utterly still above me as if he were stone instead of flesh. It wasn’t his strength that gave his voice that thick sound. At least not strength of body.
Maybe strength of will.
I squeezed gently around his shaft, and he was hard, so terribly hard. His breathing changed, and I could see his stomach fluttering with the effort to stay steady above me. “How long has it been?” I asked.
“I don’t remember,” he said.
I stroked my hand up and over the head of him. His spine bowed downward, and he almost fell on top of me, but then his arms and legs went back to their firm stance. “I thought the sidhe did not lie.”
“I do not remember exactly, ” he said. His voice was breathy now.
I slid my other hand down to cup his balls and gently play with them.
He swallowed hard enough for me to hear it, and said, “If you keep doing that, I’ll go, and that’s not how I want to go the first time.”
I continued to play with him, gently. He was so hard, quiveringly hard. Just holding him in my hands, I knew that the phrase aching with need wasn’t merely words. He glowed and I could feel the power in him, but he did not throb with it the way the others did. It was a quieter power, this.
“What do you want the first time?” I asked, and my voice had gone deeper, thickening with the feel of him in my hands.
“I want to be inside you, between your legs—I want to make you come before I do. But I do not know if I still have that kind of discipline.”
“Then don’t be disciplined. This time, the first time, don’t worry about it.”
He shook his head, and the blue lines in his hair seemed to pulse brighter. “I want to bring you such pleasure that you will want me in your bed every night. So many men, Meredith, so many men in your bed. I don’t want to wait my turn. I want you to come to me again and again, because no one brings you as much pleasure as I do.”
A sound made us both turn our heads; we found Mistral kneeling beside us.
“Hurry up and finish this, Abeloec, or I will not wait to be second.”
“Would you not worry, as I do, that you pleasure the princess?” Abeloec asked.
“Unlike you, I’ll have no second chance here, Abeloec. The queen has decreed that this time is all I will ever have with the princess. So no, I am not so worried about my performance.” He ran his hand through my hair, pushing deep so that his fingers brushed my scalp. It made me cuddle my head against his hand. He closed his fingers into a fist, and was suddenly jerking my hair tight in his hand. It sped my pulse in my throat, tearing a sound from my mouth that was not pain. My skin blazed to white-hot life.
“We do not have to be gentle,” Mistral said. He leaned his face near mine.
“Do we, Princess?”
I whispered, “No.”
He pulled my hair tighter, and I cried out. I felt rather than saw some of the other men move toward us. Mistral pulled my hair tight again, bending my neck to one side, moving my body a little out from under Abeloec. “I am not hurting you, am I, Princess?”
“No.” All I could do was whisper.
“I don’t think they heard you,” he said. He twisted his hand tight and sudden in my hair. He put his lips against my cheek and whispered, “Scream for me.” The blue lines crawled from my skin to his, and again I saw that outline of lightning on his cheek.
I whispered, “What will you do, if I don’t scream?”
He kissed me, ever so gently against my cheek. “Hurt you.”
My breath came out in a shudder. “Please,” I sighed.
Mistral laughed, a wonderful deep laugh, with his face pressed against mine and his hand still tight in my hair. “Hurry, Abeloec, hurry, or we will have to fight to see who is first.” He let go of my hair so abruptly that this motion, too, hurt a little, and forced a sound from me. Mistral turned me back over to Abeloec with my eyes unfocused, and my breath either coming too fast or nearly stopping for a moment—I couldn’t quite tell. My pulse
Maybe strength of will.
I squeezed gently around his shaft, and he was hard, so terribly hard. His breathing changed, and I could see his stomach fluttering with the effort to stay steady above me. “How long has it been?” I asked.
“I don’t remember,” he said.
I stroked my hand up and over the head of him. His spine bowed downward, and he almost fell on top of me, but then his arms and legs went back to their firm stance. “I thought the sidhe did not lie.”
“I do not remember exactly, ” he said. His voice was breathy now.
I slid my other hand down to cup his balls and gently play with them.
He swallowed hard enough for me to hear it, and said, “If you keep doing that, I’ll go, and that’s not how I want to go the first time.”
I continued to play with him, gently. He was so hard, quiveringly hard. Just holding him in my hands, I knew that the phrase aching with need wasn’t merely words. He glowed and I could feel the power in him, but he did not throb with it the way the others did. It was a quieter power, this.
“What do you want the first time?” I asked, and my voice had gone deeper, thickening with the feel of him in my hands.
“I want to be inside you, between your legs—I want to make you come before I do. But I do not know if I still have that kind of discipline.”
“Then don’t be disciplined. This time, the first time, don’t worry about it.”
He shook his head, and the blue lines in his hair seemed to pulse brighter. “I want to bring you such pleasure that you will want me in your bed every night. So many men, Meredith, so many men in your bed. I don’t want to wait my turn. I want you to come to me again and again, because no one brings you as much pleasure as I do.”
A sound made us both turn our heads; we found Mistral kneeling beside us.
“Hurry up and finish this, Abeloec, or I will not wait to be second.”
“Would you not worry, as I do, that you pleasure the princess?” Abeloec asked.
“Unlike you, I’ll have no second chance here, Abeloec. The queen has decreed that this time is all I will ever have with the princess. So no, I am not so worried about my performance.” He ran his hand through my hair, pushing deep so that his fingers brushed my scalp. It made me cuddle my head against his hand. He closed his fingers into a fist, and was suddenly jerking my hair tight in his hand. It sped my pulse in my throat, tearing a sound from my mouth that was not pain. My skin blazed to white-hot life.
“We do not have to be gentle,” Mistral said. He leaned his face near mine.
“Do we, Princess?”
I whispered, “No.”
He pulled my hair tighter, and I cried out. I felt rather than saw some of the other men move toward us. Mistral pulled my hair tight again, bending my neck to one side, moving my body a little out from under Abeloec. “I am not hurting you, am I, Princess?”
“No.” All I could do was whisper.
“I don’t think they heard you,” he said. He twisted his hand tight and sudden in my hair. He put his lips against my cheek and whispered, “Scream for me.” The blue lines crawled from my skin to his, and again I saw that outline of lightning on his cheek.
I whispered, “What will you do, if I don’t scream?”
He kissed me, ever so gently against my cheek. “Hurt you.”
My breath came out in a shudder. “Please,” I sighed.
Mistral laughed, a wonderful deep laugh, with his face pressed against mine and his hand still tight in my hair. “Hurry, Abeloec, hurry, or we will have to fight to see who is first.” He let go of my hair so abruptly that this motion, too, hurt a little, and forced a sound from me. Mistral turned me back over to Abeloec with my eyes unfocused, and my breath either coming too fast or nearly stopping for a moment—I couldn’t quite tell. My pulse
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