The Magic Between Us (Faerie)

by Tammy Falkner

  “What are you doing?” she asked. But his hot breath already blew across her folds, and she was ready to beg him to touch her.

  “Since you did some exploring, I thought I might do the same,” he said. Then he spread her open with his thumbs. He looked up at her. “Did you make yourself come?” he asked.

  She squeezed her eyes closed tightly. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I want to watch you do that one day,” he said as he licked her from top to bottom.

  “You can watch me do anything you want,” she gasped as he bumped against the sensitive spot at the top of her sex. “Right there,” she said.

  “Show me what you like,” he said, reaching up and taking her hand. He pulled it down and placed it at the apex of her thighs.

  “Just touch me, Marcus,” she said. “Touch me before I go mad.”

  He slid one finger inside her and stopped. “Is that better?” he asked.

  “Marginally,” she gasped out.

  “Rub yourself,” Marcus commanded.

  “Give me more,” she pleaded. He pulled his finger from her and rimmed around the edge of her opening with it.

  “So pretty,” he breathed.

  “Marcus,” she pleaded, pushing against his hand.

  “I want to look around down here,” he teased. “Stop being in such a hurry.”

  “Marcus!” she cried. “You’re not supposed to be looking around down there.”

  “How else am I supposed to figure out how everything works?” He slid his fingers inside her, and this time, it must have been more than before, because she suddenly felt full. She stilled. “That worked,” he breathed.

  “Stop playing, Marcus,” she warned.

  “I was an innocent before you took my virginity, silly girl,” he teased. “I’m still learning, just like you.”

  He pressed her fingers, which still rested at the apex of her thighs, against her heat. “Show me how you rub it,” he said gently.

  She groaned into the side of her arm. She lay there naked, aside from her stockings, and his head was between her thighs and he wanted to map out her body parts from down below?

  Fine. She would show him how she liked it. She dipped a finger into her passage, her fingers sliding along his, and brought some of her moisture forward.

  “That’s an interesting tactic,” he said.

  “Makes it slippery,” she whispered, a grin tugging at her lips. This was so wicked. And if there was one thing she would never have expected to do in broad daylight with Marcus, it was explore her body.

  “Show me,” he pleaded, his voice sounding like it had been dragged down a gravel road and back.

  She circled her finger around that little nub, and Marcus groaned. “God, I love you,” he growled. “Don’t stop.”

  Marcus licked across the center of her, kissing her nether region the same way he kissed her mouth. He worshiped her with his teeth and tongue, and his fingers slid slowly in and out of her. He crooked his fingers inside her, and she reached for his head with her free hand, sliding her fingers into his hair.

  “Marcus, I’m close,” she warned.

  Marcus nudged at her hand with his nose, pushing it to the side as he continued to crook his fingers inside her. She ground her hips against his hand, pushing him deeper, making herself tighter. His lips replaced her finger as he uncovered the little nub that pulsed like mad with his thumb and bent to take it into his mouth. He suckled her, latching on to that swollen little spot with his mouth, abrading it with his teeth and tongue as he set a rhythm at one with the beat of her heart.

  “Marcus!” she cried. “Good God, Marcus.”

  And then she broke. She was so sensitive that she tried to move away from him so she could come apart slowly and carefully. But he would have none of that. He hooked his arms around her thighs and held on to her hips, refusing to let her get away. And as the waves crashed over her, he gave no quarter. Her body quaked, her channel convulsing in spasms of sheer pleasure. Her sheath clenched, and she desperately wanted it filled.

  “Marcus,” she groaned as he finally slowed his tongue and loosened the suction on that little button of fire between her legs. “Marcus,” she warned, pushing his head away, as he wouldn’t let the pleasure stop rolling over her, again and again. “No more. I can’t stand it.”

  ***

  Marcus wiped his face on the blanket by the inside of her thigh and then climbed up her body to look into her face. Her arms and legs were trembling, and her breaths rushed from her body. “I love you so much,” he said.

  “I’ll love you again when I can talk,” she heaved. But she was settling into the counterpane, soft as cotton.

  “I like learning about your body,” he said. She grinned, covering her face with her forearm.

  “Turnabout is fair play,” she warned. “When I catch my breath, I’m going to start exploring your body.”

  “I vaguely remember you getting a good look at my body last time.” He stood up and began to remove his clothes. There was something so erotic about her lying there on the blanket in full daylight completely naked. She didn’t try to hide herself from him. She didn’t try to roll into the counterpane. She lay there, exposed and needy, and she’d never looked more beautiful to him.

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. “You made me tell you all my secrets,” she grumbled.

  “And look where it got us. I got to find out how you like it, and I think we get better at this every time we do it.” He climbed on top of her naked, settling between her thighs. “I think we should practice, practice, and practice some more. We do have my mother’s permission.”

  “Ick,” she said. “Don’t bring up your mother right now, no matter how amazing she is.”

  She sat up on her elbows, and he sat down on the blanket beside her so he could pull his stockings from his feet.

  She rolled so that her head was on his thigh, and his manhood rocked toward her. “Goodness,” she teased. “Has a mind of its own, does it?”

  “Apparently,” he agreed.

  She arched a brow at him. “I want to kiss it,” she said. She looked up and met his gaze, her blue eyes hot in the moment, full of feeling and want.

  “I can’t believe you would suggest such an outlandish thing,” he teased. “What has gotten into you?”

  “Before we go back, I hope you’ll get into me,” she purred. Then she leaned forward and kissed him softly. Her lips were wet and cool, and it was a short kiss. One that left him wanting. His manhood jumped toward her lips.

  “Has a mind of its own,” he warned her.

  “I see that,” she laughed. She stuck her tongue out and licked around the purple crest, her tongue tentative and shy, probably as tentative as his had been while he learned her body. “Did you touch yourself when we were apart?” she asked, her voice a hot purr against his skin.

  “Only every single day,” he admitted. He’d had one day with her, and then she was gone. So, he’d relived that day over and over and over in his mind.

  “Show me what you do,” she said.

  “You’re doing just fine.”

  “You made me show you mine.”

  “And I might make you show me yours again,” he warned.

  “Show me,” she pleaded. Then her mouth closed around the crest of him. “You taste salty,” she said.

  “So did you,” he told her. He took her hand and wrapped it around his shaft, squeezing it within his own.

  “Like this?” she asked, but her mouth was full of him, the silky sweetness of her tongue nearly undoing him.

  “Yes,” he groaned. He put his hands in her hair and showed her how to very gently go up and down. “Take a little more,” he urged.

  She did, taking him farther into her mouth.

  “Stop,” he warned.

  “Why?” she asked, talking around him.

  Marcus lifted her under her arms and tossed her gently onto her back. “Not fair,” she complained, as he lay between her thighs and ente
red in one solid thrust, driving himself all the way into her, as far as he could go.

  Only once he was seated within her, his thighs firm against her bottom, did he stop. “Goodness,” she breathed.

  “Goodness,” he repeated. He pulled back and pushed into her, filling her full. She was warm and tight around him, like a silken glove fisting his manhood.

  “Deeper,” she urged.

  Good God, he loved this woman. The last time they’d done this, they’d both been terrified. But now it was like coming home. He pushed her legs forward toward her chest and pushed inside of her, his thrusts quick and deep.

  “Oh, Marcus!” she cried.

  Her breaths hit his cheek, her moans and sighs and whispers of pleasure jarring him with every thrust, wringing his own sounds of pleasure from him as he pushed in and out, in and out, in and out. She reached for him, drawing him closer to her, her legs still between them, and he went even deeper. The tilt of her bottom made it so that he could take every sweet inch of her.

  Marcus kissed the inside of her calf, closing his eyes to the sensation. Her head thrashed on the counterpane. “Marcus, Marcus, Marcus,” she chanted. “Please, Marcus!” she cried.

  With a great keening cry, she squeezed him in her tight grip, milking him with her pleasure. “Yes!” he cried, as he thrust through her climax, taking her higher and higher as she broke around him. And it wasn’t until she pleaded for him to take mercy on her that he finished. He erupted inside her, soaking her walls, pressing hard inside her as he let her legs fall to his sides. Her thighs wrapped around his hips as she squeezed him tightly.

  “Goodness, Marcus,” she breathed.

  Marcus couldn’t move. He just collapsed on top of her, and she ran her hands up and down his back.

  “Nothing could ever feel as good as you do when I’m inside you,” he breathed, kissing the side of her breast in a quick, affectionate move. He rolled from on top of her and drew her to lie on his shoulder.

  She looked around. “I keep feeling like someone is going to walk up and see us,” she said.

  “I doubt that many people can walk into paintings, Cece,” he said with a laugh. “But I’m willing to take the risk.”

  She settled on top of him, throwing one leg across his thighs. “What are you thinking about?” he asked as his breathing returned to normal.

  “I’m thinking about children we might have. The household we’ll keep. I’m thinking about our grandchildren. I’m thinking about all the missions we’ll go on together. I’m thinking about the good we can do.”

  “Hmm,” he hummed.

  “I’m thinking about what it’ll be like loving you for the rest of my life.”

  “Well, stop thinking about it,” he warned. “Because you couldn’t get rid of me now if you tried.”

  Twenty-One

  Marcus looked at the painting on the wall as he dressed and he grew hard all over again. It had been almost a sennight since their trip into the painting, and Marcus hadn’t been alone with Cecelia even once since then. Her father had hovered over her like a bee on a flower, keeping her from Marcus’s evil clutches. Or his wayward clutches. Or his lusty clutches.

  Either way, her father had kept her from Marcus’s clutches. The type made no matter, Marcus supposed. Even if his clutches had been honorable, which they weren’t, her father would have kept her from them. He supposed when he and Cecelia had their own children, he would feel much the same. And it was better for Cecelia to have a father who doted on her than the father she’d lived with for the previous six months.

  Claire had forced him to take the painting, claiming it wasn’t fit for her to look at anymore. He wanted it because he wanted to remember every minute he and Cecelia had spent wrapped up in one another. He wanted to relive every moment he was inside her. And he wanted to hear her whisper, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” again and again and again. He wanted to hear it every day for the rest of his life.

  A knock sounded on his door, and his heart leaped. Cecelia? No, she wouldn’t be so brazen as to come to his room. Not the way her father was hovering.

  “Enter,” he called.

  The door opened, and Allen stepped into the room. His brother brushed his hair from his face and sat down on a high-backed chair. “Something wrong?” Marcus asked.

  Allen crossed one ankle over his knee and looked at him. “Can I talk to you about something?”

  He smiled. “That depends. What’s it about?”

  He and Allen had never been close, and he’d met his brother just before he usurped his position in life, taking his potential title from him. Allen had been discomfited by him, but he’d taken it with grace. And he’d even been friendly from the start. He hadn’t held a grudge, and he had done all he could to help Marcus settle into the life of a darling of the ton.

  “It’s about the fae,” Allen said hesitantly.

  “What about them?” Marcus asked as he tied a knot in his cravat. He shrugged into his coat and sat down opposite Allen. Apparently, something weighed heavily on Allen’s mind.

  “Do you think they could ever accept me? I mean, truly?”

  Marcus didn’t understand. “Accept you as what?”

  Allen jumped up to pace. “As one of them, you dolt. As one of the fae. As one of you.” He let his hand sweep up and down through the air toward Marcus’s body.

  Marcus laid a hand on his chest. “But I am fae.”

  “And I’m not,” Allen bit out.

  “You’re half fae. Just as I am.”

  He showed Marcus the tip of his human ear. “But I don’t have any of the traits. I don’t have an ounce of magic within me. How could the world be so cruel?” His brother collapsed into the chair again, the side of his head falling to rest on his balled-up fist.

  “Your mother is fae. Your father is not. So, it’s not like you’re not of the fae. So, what’s your concern?”

  “It’s Ainsley,” he murmured.

  Marcus heard him, but he didn’t want to let him get away with murmuring about it. He cupped a hand around his ear and said, “I’m sorry. I missed that.”

  “It’s Ainsley, damn it all. I want to ask her to marry me.”

  “Well, I certainly hope you do, because the two of you have grown rather close.”

  His brother’s brows shot together and he said, “Not as close as you and Cecelia.”

  “Don’t speak of that,” Marcus warned. He would hate to punch his brother in the face, but if he said the wrong thing, he wouldn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t let anyone speak poorly of Cecelia. “What do you know of it, anyway?” Marcus said.

  “She talks to Ainsley,” Allen admitted.

  She did? About that? “What does she say?”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Bloody hell, Allen, of course it matters,” he growled.

  “Ainsley is jealous,” Allen said quietly.

  “Jealous of what?” What on earth did Ainsley have to be jealous of?

  “Of the intimacy between you two.”

  Oh, dear God, what had Cecelia said? “Be more specific.”

  “If I get more specific, you’ll try to punch me in the face.”

  That much was true. Marcus shrugged. “What do you want me to tell you?”

  “I want to go home with Ainsley. Well, I want to ask her to marry me and then go home with her. To live there. But I’m not like you.”

  “I don’t have wings, either, Allen,” Marcus reminded him. “Only the ladies have them.”

  “But you have magic.”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what magic you have for yourself. It’s what kind of magic you have with the person you love that will matter.” He looked hard at Allen. “Do you and Ainsley have that kind of magic? The kind where you think about her even when you’re not together. The kind where you want to do things and say things just to make her smile. The kind where you imagine her head on your pillow every day for the rest of your life.

  “The k
ind where everything that hurts her makes you bleed. The kind where your breath mingles with hers and you realize you couldn’t take another one unless she was guaranteed her next breath, too. Otherwise, you’d give yours to her. That’s the kind of magic you need, you dolt. Not the faerie-dust and pointy-ear kind.”

  “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” Allen said, smiling at him.

  “Magic isn’t what you think it is.”

  “I know she’ll have to go home soon, and I want her to take me with her.” He leaned forward. “I don’t want her to leave me.”

  Marcus laughed. “You do have it bad, don’t you?”

  “Am I doing the wrong thing?” Allen asked.

  “Why are you questioning this so much?” Marcus chided. “If you love the chit, marry her.”

  “You think she’ll have me?” He actually looked worried.

  “Knowing Ainsley, she’ll make you miserable for the rest of your life if you don’t marry her. You’re in trouble no matter how you look at it.”

  “When I’m with her…” He stopped talking and shook his head. “When I’m with her, nothing else matters.”

  “I always thought her tongue was a little too sharp,” Marcus complained.

  “Her tongue is just fine,” Allen said. Then he blushed profusely when he realized what he’d said. “I mean as far as what she says to me. I wasn’t referring to anything else. I wouldn’t know about anything else. Not with her.”

  His brother wasn’t an innocent. He’d brought women home in the night before. Marcus could hear them in his chambers at the house they shared in Town. Allen wasn’t like Marcus. Marcus had been in love with Cecelia since before he could walk. There had never been another woman for him. And there never would be.

  “Have you talked to her father?” Marcus asked.

  “Not yet. I plan to. I’d like to ask his permission to call on her.”

  “They’re not going to let you into the land of the fae unless you marry her. And they’re strict about human visitors even then. Things are changing in the land of the fae, but it’ll take time.” Marcus didn’t want Allen to get his hopes up too much.

  “There’s no chance the fae would take our children from us, just because I’m human, is there? They wouldn’t take them at birth, like they did you and Claire and Sophia?” Allen looked worried.