she thought, arching helplessly toward him. This is more like it. She was on the edge again, so close to coming that the suspense was like a pre-climax.

The only problem was that her eagerness had discombobulated him. His funny yellow high-tops hung him up enough to curse against her breast. It seemed he’d forgotten to remove them before his jeans. Grinning at this sign that he was human and not a perfect sex machine, she slid one hand from its grip on his hair to his bare shoulder. She’d intended the caress to reassure Mm that he could take his time, but as soon as that smooth warm skin met her palm, she couldn’t resist touching more.

Oh, this was a good male back. This was shifting muscle and hardness. This was velvet skin and big, strong ribs that expanded to fill his lungs. She slid her fingertips down his spine with a purr of pleasure, stopping only when she reached the rounded muscles of his clenching butt.

She needed both hands to admire that.

"Zoe," he said with a throatiness that delighted her. "You’re distracting me."

"Mm," she said, not at all apologetic. "You feel so good."

She pulled his kiss up to her mouth again. He groaned when he obeyed her urging, his tongue tangling with hers, his hand moving down the length of her side. He’d been hovering over her, but now his palm flattened on the mattress as he eased his lower body down. Both his legs straddled one of hers, their hair and muscle a stark reminder of his maleness. She jerked when the heat of his erection met her thigh. He was naked. And huge. And throbbing like half his blood had run to his cock. He settled his balls against her carefully, and the intimacy of that one movement made her sigh blissfully.

"Oh, boy," she said. "Am I ready for you!"

His hand cruised up her body to mold her breast again, then changed direction to drag a trail of fire down her front. She could tell he was up against the edge of craziness with her. He was breathing like a steam train, and, God, his aura was strong. She felt like he was touching her even after his hand had passed.

Where his caress was headed was just as good. His fingers combed through her pubic curls, sliding deep between her legs to cover all her mound. That big hand of his was enough to make any female feel small. Maybe he liked the contrast, too, because first cupping squeeze drew a groan from him.

"You have no idea," he said, the words a match rasping on stone, "how long I’ve been ready for you."

His hand trembled when he said it, but he was lost in shadow above her. She wanted to believe him so much it hurt.

"Turn on the light," she said, giving in to the urge. "I need to see your face when you tell me something like that."

He hesitated, then reached past her for the bedside lamp. The bulb wasn’t bright, but he took a moment to lift his head. For a second, all that hit her was how freaking beautiful he was. And then she saw. His eyes were sheened with tears, honest-to-goodness, ready-to-spill-over tears.

He was telling the truth. He had been yearning for her.

A shock ran through her to see it, along with wonder that he could feel so much without her knowing it.

"Why?" she asked, her hand rising to his cheek. The bruise from his fall was fading, the skin around it only slightly hot. "Why would you wait so long to be with me if you felt like this?"

He closed his eyes. "Please don’t ask me that. Please just trust that I want you to be happy."

"Magnus…"

"Please." He kissed her, his lips as gentle as a dream on hers. His hand moved back to cup her pubis. The length of his fingers pressed just a little between her lips. Knowing how wet she was made this a tad embarrassing, but his hold felt oddly protective. "Please trust me."

She couldn’t trust him, not quite, but she also couldn’t turn away. If it was true… If he did care for her…

She gave her head a little shake. It would have been better if he hadn’t turned serious. She could have kept her guard up, could have stayed just a bit angry.

He’s going to break my heart, she thought, but she wrapped her arms around him anyway.

Quite possibly Magnus had been insane when he convinced himself to crash Zoe’s party. He’d spent an hour pacing down his house’s long window, fuming about her old boyfriend. Not once had he tried to calm himself. Not once had he asked the Will-Be for help. Decisions made under those conditions were bound to be rash, but he hadn’t given a damn. He couldn’t leave his beloved alone with two men, not when one of them was a changeling who knew more about what pleasured her than Magnus did.

Now he wondered what his rashness had gotten him into. Yes, it was wonderful to feel her hold him and to be spoken to sweetly again, but neither of these boons resolved anything.

The only promise he could give her was pleasure. The knowledge that she longed for more than pleasure nearly broke his heart. Of course, he couldn’t doubt she wanted what he could offer. Her body wept for it, the pearly sleekness running into his cupping palm. Praying physical gratification would be enough, he returned his mouth to her small, ripe br**sts—gentle, tender—and slid one careful finger into her channel.

She moaned for him, her spine rolling strongly with arousal, her h*ps coming up to drive him deeper. She was soft inside, was wet and swollen and tight. The feel of her was more than Magnus’s fairy instincts could tolerate. Swollen to its limit, pain speared through his c**k with its next hard throb. He clenched his jaw and ignored it. He couldn’t risk sliding inside her even for a minute; other parts of her, but not this, not with her so blessedly ready to love him, not with her precious heart swimming in her eyes. He would spill himself the instant she came, and from the hungry kitten noises she was making, that wasn’t going to be long.