Property of the Fae

by Laxmi Hariharan

  Whipping off the lid, he inhales.

  Delicious smells fill the room. Pepper, onion, garlic, spices. It’s only when my hand brushes against the island in the center of the room that I realize I have crossed the floor in pursuit of that scent. “It smells as good as you.” I slap my hand over my mouth. What the hell? I didn’t just say that, did I?

  He chuckles. A deep, rich sound that rolls over my skin and sinks smoothly down into my belly, where it coils, nestles, shudders.

  “Want a taste?” He dips a wooden spoon in the dish then turns and holds it out to.

  “Umm.” I frown. What’s he up to now? I don’t trust him. I don’t.

  “I am a chef first and foremost. Nothing delights me more than feeding someone’s appetite.” His eyes gleam.

  The man’s just too good at this innuendo thing.

  He brings the spoon to his lips then flicks out his tongue and licks the scooped end. Flames race down, straight to my belly. My thighs clench. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Oh, what the hell. It’s food. Only food. Delicious, gorgeous food cooked by a hunky, hot, totally alpha man. I am so screwed.

  I cross the floor and stand in front of him.

  My gaze is glued to his mouth. His lips curve up, then he brings the ladle to my lips. I lick it. Tastes explode on my tongue. Smoky like his eyes. Tangy like his scent. Tart like his bite. And how do I know that eh? I swallow down the mouthful of flavors, then don’t hold back the groan that wheezes out of me. “That’s…ah…that’s…” I try to come up with the right word to describe exactly what I had experienced and fail. My brain cells have all dissolved in the aftermath of that tsunami of taste.

  “Good, hmm?” He smirks again, looking so damn pleased with himself. And really, he deserves it, he does.

  I lick my lips. “That’s sex in a spoon right there.”

  He laughs then. A full laugh that rolls up from his belly and swells that massive chest. His tendons flex. His gorgeous lips curve in a smile. A real smile this time that shows off his symmetrical teeth. “Are all Fae as good-looking as you?”

  “You needn’t concern yourself with anyone else.”

  His voice is confident, his tone so damn dominant, that something in his tenor makes me want to obey him. I find myself nodding. Then stop and frown.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?” He turns to the saucepan and stirs, then switches off the stove.

  “Try to tell me what I can and can’t…do.” My voice creaks to a stop.

  The very fact that I am reacting to his command is what is giving him power over me. The very fact that I am challenging back is feeding the dominant in him. The thought of it sends a thrill down my spine, and that’s a surprise. I don’t want him to dominate me, do I? I want him to treat me as his equal, not… My thoughts bounce around in my head. There’s only one thing to do—surprise him.

  He plates out the pasta, then tops it off with the sauce. Turning, he makes for the table and sits at it. He places the plate in front of him, then pats his lap.

  I narrow my gaze on him.

  “I thought we’d better establish the rules here, shouldn't we, Fire?” He twirls some of the pasta onto his fork. He holds it up to his mouth, then stops. “Want some?”

  Yes. I shake my head.

  He brings the fork up to his nose and sniffs. A groan reverberates up his chest. “So good, Fire.”

  Is he talking about food or something else?

  He moves the fork to his mouth then curves his lips around the food. He closes his eyes as he chews, absorbing the flavor, eating it as if it is his last meal, and holy hell, goosebumps rise on my skin. He swallows and the cords of his throat move.

  My mouth goes dry.

  His eyelids flicker open, revealing eyes heavy with hunger, with satisfaction. Can two such contradictory emotions exist in the same space?

  My stomach rumbles.

  The sound seems to echo around the kitchen.

  “All you have to do is come here and do as I tell you and you can have anything you want.” He licks his lips; his eyes spark. "Anything, Fire."

  The innuendo in his words is not lost on me. Anger spikes my blood. My pulse thuds. I stomp over to him then stop next to his chair. I am about to drop into the one next to him when he clicks his tongue.

  “Huh?” I frown.

  He angles his head, and his gaze drops to his lap.

  My gaze widens, “I am not going to do that.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “No way,” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “We'll see.” He scoops up another forkful of pasta, then holds it up to me.

  I lower my head, and he pulls back his hand. I follow. He pushes back his chair just an inch. I sidle around his knee into the V between his legs, then drop down on his lap. He holds up his fork, and I open my mouth when he clicks his tongue again.

  “Didn’t say you could eat it yet, Fire.”

  “What the fuck?” I snarl.

  “Nor did I say that you could swear.”

  “I am not your…your—” Anger presses down on my chest, and blood thuds in my ears.

  “What?” He widens his gaze. All innocent.

  The man knows exactly what I am trying to say, and he is going to have me spell it out for him.

  “Tell me, Fire, who are you to me?”

  “Your property.”

  12

  Tristan

  Her words send a visceral thrill racing down my spine. She stares at me, her chest heaving. Her beautiful breasts shudder with the force of the emotion that grips her. Frustration laced with arousal.

  My nostrils flare, and that sugary sweet scent of just how turned on she is not lost on me.

  Her pupils dilate, sparks flaring in those golden depths.

  My canines lengthen, grazing my lower lips. No, not yet. I cannot let on just how much her nearness turns me on. The thought of having her under me, as I bury myself balls deep in her and knot her…no. What am I thinking? I am treating her as I would my mate. Which she isn’t. She is someone I’ve wanted to own from the time I set eyes on her.

  Someone who belongs to me.

  Someone who’s challenged me from the beginning. Who’s got under my skin, crawled into my blood, in my head. Someone who is… “Mine,” I growl out the word.

  The color fades from her cheeks. She opens her mouth to speak, and I shake my head.

  She snaps her teeth together. The skin stretches tightly over her jawline.

  “You’ll do as I tell you to, Fire. You’ll eat when I tell you to, dress as I want you to. Stay where I tell you to be. You understand that now, don’t you?”

  Her chest heaves. She straightens her shoulders, then nods.

  “Good girl.” The breath rushes out of me.

  Her eyes flare with hidden emotions, swirls of amber that flare up and spark. So fucking feisty. So hot. The gorgeous shifter who is all mine.

  I raise the fork with the pasta twirled around it to her lips. She opens her mouth, wraps her lips around the tines, and swirls the threads around her tongue.

  “Beautiful.” My voice hitches. It fucking hitches. That’s what Fire does to me. She consumes me whole. Makes me weak in my knees. Makes me the luckiest man alive, for she belongs to me. A pulse beats to life at my temple.

  Her eyes flutter shut; she chews and swallows, then makes that low humming noise in her throat that sinks straight into my blood. My dick twitches.

  I ignore it.

  Not that it’s going to do any good. That particular part of my body has a different muscle memory where she is concerned.

  I twine more pasta around the fork then offer it to her.

  She curves her lips around it, and this time her gaze holds mine. She slurps up the strands and chews. Her pupils dilate. Her eyelids lower, but she doesn’t close her eyes fully, not this time. She savors the taste, chews, and swallows.

  Her gaze falls to the plate again.

  I scoop up more pasta and feed her. All
the while her gaze doesn’t leave my face. Her breathing goes erratic.

  A beat of sweat slithers down my temple. My heart races. More pulse points flare to life, at the base of my neck, at my wrists, behind my knees…I swear my dick throbs in tune.

  My entire body is one fucking pulse point.

  I am falling into some kind of hypnotic daze. My entire being is focused on her. Her lips, her mouth, the little dimple at the edge of her lips that flashes as she chews. The angle of her chin. The pristine column of her throat. I can’t take my eyes off her. Everything in me wants to yank her to me, to kiss her, right before I spread her over the table, shove her legs apart, and sink my aching cock inside her warm sweetness. My balls grow heavy until I am sure they are going to burst. I lay my fork down on the empty plate. “All done.”

  My voice sounds hollow.

  That’s what I have become, someone who resorts to inane conversation because, well…because Fire has reduced me to someone who's incapable of stringing two coherent thoughts together.

  I grip her waist then tug so she comes up to stand between my legs. Those luscious globules of her breasts are at the exact height as my mouth.

  “What about you?” Her voice comes out husky, and she clears her throat.

  “Hmm?” I trace the curve of her flesh with my eyes. Those rich, dark areolae. The upward sweep of her nipples that harden as I stare at them.

  “Dinner. You didn’t eat anything yet.”

  “I am not going to starve.” I can’t stop my lips from widening into what I know is not a very pleasant smile. I probably look feral. Too bad. This is what I am. Wild. Unfettered. Someone who can’t be controlled, certainly not by Fire. Absolutely not by any woman. Nope.

  “Oh?” She swallows. Fear…anticipation rolls off her, and her chin wobbles. “What are you going to eat?”

  I drop my chin toward her breast. “This.”

  13

  Jess

  His mouth closes over my nipple, his tongue swirls around the hardened flesh, and he sucks. I feel the tug all way the way to my belly. My thighs squeeze together. An intense emptiness yawns inside me, growing by the second. A gaping nothingness that yearns to be filled. I want, need something more. His teeth grace my nipple, and I groan. I want to bring my hands up and urge his head closer to my chest.

  I try to move and find I can’t.

  It’s as if my mind has gone into lockdown.

  I am waiting for his permission, for him to tell me what he wants me to do next.

  Just a few hours with him and already he’s trained me to follow his commands. I should be angry. I should be raging that I am allowing him to treat me as his. His property. His to own, to play with. To take, to break.

  My belly flutters.

  Moisture pools between my legs. I chafe my thighs together, clamping them close, not wanting him to know just how much his suckling is turning me on.

  I look down and see his dark head fused to my breast.

  The sucking noise he makes as he hollows his cheeks and suckles at my breast does funny things to me. My throat closes.

  I feel almost maternal toward this man in that second, and isn’t that insane?

  He swirls his tongue around my nipple again. Heat floods my chest.

  He angles his head and pulls my nipple deep inside the warmth of his mouth. A pulse flares to life between my legs.

  His hand cups my other breast. My shoulders jerk.

  He squeezes the flesh, and a groan tears out of me. My head falls back, the motion pushing my chest forward, pushing my nipple farther into his mouth. He pinches my nipple, and I see stars. Flashes of color explode behind my eyes.

  My knees quake and I find myself sinking toward the floor. Only he loops his other arm around my waist and yanks me close. I am surrounded by him. “I am still hungry, Fire.” The tendons of his throat flex.

  There’s a look in his eyes. Part yearning, part tormented. And I don’t understand it. He can have me any way he wants. He’s told me again and again that he is dominant. That I must do as he says, yet he seems to be asking me for something. For some kind of permission?

  “What?” My chin wobbles. Pinpricks of anticipation jolt my skin. I force out the rest of the words. “What do you want me to do?”

  Color flushes his cheeks. “Do you know what it does to me when you ask me that?” His voice is strained. His gaze is more intense than anything it’s ever been before. I mean clearly, this guy doesn’t do anything by half measures. Big surprise.

  “Do you, Fire?” A pulse tics to life at his jaw.

  “N…no.”

  “It makes me want to ask you to give in to all your deepest desires.”

  “Huh?” I frown. “You mean to give in to all your desires, right?”

  He peels back his lips, and his canines drop. There is no mistaking the intent in his gaze. “This is all about you, Fire, haven’t you got that yet?”

  I blink. “You’d better explain what you mean.”

  “You want something, yet you hesitate to speak up. Hence in this relationship, you don’t need to. I absolve you of the need to ask for anything.”

  “What, now you are a mind reader?” I swallow.

  “I know what your deepest desires are, and I am going to fulfill them.”

  “You really are not making any sense, you know that?”

  “But then I don’t need to. You know what I am going to do to you next, don’t you, Fire?”

  “N…no.” My heart stutters. The fine hair on my nape rises. And why is my body going into this fight or flight mode? My instinct seems to be one step ahead of me here.

  “Do it, Fire, you know you want it. Let me give you what you need.”

  Damn alpha fae. Knows exactly how to turn my insides into one melting, gooey mess. Knows that I have a damn good idea what he wants from me, too. Question is, am I going to obey him?

  “Please?” He says the word on a soft whoosh of his breath.

  My throat closes.

  Not what I expected.

  Really not.

  He angles his head, and those blue eyes flare at me. Their color lightens and I realize how mistaken I'd been. They do not resemble sapphires, but diamonds. Hard, unforgiving diamonds that will cut me up in shreds and grind me to dust. I take a step back from him, and he lets me go.

  My back hits the table; I dig my toes into the floor.

  He goes still. Just watches me from under hooded eyes, all emotion gone from his face. The tips of his ears extend. No… I am mistaken again. There’s a mass of emotion churning, boiling under his skin. It’s tearing him apart inside. He’s waiting, waiting for me to follow his lead.

  I push aside the plate. Then place one foot on the chair between his legs, and hoist myself up on the table in front of him.

  I raise my foot over his leg, then the other. Placing the balls of my feet on the edge of the chair, I hook my toes under the bulk of his thighs.

  His nostrils flare.

  I sway back on my elbows, not taking my gaze off his face. All the muscles of his shoulders go solid.

  I spread my legs and the tendons of his throat move. His gaze narrows.

  “Have I satisfied your appetite, Chef?”

  His lips twist, and a snarl rips from him.

  His chest muscles seem to expand; a vein throbs at his temple. I’ve only heard of the barbaric habits of the Fae when it comes to fucking—and that's all it is between us. Sex. And clearly there is more than a grain of truth in them—yet I don’t feel afraid.

  My belly tenses, and my thighs strain. Every molecule in my body seems to be waiting…waiting for something. I know what it is but damn if I am going to admit it to myself.

  “I’ll let you know, after.” All expression is shorn from his face.

  “After?”

  Before the word is out of my mouth, he moves. His actions are so fast that he blurs. He hooks an arm under each of my knees, spreads me wide apart, then drops his head between my legs.

  14r />
  Tristan

  Heat. Lust. The scent of cherry and pepper. Her rich taste fills my mouth. She’s all the most delicate spices combined together to form a unique flavor: one I have never sampled before and yet it’s so familiar. She feels like home. All my senses pop. I thrust my tongue inside her wet channel, and she screams.

  I hadn’t meant to do that

  Had meant to simply tease her, pleasure her.

  Now when I am fucking her with my tongue…no, it’s more than that. This is…heaven. O-kay. I am getting poetic now. And I only reserve these adjectives for food, for the meals I cook. A way of replenishing your body, your spirit. This is something more. This…right here, the flavor of her cunt, is my soul food. I am well and truly fucked.

  I squeeze the plump globes of her hips, and she shudders.

  I bend closer, angling her up, pressing my nose into her clit. She slaps the table with her fist, then thrusts her pelvis up and into my face. Her arousal bursts in the air around me. Sweet, spicy, sugary. Caramel with a pinch of salt. Yes, that’s what it is. She’s spoiled me for any other taste. I plunge my tongue inside her, in and out. And again.

  The evidence of her arousal, of just how wet she is for me coats my lips. Moisture drips from her and down my chin. I am drowning in her essence. And yet it’s not enough. More. Much more.

  I swirl my tongue, scraping the walls of her channel.

  She moans.

  The sound of her need echoes in my ears, thuds in my blood, and I can’t hold back. Dragging my tongue over her pussy, I suck on her clit. A whine bleeds out of her. Hot. Yearning. It fills my chest. I bite down on the nub of her clit, and she shatters.

  Moisture gushes from her; her spine arches off the table.

  Her thighs strain against my hold, her muscles quiver, and she screams, “Tristan.”

  The sound of her voce calling out my name sends me over the edge. My balls draw up. My cock hardens until I am sure I am going to come right here. I let go of her and grab my dick, squeezing it to hold myself down. Control. Restraint. What’s that anyway? It’s all overrated. I have no restraint left where Fire is concerned. Her essence rages through my blood, setting every part of me alight with longing. Need. I fucking own this woman now and I am never letting her go.