CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It is the greatest torture I have ever faced, to have my bride offer herself to me, when I should not act upon it. By the goddess, my mouth waters at the smell of the Faerie Fruit, at the promise of thoughtless pleasure it offers. Tales are still told of the week-long parties the elves threw in Avalon, of the sheer debauchery brought on by sprite magic more potent than any alcohol.

But if I taste the Faerie Fruit, I won't be able to stop myself from claiming Taylor, from knotting her and making her fully mine. She asks for an easy release, but all my cock wants to offer is forever.

Yet I'm no saint. I rub my seed into her skin to stoke her desire higher. And to make her smell like me. I breathe deep, the combined scent of her arousal mixed with my fluids combining into a heady blend that resonates through me. Mine.

She does not love me yet, not as I love her, with the steady knowledge that the goddess wills this to be. Therefore, I will also take this opportunity to prove how much pleasure I can offer my bride, to woo her fully.

A bewitching scrap of purple lace hides her sex from sight, but its soft stretchiness does nothing to stop my hand. I slip my fingers between her legs, teasing along her folds. Her skin's so soft, already bathed with a bewitching wetness that makes me long to rip her clothes from her and plunge my tongue deep inside her.

Every time I move my hand, she makes these little whimpers, soft breathy sounds that shoot straight to my cock.

I tease to either side of the sensitive spot at the top of her sex, and she writhes against me, trying to get me to touch her there. I pinch my fingers together, squeezing it from either side with just enough pressure to make her gasp. Then my fingertips flutter over her entrance, gliding over the wet heat that calls to me with its siren promise of pleasure.

"You're so wet," I groan. "You're such a good girl for me."

The words make her even wilder. I love her reaction, and my own—my cock pulses with lust, my balls tightening. Who knew praise—the thing denied me my whole life—would be so heady to offer to another? But it is. It only makes me want her more.

Taylor nods and shoves her hips down, trying to force me inside.

But not yet. I slide my finger up over the tight pearl waiting at the top of her sex.

Her whole body tightens, her back arching like a tightly plucked string. My bride shudders and screams her orgasm to the heavens.

"That's it," I growl. "That's my good girl, coming so prettily for me."

In that moment, I'm lost, fully hers. The high, sweet sound of her pleasure pierces my heart. I want nothing more than to make her sing her song of delight again and again for all my days.

Starting now.

The sugary scent of the magicked blackberries teases my nose, offering all the thrill of intoxication with none of the hangover. But humans react more strongly than fae. If I remember the old stories correctly, there are only two ways to break the wild ecstasy of Faerie Fruit's spell. The human either dances until they drop from exhaustion…

Or they orgasm several times.

My hand dives back into my pants, scooping up more of the orc seed that flows from my erection. I smear it down Taylor's front, shoving my fingers into the confines of her clothes, wanting them gone yet not wanting to stop long enough to take them off. Not that she would let me—the Faerie Fruit has her now. My bride needs a constant supply of pleasure.

She hisses as the aphrodisiac grips her anew. Her small hands fist in the shoulders of my shirt, and determination flashes across her face. Taylor undulates on my hand, bearing down with all her wealth of enthusiasm.

"Yes. Good girl," I grit out. "That's it. Ride me. Ride me to your pleasure."

Denying my own greedy cock has never been as difficult as now, yet I wouldn't give up a second of touching her. I palm her sex, letting her grind her sensitive pearl on the heel of my hand as I indulge both of us and slip a finger inside her.

Wet heat engulfs me, her muscles clamping tight, and it's my turn to moan. "Fuck, you're so tight."

She tips over the edge, her inner walls fluttering around me in the most intoxicating of dances. Keening, my moon bound collapses forward, panting against my neck. It takes several seconds, but the ragged sounds of her breath turn into little demands of "More."

Who am I to deny her?

Bracing my feet, I adjust my grip on her thigh, wishing I had both hands free but unable to take the time to do anything about it. The fruit's spell has not yet let her go. I can still feel the extra layer of magic dancing through her.

I slide a second finger into her, and she's so tight it's only possible because of her slick wetness and previous orgasms.

My bride straightens, and her whole body freezes, her mouth dropping open into a perfect O. She shivers, and I hold still, letting her adjust to the stretch.

"Do you feel this?" I slip both fingers forward. "These aren't as big as my cock. Can you imagine it inside you?"

"Oh, god," she whimpers. "Oh, yes."

"I'm going to fill you so full you won't be able to think of anything else ever again but my cock." I pull my fingers out by an inch. "Mine."

Then I shove them deep into the hot velvet of her core, working them in and out of her, the tips curled upward. When I find the spot that makes her gasp, I make sure to brush over it again and again.

Her gasps change to breathy little moans of, "Yes. Yes, yours," and my cock leaps against the confines of my leather pants at each one, pulsing in time with her need.

I press both fingers to that special place and rub them over it, hard. "Come for me," I command. "Come for me like the good girl you are."

And she does, shattering around my fingers with a wail of delight as her entire body shakes in a prolonged orgasm that goes on and on until she collapses against me in limp exhaustion.

Her final pleasure unravels the last of the Faerie Fruit spell, and it dissipates into the air with one final burst of sweetness.

Taylor's legs lose their grip on my waist, and I slip my hand free of her clothes to hold her to me.

Even though some small warrior part of me remained aware of our surroundings throughout, the rest of the world rushes back in. The sun dips to the horizon, cresting the tops of the western trees. A cool breeze carries away the last of the intense fruit smell.

The sprites lull drunkenly on the blackberry bush, too caught up in eating the last of the fruit to bother us further. Their magic affects them, but more as a simple intoxicant.

Storm grazes at the far side of the clearing, his back to us, offering us what privacy he can while still staying close enough to act as a guard. He turns his head now, spearing me with a blue eye, and I offer him a nod of thanks.

Mist doesn't appear to be back yet, and it's a blessing, as I have little desire to be teased by her knowing looks.

I walk over to Storm. Inside the tree line stands a clear space large enough for the tent but still offering some cover from easy sight. I set my bride down on a soft patch of moss and make camp quickly, erecting the tent and covering the floor with my furs.

When I lay Taylor on them, she stirs, her hand reaching out to brush over the erection still straining the front of my pants. The combined scent of her arousal and my seed fills the tent, and her touch makes me hiss between clenched teeth.

"You," she whispers, as if the one word says everything she needs. "You."

My teeth grind together, every muscle of my body straining toward her. But I will not take her—not under these conditions when she's not fully herself.

Yet I'm no saint. I can deny myself no longer—I will have my release.

The tent's never seemed so small as I back as far away as possible from temptation and lay down facing Taylor, who rolls onto her side toward me.

As big and green as the rest of my body, my cock leaps forward as I tug the laces of my pants loose, eager and straining. Watching my moon bound break on my fingers had been the most erotic sight of my life, and it's desperately hard.

When I wrap my hand around it, the jolt of delayed pleasure is so great I almost come there and then. I grit my teeth, holding onto the frayed threads of my control. I will woo her with what I can do, prove I'm a lover with stamina. Even if it kills me, and goddess, it feels like it might. A wash of orc seed leaks from the tip, and I slick it down my length, my fingers bumping over the barbell piercings on the underside with little jolts of sensation.

My bride's beautiful brown eyes widen. "Oh. My. God. You're pierced!"

"I earned my main piercings the day I completed my initial warrior training as a teen." I give a strong tug, grunting at the feel of it. "Upon turning eighteen, I studied how to pleasure a woman and earned my stud."

It activates at her nearness. The round ball of metal mounted right above my cock shivers, and flickers of blue chase over the silver surface as its magic begins to work. The metal grows pliable, reaching toward her.

"What's it doing?" Her eyes latch onto it.

"It's trying to discover what your sensitive pearl likes best, so it can do it when I'm buried inside you." The tip of the reaching tentacle forms a little ball, and it vibrates, the sensation traveling back down to me and straight to my balls, which tighten. My hips jerk forward as a moan escapes my lips.

She gasps, her face flushing with color. While my bride watches me with enraptured eyes, I bring the fingers I buried inside her to my mouth and lick, relishing her taste, sweet and salt and female and mine.

"By the goddess, you taste divine," I groan and fist my cock harder with my other hand. Each tug pulls on the piercings, adding an extra layer to my excitement, and I'm so aroused creamy fluid flows continuously.

But what really stokes my desire is the way her eyes feast on my erection, her lips opening into an O of want. Fuck, I want to shove the thick head of my cock between them, feel her tongue work on me the way it licks her lips. I want to make her drink my orc seed straight from the source until she begs me to take her.

Her little hand drifts down her body. I wore her out, wrung every orgasm possible from her small human frame until I felt the Faerie-Fruit spell slip from her. So whatever's happening now is purely Taylor.

My cock leaps at the thought, jerking in my hand.

She truly does want me.

I knew she must on some level. Faerie Fruit cannot make you feel something false—it simply unlocks and heightens what's already there.

But to see her lust for me once free of the fruit's influence… That's far headier than any spell.

My hand speeds up as she begins to pleasure herself, her little fingers busy under the stretched purple lace.

"I'm going to lick you there until you scream my name. Then I'll lick you some more."

She shudders, her pink lips opening as she sucks in huge gulps of breath.

"Then I'm going to put that pretty little mouth of yours to work." I grunt and grip harder as pleasure burns along my nerves. "You're going to swallow my cock like a good girl, aren't you?"

She nods, the movement jerky, her gaze never leaving my erection.

"Tell me," I grit out. "Tell me you'll swallow my cock."

"I will," she gasps. "I want it. I want to be your good girl."

Such simple words, but hearing them changes everything.

Pleasure spirals down my spine and through my tingling, tight balls to explode from my cock in a fountain of fluid. My hips pump, driving my length into my hand as if it were her sweet, hot body. I roar out my release.

And my bride comes with me, her high cries joining with mine in a perfect duet of delight.