31. Chapter 31

Chapter thirty-one

A s we walk into the hotel lobby, I realise this is a much nicer establishment than the last place we stayed. I think it should still be within budget and I really don’t want to walk around in public anymore than absolutely necessary. Every minute we are out there, is another minute we could be spotted, because if the Resistance are watching train stations, who knows what else they are watching.

I put on my best, most charming smile. The one I use on customers when they are dithering on whether to buy potatoes from my stall or wait until the next time they go to a supermarket.

The receptionist looks up from her computer screen. Her hair is up in a neat bun and her uniform is pristine. Her eyes widen and darken a little when she sees me. Hallelujah. If she thinks I’m attractive, this is much more likely to work. And it has to work. Nice places like this don’t normally take cash.

“Hi,” I say. “I do hope you can help us. Our luggage was stolen and I was a dummy and put my wallet in my suitcase. But I do keep some cash on me for bits and bobs.”

I pull out my roll of notes. Lord, I wish I was rich enough to carry five hundred quid around like small change.

“How much for a room, while I sort this mess out?” I smile innocently. “Sadly, all our ID was also in our bags.”

Cash and no ID is a big ask. A double whammy. And I really don’t want to risk wandering around looking for somewhere else. The dump we stayed in last night appears to be this town’s place of ill repute and I’m pretty sure retracing your steps when you are on the run is a terrible idea.

“Oh you poor thing! What a nightmare!” the receptionist exclaims.

Thank flip for that! I’m so relieved I could cry. It’s about time we had some good luck.

The receptionist types away on her computer, offers me a price that seems far too good to be true, and sets about checking us in. She doesn’t blink at the names I make up, she just types them in. Then she slides two keycards across the counter and I pick them up.

Mabon steps up to the desk. “We need oil. No, wait. What is the English word? Lube! We need lube!”

Oh my fucking god. I hastily turn away and wish the ground would swallow me up.

“Er…Our complimentary toiletry set in the ensuite includes bath oil that works really well,” says the receptionist. Then she coughs awkwardly. “So I’ve heard!”

“Fabulous!” gushes Mabon. “Thank you, my dear!”

I grab his hand and pull him towards the stairs as fast as I can without actually running. I need to get him away before he says or does anything else.

I find our room, open the door and shove Mabon inside. As the door locks behind us, I let out the breath that had been stuck in my lungs.

Mabon waltzes into the bathroom, emerges a heartbeat later, proudly brandishing a small bottle. He chucks it onto the bed and then kicks his shoes off. He lifts his hoodie up and off. And then his tee shirt.

I stare at his naked chest. His nipples are very pink in his human form. I miss the purple.

I shake my head. What the hell am I doing? I need to get a grip. Time to act like a mature grown-up.

“Keep your clothes on!” I yell frantically, because if he gets any more off, I suspect my resolve is going to shatter.

Mabon pauses with his hands on the waistband of his jeans. “Why?”

“Because we are not going to have sex.”

“But I’m horny.” He pouts.

I inhale sharply through my nose, hold it and then release it slowly.

“I’m sorry for that, I really am. But we have to stop doing this.”

Mabon’s jaw goes slack. His eyes grow enormous. His face pales.

“I’ll still do your hair!” I explain hurriedly. “Every morning. Whenever you want. You don’t have to sleep with me.”

“But I want to!” he whines.

Pale winter sunlight is streaming through the open blinds and lighting up the messy strands of hair that are floating around his sloppy braid. It looks like a halo. He looks like an angel. But I know he is not. If anything, he is the exact opposite.

“We are not doing this anymore,” I say firmly.

He thinks he needs to. It was only this morning he was falling apart and confessing he rocked my world in exchange for a braid.

Even if he is over that, and trusts I’m going to do his hair without him having to pay with his body, he likes to use me. He always has. Add in the fact we are on the run and should be keeping our wits about us, not going at it like rabbits at every opportunity, and that is a whole plethora of reasons not to do this.

Mabon stares at me. The absolute horror and dismay in his eyes is making my heart twist painfully. I’m sorry that he isn’t getting what he wants, I truly am. But as well as all the other reasons, I simply cannot do this to myself anymore. Every time I sleep with him, I fall a little further. My feelings for him dig a little deeper. I’m not cut out for casual sex, I’m really not.

Taking him back to the palace and walking away, is already going to be the hardest thing I’m ever going to have to do. A few more doses of Mabon and I won’t be able to do it at all.

Saying no and calling an end to things is for the best. For everyone’s sake.

Mabon yanks his jeans and underwear down. He steps out of them and glares at me with his hands on his hips. His socks are still on and it should look silly, but naked Mabon is far too much a force of beauty for mere socks to ruin the effect.

He flicks his hair over his shoulder with a toss of his head. “You like having sex with me. You groan beautifully and cum really hard.”

Anything I might say is stuck in my throat. His words, while mortifying, are absolutely true.

“And I’m looking human for you. You should like me more!”

My eyebrows rise. Human Mabon is gorgeous, but his true form is what steals my breath away.

Mabon sees something in my expression that makes him frown.

“How do you want me to look? Tell me!”

I stare at him.

“Like this?” he asks.

I swear I don’t even blink. My eyes don’t close for even a second. But suddenly I’m looking at Amanda. Red curls and full naked breasts.

“Hell no!” I gasp as I stagger backwards.

Amanda steps towards me.

“Mabon! Stop that! Amanda is my friend and she is asexual. This is offensive!”

This time, I do blink. And then huff in relief when I find Mabon in his fey form. His true beauty hits me like a slap and forms a crack in my resolve.

“I don’t care what you look like! I’m not sleeping with you!” I snap.

Mabon’s eyes narrow. Amethyst glows as they blaze in fury. “You gave me a braid!”

He whirls and picks up the ceramic box holding the sachets of instant coffees and tea, and he throws it against the wall where it smashes into pieces.

Fucking hell! The last thing we need is the hotel calling the police. I rush up to Mabon and push him against the wall before he can do any more damage. I can’t believe he is having a full on strop because I won’t sleep with him. He is acting like a toddler denied treats. But then again, this is Mabon. I shouldn’t be surprised.

He glares at me. His chest is heaving, and rage is burning in his eyes. As I glare back, I begin to see other emotions swirling in the purple depths of his eyes. Hurt. Rejection. Grief.

Suddenly, his hands lift up and grab my face. He yanks me to him and smashes my lips against his. His kiss is clumsy. Unpracticed. Desperate. Needy. Frantic.

He releases me. I rest my forehead against his. We are both breathless now.

“Please,” he whispers.

My heart clenches so painfully it feels like I’m dying. Surely I’m too young to have a heart attack? This is precisely why I can’t say yes. This is why I can’t give in. Weakly, I shake my head.

Mabon’s eyes fill with dismay. “Jamie is a liar! It is not a magic word and it doesn’t work!”

“You’ve never said please before?”

“I’m a prince!”

Mabon lets out a little growl and shoves me roughly aside with a strength that lets me know I was never really holding him at all.

I hear the bed creak as he throws himself onto it. I draw in several gasping breaths and then turn around.

Mabon is sprawled on his back on the bed, legs spread wide. Two fingers teasing at his hole.

I stagger back against the wall as a gurgling noise bubbles out of my throat. I watch helplessly as Mabon pauses briefly to pour oil onto his fingers. Then he pushes them into himself. He lets out a little moan. His fingers start to slide in and out.

“I thought that didn’t work?” I rasp.

“It doesn’t!” he snaps. “But I need something.”

He continues to work his fingers. His cock is full and leaking. Little whimpers spill out of him.

“Mabon, stop it.”

“No!” he gasps.

Such a spoilt little brat. This is probably the first time anyone has ever told him no.

My lungs hitch painfully. I’m being unfair. He can’t help his upbringing. He didn’t choose to be born a prince. And while he may have never been told no before, I know damn well he doesn’t always get to say it. He couldn’t tell Lord Gwydion no. No, did not work with the Resistance. I don’t know if last night was a true choice or something he believed he had to do. And there must have been a thousand other instances across his lifetime.

My stomach rolls as my mind replays the look in his eyes just now. That was unmistakable pain. Rejection and grief. And the way he kissed me? My fingers trace over my lips. I could taste his desperation.

Oh lord. What if he is not having a strop over not getting his own way? What if he is not being a brat, and is actually hurt by my rejection? What if he is not just horny but actually has feelings for me?

My heart goes crazy. Mabon is writhing on the bed now. His hips are lifting. His face is all flushed. He looks so very desperate. He can’t get there on his own and that has to be a hell of a torment.

My feet carry me over to the bed. My body lies down next to his. He said please. He gave me, Blake Robinson, his first ever please.

His amethyst eyes fix onto me. Dark and hazy with lust, but also filled with so much pain and fear. Loneliness and longing.

Gently, I pull his hand away. He whimpers. Carefully, I ease two of my fingers into his tight, wet heat. His beautiful eyes flutter closed. His head tilts back. He makes a noise of pure, thankful, grateful relief.

I work my fingers in and out of him. The euphoria on his face is awe-inspiring. His back arches. He fucks himself on my fingers. Exulting in my touch. Enjoying me. Elated by my presence.

I’m the one doing this to him. Me. I’m the one filling him with intense pleasure. I’m the one he wanted. I’m who he chose. Me.

He cries out and shudders around me. He clenches and spasms arounds my fingers. He is ecstasy and rapture incarnate. Unrestrained. Unashamed. Unleashed.

His cock spurts and releases all over his firm stomach. All my deep and fiery emotions have fuelled my lust, and my cock spurts in empathy. A shivery, small orgasm. But satisfying nonetheless.

Mabon lets out a huge sigh and goes all boneless against the sheets. I pull my fingers out and it seems a shame to leave the tight heat of him.

“Feeling better now?” I ask.

He half opens his eyes and looks down towards my groin with a smirk. “Much better.”

Damn it. I thought I’d got away with cumming untouched in my pants without him noticing. I brace myself and wait for the shame and embarrassment to hit me. But it doesn’t arrive. Apparently, Mabon’s attitude is rubbing off on me. And that feels wonderful. Liberating and freeing.

I crawl up the bed and pull Mabon into a spoon against me. He is all lax and warm. I snuffle his hair and fill my lungs with his intoxicating scent.

I can’t fall for Mabon. I can’t.

But I think I already have.