Ronan

Ronan

This human creature was just the thing I needed to keep my mind off Sebarah.

She arrived in my lap like a tomcat, wriggling and moving in a most distracting way.

Everything she said or did made me harden. That dress was sexy as hell—one point for the dick. Her mouth was sassy as hell—another point for the dick. And she bit my lip hard enough to make me wince—game set and match to the dick.

Her kiss was urgent and hungry, and I wondered how long it had been for her. My desire met hers like two starving beasts ravaging each other, and I lost myself in her lips and tongue for long moments.

I came here to drink away my sadness, which had never once worked in the six months I’d been trying it. But screwing away my grief might be what I needed. Maybe a good mood would stick with me for longer than five minutes.

This creature’s startling mismatched eyes and hair were so distracting, as was her constant wiggling and moving like she had too much energy to be still. I’d heard humans were like that, lacking the stillness and grace of fae, and I always imagined it would make them seem animalistic and stupid, but that couldn’t be more wrong.

This human female was urgent and febrile, demanding every ounce of my attention.

She sat sideways on my lap, one arm slung over my shoulders, her hand clamped behind my neck, pulling me close.

Her leg splayed across my crotch, and it was hard to think of anything apart from how it pressed onto my cock.

I briefly broke away from the kiss to murmur, “Why don’t we get to know each other better?” I wanted to fuck this woman more than I’d ever wanted anything. I longed to sink hilt deep inside her and let her writhe and squirm on my lap. I needed it.

She bit my upper lip, pulsing desire down to the soles of my feet. “I’ve got a better idea.”

“Mmm?” My gaze was locked on her soft full mouth.

She licked her lips. “Let’s not.” She slammed against me, claiming me in a bruising kiss, then she stood up, her heat suddenly gone.

I growled and reached out to pull her down to my lap until I realized what she was doing. She wriggled out of her panties and let them drop to the floor, swishing her hips suggestively, then she turned around and looked down at my straining erection. “You too,” she instructed. I undid my button and fly and pulled down my boxers, and my cock sprang up.

“Fuck, you could hurt someone with that,” she said.

“Oh, I plan to,” I growled, grabbing her hips, twisting her around and pulling her down onto me. She flicked up the back of her dress as she sat, aiming her soft wet pussy directly onto my throbbing length.

Fuck, she felt good. Soft, tight, wet, and like every one of my sexiest dreams rolled into one.

She squirmed and writhed, and every movement made me want to explode. I hadn’t come early since I was a teenager, but I was in serious danger with his intoxicating female dancing on my lap.

She rode me up and down, up and down, until I had to squeeze my fingers into her hip bones to stop her…although I sensed nothing could really stop this creature.

She leaned her back against my chest, her blonde hair tickling my face. I stilled her and muttered into her ear, drinking in her foreign, human scent. “What’s your name?”

“I already told you I don’t want small talk,” she breathed. She ground out a slight circle with her hips, and I nearly blew my top.

We were in a shadowy corner of the bar, and it was a Wednesday night so only a couple of other fae were about. I glanced at them, suddenly aware that we were grinding in a public bar, but nobody had noticed.

I flattened my hand against her belly, pulling her tight and keeping her firmly in place. I had to distract myself. “Have you been in Verda long?”

“Mm.” She ground out another tiny circle, and I fisted her short hair to keep her still.

I slid my other hand around her hip and over her smooth thigh, under her dress, and pushed over her mound to her clit. Her moan when I played with it was drugging. I could come from that sound alone. Holy hell, this woman didn’t have fae curves or grace, but her muscles were taut with pleasure, and she was a package of energy and sexuality, and I couldn’t get enough.

Her clit was divine, a bundle of nerves that sang under my touch. She arched her back into me, and I let her ride me again as I fingered her, allowing the sexual torment inside me to grow and bloom and blossom. Her movements grew wilder, and her moans crescendoed to an alarmingly non-public volume.

She threw back her head and clocked me in the chin as her pussy clamped around me, spasming powerfully and pulling my own orgasm from me.

We shuddered together. I kept my fingers on her clit as she rode out the waves of her climax, holding her tight against my chest and wanting to keep her there. Finally, she lay in perfect stillness, pressed against me, and I hoped the moment would last.

But it passed. Movements crept into her muscles, and she wriggled then stood up, moving away from me.

I watched her pull on her panties then throw back another shot of Fae Fizz.

She slumped into the seat beside me, and I patted my lap. “This seat’s still open if you want it.”

She laughed like I was joking, which I wasn’t. “Thanks, that was nice.”

I frowned. “That was the opposite of nice. That was the best fucking sex I’ve ever had,” I corrected her.

She flashed me a sexy grin, and I was startled at her clear blue eyes that contrasted so eerily with her white blonde hair. Her smile was like a tractor beam, locking me in. “Yeah, it was pretty good. Even better than mangoes.”

She stood up slowly as though reluctant to leave, and I didn’t want her to. For once, my good mood hadn’t dissolved, hadn’t disappeared after three minutes, even when I thought of Sebarah. Unlike most times I tried screwing away my grief, it hadn’t come flooding back after I splattered my cum.

This time was different. I felt oddly at peace with Seb’s death and crazily infatuated with this human woman. “Don’t go.” The words escaped my lips before I could stop them. I was not a male who begged, that was for damn sure. It was the other way around. Females were supposed to chase me…females did chase me, often with gifts of creepy soiled underwear…I didn’t chase them.

She hitched a shoulder. “Gotta go. People to see, places to be, you know.” She paused, watching me carefully as though delaying her departure. “What’s your number?”

My brow creased. “My number? Like my favorite number? Eight, I guess.”

She looked at me and then burst into laughter, sending waves of joy through the room. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

So now she wanted small talk? I folded my arms across my chest, showing off my biceps. “You really don’t know who I am? How long did you say you’d been here?”

She bit her lip, and I wished she was biting mine instead. “Forever,” she finally said.

Then she left. She just fucking left, walked out the door without begging for more, which made zero sense. Nobody ever abandoned me after sex. Never. I was the asshole who ran.

But somehow, I wasn’t annoyed. My happy mood hung around like the scent of lavender in a purple field, clinging to my clothes and skin even as I watched her walk away.