by Jen Katemi
My fingers curl into my palms in an attempt to stop myself reaching out to caress him.
Despite my stage persona being centered around oozing sexuality, I’m not actually too experienced myself in that regard. I can count on one hand the number of lovers I’ve actually had over the years, though I have definitely seen my share of impressive abs in the showbusiness industry. Many of those abs belong to men who prefer other men, which means I could look and joke comfortably with them, as they joked back with me in a safe way. A way that meant nothing other than a bit of simple theater-buddy camaraderie.
Nothing about Tarrien is safe. At least, that’s how I feel when I look at him. He seems completely unaware that every single inch of him calls to my woman bits in a way that is difficult to ignore.
What is it about him that causes this effect? Is it because he’s fae? Or is it just him, sexy as fuck and not even really aware of it? I think that latter fact is one of the things that makes him seem sexier than anyone I’ve ever known. The males in the industry in which I work—straight or gay—are fully aware of their effect on the people around them.
My breasts are achy and full, and my nipples harden as I imagine smooshing them against all that delectable hard muscle and silken skin.
I seriously hope his magic does not extend to reading lascivious thoughts, or if it does, that he has the decency to not delve too deep into my head. I risk a glance up at his face and realize his cheeks are as ruddy as mine feel. Is that because of my thoughts, or are his own heading in the same direction?
“Can you read minds?”
His brows slide upward.
“No.” After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can you?”
When I shake my head, he seems to relax a touch, and focuses his gaze somewhere over my shoulder. “I think perhaps I should dress, and then we can talk.”
“Good idea. Wait. I...don’t have any male clothing here.”
“That’s not an issue. I will return to my own apartment here in the city to fetch some.”
“You live here? I thought...”
“I live in Faerie, but I do keep an apartment in the human realm. It moves around with me, depending on where I am based at the time.”
“Oh. Sure.” An apartment that moves around? A lot has happened tonight, so I’m not sure why that fact in particular seems so hard for my brain to process.
Tarrien shrugs. “It will take only an instant. I will be back shortly.” He gestures to the ring that still decorates his thumb. “Fae magic infuses this. Handy little thing. Good for communication and travel.”
Wait. Was that an attempt at a joke? He disappears before I can read his features properly.
I flop onto the couch next to Lola. “Holy crap, girl. I need to get myself back under control before he returns.”
Lola groans and shifts, then resettles into her seemingly comatose state.
“Mmm. Thanks for the support, Lols.”
At least if he puts some clothing back on, we might be able to focus on the important stuff. You’re focusing on the important stuff right now, my mind teases. I lean my head against the back of the sofa, annoyed with my body’s response to Tarrien, and try some slow deep breathing. Calm. Calm. My mini-meditation doesn’t work. When I can’t get him out of my thoughts, I move instead to the kitchen area and busy myself making a hot drink before returning to the lounge.
This time, when Tarrien pops back in, he is fully clothed, though the tightness of his fresh tee-shirt and jeans does not do much to hide the impressive physique. Especially not now that I’ve practically seen it all and know what’s hidden underneath.
“I’ve made tea.” My tone is breathless, and I clear my throat. “Peppermint and standard. Do you drink it? Or would you prefer coffee?”
I indicate the tray on the coffee table as he takes a seat beside me. Hmm. This couch is very crowded with the three of us squished in together like this.
Silently, I will Lola to move so I can slide across. She raises her head briefly and blinks at me, then lays her head down again, ignoring my wordless plea.
“Peppermint, yes,” Tarrien says. “It will remind me of home. Thank you.”
He proceeds to pour and then sip from a fragile china cup, which he cradles in two large hands with surprising delicacy.
God. How can he even make sipping tea look sensual?
The only way to distract myself from the sexiness on my couch, is to focus back on the reason he’s here in the first place.
“Okay, Tarrien, time to talk. What is going on, and what the hell are we going to do about it?”
Chapter Four
Tarrien
When Indie stares at me with those amazing emerald eyes, I lose my train of thought. Why can I not stop fantasizing about ripping off her tee-shirt and those horrible track pants? The fact that she must have purposefully grabbed the most shapeless things from her closet does not hide the sexy curves of her body, nor the deliciously smooth pale skin on her neck that cries out to be kissed. Even her feet, bare and ruby-tipped with those perfectly manicured nails, scream sexy.
Control. I need to regain control of my runaway body, before it gets both of us into trouble. Remember your duties as a winter warrior.
My mind eventually finds its way back to consider her question. She wants to know what is going on, and what to do about it.
Just as I open my mouth to answer, the tip of her tongue darts out and moistens her lips and I lose focus once again. The heat of desire swells my loins and I shift uncomfortably, wondering if she knows the effect her proximity has on me. Why does this hybrid cause my brain to switch off and my cock to charge up to the ready as if plugged into an imaginary electrical socket?
If I were vampire—one of those descended from the blood of Dracule—I could perhaps understand it. The scent of hybrid fae is as delicious to a vamp as a drug of addiction. But I’m fae, not vampire. She’s half-human, half-fae. Her scent shouldn’t send every nerve ending in my body into raptures. Her delectable, exotic, slightly citrus scent that fills my nostrils and chases coherent thought away.
I release an involuntary groan.
“Tarrien.” Her voice whispers across my skin with the power of a true banshee. She might be only half-and-half, but this woman knows how to wield her influence. It is not so surprising, I guess, given how many years she must have trained for her role on stage. A trained singer, who holds the power of a banshee in her heart?
My breath huffs out shakily. How can I resist such a combination?
I lean in toward her. “You smell like home. Everything I love about home.”
Did those words just come out of my mouth? I sound ridiculous. Do I even care, though, when I am about to claim her as mine? I reach my fingers into her hair and clutch her head, steadying her to be ready for my onslaught.
“Home, here?” she whispers.
“No. Faerie.”
Something deep in her expression flickers. Something wounded and afraid. I hold myself motionless instead of going in for the kiss. She is trying hard not to show it, whatever it is, but there is more going on here than Indie is letting on.
“I intend to kiss you, Indie. But I won’t, if you do not wish it.”
She hesitates, worrying at her bottom lip with perfect white teeth. Just as I am about to release a disappointed sigh and pull away, she darts in and kisses me full on the mouth.
I forget everything but the feel of her lips on mine. Soft and sweet and yet demanding, all at once. Even though it was my intention to kiss her, the bold move takes me aback and it is several moments before I return the kiss.
When I do, it is as if everything around us disappears and we are the only two in the universe. I part her lips and taste her mouth, exploring her with my mouth and tongue, and allowing her to explore me in return. She tastes both sweet and enticing. Like her scent, there is a hint of citrus on her lips, underlaid with a sexy musk flavor that I sense is completely her own.
She releases a tiny moan that v
ibrates in her throat and carries upward until it enters me. The sound is so enticing it drags an answering groan from deep within me.
Her essence surrounds me. I am drowning in it. I cannot get enough.
Eventually, with apparent reluctance, she pulls back and away.
“That was...unexpected.” Her voice is breathless, her lips lush and full from our intense and prolonged connection. She touches a hand to her throat as if trying to contain the frantic beat of her heart. She can’t hide it. I can see its wild tattoo—the frenetic beat matching my own—until her other hand flutters up and over her throat too. The effect of our kiss on her pulse rate disappears from my view.
I push a stray lock of hair off her face, my fingers itching to explore more of her body.
“Unexpected and delightful. I am not overly familiar with...this, Indie.” I capture one of her hands and move it down to hover above my groin. “It is not often a winter warrior’s path in life to enjoy the fruits of the physical.”
Her fingers spasm in mine, the movement bringing her into contact, ever-so-lightly, with my burgeoning flesh. My breath hitches in my throat before I can control the response, and her eyes, when she raises her gaze to mine, are wide and a little confused.
“Please tell me you’re not a virgin, Tarrien.”
My cheeks heat. How is it that this woman creates heat everywhere, all the way from my cock to my face?
“Of course not. I have had many women, over the years, but I am four hundred and twenty-three years old, so the word many does not necessarily mean frequent.”
I cannot believe I am having this discussion. There are far more important things to talk about than my sexual prowess, or lack thereof.
Her beautiful wide mouth quirks in a grin. “Good. I don’t think I could cope with a virgin warrior. Nor a promiscuous one. Sounds like you have just the right amount of innocence and experience.”
Before I realize what is happening, her hand slips out of mine and cradles my cock in a clear invitation for more. The warmth of her touch leaches through my jeans and a strange noise escapes me before I can stifle it. Not quite a groan and not quite a growl; somewhere halfway between.
“Do not do that, banshee, unless you truly want it.”
“I do want it. I need it.” Her tone is fierce, and again I get the impression there is something she is leaving unsaid, but when her fingers spasm again I lose what little thought process I have left and lunge for her, crushing her body beneath mine and capturing her lips in another passionate kiss. This time, I am determined the kiss will be mine to claim, not the other way around.
Energy sizzles along every nerve path in my body and I groan again, deep down in my throat. She moans in return, a tiny sound that enters my body through our kiss, in a rush of sweet breath. The sound is all the more sensual for its quietness. Her tongue dances with mine and our lips move into a rhythm that directs all the blood in my body down into my groin. The heavy ache is almost unbearable. Lust is not supposed to feel as intense as this, is it? All heat and agony and ecstasy.
How can I possibly resist the lure of Indie’s warmth?
When at last we break apart, my breath rattles harshly in my throat. It is as if being near her has sucked all the air out of the room. I need more, so much more, than this. I need everything Indie has to give.
“I’m a winter warrior, sworn to maintain distance.” It is a token effort at resistance. We both know I don’t really mean it.
“Hmm,” she says playfully. “Then I’ll just have to melt that ice around your heart, won’t I?”
“I think you already have.”
I don’t care that I might compromise my duty. Not in this moment. I only care that she, too, is panting hard, her flutters of breath puffing out with every rasping exhale. I love that her state of excitement is solely due to me. I love that she seems to be as affected by our proximity as I am.
“I don’t know why, but I’m desperate to have sex with you.” Her voice is both puzzled and erotic, tempting in a way I never expected.
I cannot believe this beautiful, warm, passionate creature is Lady Renna’s daughter. The two could not be more different. I shuck that thought out of my head. I do not wish to think of that woman while this exotic beauty is offering herself to me like this.
“And I with you,” I respond, before either of us changes our mind. “It is not a good idea; I suspect we both know that. And yet I cannot seem to concentrate on anything but the thought of sinking my hardness into your warm, sweet body and taking you to the heights of pleasure and beyond. I want to make love with you, Indie.”
She smiles then, and stands up, holding out her hand for me to take.
“I love the quaint way you talk. Come into the bedroom, Tarrien. Let’s make love. That sounds so much nicer than simply having sex.”
My heart jumps, and kicks up the pace ten-fold. I take her proffered hand and allow her to lead me back into the bedroom. Her king-size bed dwarfs the tiny space, but I am not expecting to spend much time on the floor. She turns and faces me, and drops my hand so she can shuck off her old tee-shirt. Her naked breasts are as full and as spectacular as their sensual promise in her tight red dress when she was up on that stage, and my already-firm cock hardens even more.
Her gaze drifts downward and a seductive grin hovers about her lips.
“You’ve risen to the occasion very impressively.” Slowly, she starts to lower her tracksuit pants, wriggling her hips from side to side in a sensual striptease that takes far too much time to complete.
I arch a brow.
“I have a better technique than that,” I tease, and wave my hand. The remainder of her clothing, and mine, disappear into the ether. “That’s better. Don’t you think?”
The look of shock on her face lends an edge of joy to the situation.
“Well,” she says. “Well. That’s not a bad technique at all.”
We stand face to face, completely naked. She is utterly beautiful, all curves and pale skin and luscious long legs. Her mound is bare and I cannot take my eyes from it. That is, until she shifts backward and sits on the edge of the bed. The movement brings her breasts back into my focus.
A waft of her delicious scent floats over me and I inhale deeply, enjoying the way it makes me feel decadent and carefree.
My spirits lift. Carefree is not a state to which I am frequently accustomed. And it feels damn good.
I advance toward Indie and she lays down and raises her arms above her head. The action ensures I have an uninterrupted view of those beautiful breasts. Their rosy peaks are hard and pointing upward. I can’t wait to taste her flesh.
Then her legs drop, one to each side, opening up that perfect mound to fully expose the pink lips of her pussy, her swollen bud and the entrance to her channel. The sight almost brings me to climax, right there in front of her.
“By the gods, you are so incredibly sexy, Indie.” My voice is hoarse, but for once I do not care whether or not she can see the extent of her effect on me. I love that almost choked-up sensation that closes my throat as I imagine seating my ready flesh at her channel entrance and thrusting hard and deep within the tight embrace of her body.
But first, I have to taste her.
I kneel by the bed and she pushes her hips up toward me. I bend my head and connect with her pussy lips in the most intimate kiss in the world, sucking her bud into my mouth and swirling my tongue around it. I have never tasted anything more divine. I slide my tongue down her slit to find her channel entrance, dipping my tongue briefly inside her hot body and then out again, loving the slick wetness and the heat. She bucks beneath my mouth, moaning and gasping, and I return to attend her clitoris again, working it hard while I slide a finger gently inside her body.
She is as tight and wet as I imagined. I cannot wait to seat myself properly inside her.
Her bucking and writhing increases in tempo and around my finger I feel the tell-tale tightening and clenching of muscle wall as she nears climax. My own
body is fighting hard to maintain control. There is no ice left whatsoever around my heart in the melting pot of warmth that surrounds us. The heat in my groin is a furnace begging for release.
She begins to spasm as an orgasm takes her, and cries out in a guttural shriek as her channel clutches and releases around my thrusting finger. Her body shudders beneath me.
I climb up onto the bed and balance over her on my hands and knees, staring down into her eyes. They are half-closed in the aftermath of her release, and yet still the brilliant emerald color peeks out from beneath her lowered lashes. No hazel left. Passion has burned it all away and left the brilliance of a precious stone in its wake.
“I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you right this instant.” I bend my elbows and take one of her perfect breasts into my mouth, suckling on the puckered nipple until a tiny cry releases from her mouth.
“Oh yes, Tarrien. That feels so good. So good!”
I cross to her other breast and suckle some more, pinching the first nipple between my thumb and forefinger and twirling the nub as I lick and suck at the other one.
She reignites beneath me, moving more languorously this time round, and I lower my hips until the head of my organ grazes her clitoris. She arches up and into me, the action firming the connection and drawing a gasp from my own throat. She feels so warm and slick. Another of her hip thrusts ensues, and I can’t contain the groan that erupts.
“Gods, Indie. I want to be inside you so badly.”
“What are you waiting for, then?” Her breathing is harsh and uneven. Encouraged by another nudge upward with her hips, I slide my organ down her slit, enjoying the heat and the slick wetness, until I am exactly where I want to be, right at the entrance to her body.
I drive hard, sliding into her in one quick movement. It is as if our bodies are made for one another; we fit so well. Her pussy lips and the muscles deep within her channel grab tight. Her legs wrap around my buttocks and hold me fast. I bend and capture her mouth in a brief but passionate kiss, wondering if she enjoys the taste of herself on my lips, and then I cannot wait any longer. I begin to thrust in earnest.
