Chapter 15

Cricket

Hot water swirls around my body, a welcome caress after an evening in the company of teasing incubi, but not enough.

I want Julian, and the coin has nothing to do with my desire. It's all me. But how can I convince him?

Maybe I won't have to. Julian's eyes have gone dark. He wants me too. Why have we waited so long for what we both crave?

I won't waste a second more. "Come here." I remember he doesn't like to be ordered around. "Please."

He approaches—too cautiously for my taste—hovers over me, and says nothing.

As soon as he's in reaching distance, I trail a wet finger along the back of his hand. He cups my cheek, fingers smelling sweetly of the cakes we've been eating.

Lickable.

I give him a long, sultry stare from beneath half-lowered lids. His belt is at eye level, tempting me. I reach for it, but he covers my hand with his free one.

"How can we be sure it's not the coin?" His voice is breathy. I want to steal it away completely with my kisses.

"Because I know my mind, and I'm telling you so. Are you really going to believe it instead of me?"

He trails his fingers over my jaw. "That would make me an idiot, wouldn't it?"

"Yes."

"And I'm not an idiot."

"I certainly hope not."

He pushes a finger into my mouth, and I reward him with a moan around the delectable digit. Sweet, just like I'd thought. It's about time we got around to this.

"Your beautiful, wicked mouth." Julian presses the pad of his finger against my tongue. "I could watch you do this all night."

Yeah, no. As delicious as this is, I want to taste more of him.

All of him.

I pull off his finger and kiss the tip. "Shall we see if there's room in here for two?"

He eyes the bathing barrel skeptically. "There most assuredly isn't."

"Well, then, I'll just have to sit on the rim while you have your turn." I rise, beads of water rolling down my body, and reveal everything.

His gaze drops to the apex of my legs, where I'm hard. Where I've been hard half the evening and a good portion of the last few weeks thanks to the presence of this sexy sorcerer in my life.

He's seen me nude, but this is different. I'm naked for him. My bare skin is warm and slick with bath oils while he's still fully dressed in clothes for travel. I need to make him naked for me.

This time, when I reach for his belt, he doesn't interfere. Nor does he stop me when I strip off his doublet and tunic. He helps with the rest of it—boots, breeches, underclothes—until he's all skin and, surprisingly, freckles. A splattering of them across his chest and on his forearms, dark like his hair against his pale fae skin, somehow endearing him to me even further.

"It isn't pretty," he says just when I'm thinking, he's so pretty.

"What do you mean?"

The vulnerability of his expression is entirely new. "My back. My shoulders…where they used to be."

Oh. His wings. I should have thought of that, should have realized he might be hesitant. Reflecting back, I'm aware he's been strategic when we bath, making sure not to reveal everything.

"It's a lot worse than my fingers."

I wasn't thinking about this at all. I was far too busy scanning his lower regions, which don't disappoint in the slightest. I can't wait to get my hands all over him. How his back looks doesn't matter, and yet he worries, so I must be sensitive.

I press my palm to his chest, right over his heart. It's racing. "Let me see?"

His stare intensifies, but he turns with a sigh. "I could put my shirt back on. If it's too gruesome."

It is.

And it isn't.

I chew the inside of my cheek to keep anything stupid from coming out of my mouth while I think about what to say.

Angry pink and white scar tissue ripples out in bumpy lines from the surrounding skin, like roots pushing their way through an earthen floor. The pain he must have endured is unimaginable. And below, so many stripes from the lash of a whip.

Too many to count.

A part of him now and forever, one that can't be overlooked or ignored, but a part that's insignificant to the person he is to me.

There's nothing to say, so I use touch instead, running my damp palms over his back and shoulders as I drop kisses across his nape.

He shivers but doesn't pull away. "You don't have to do that."

"Mm, want to," I murmur the words against salty skin. "Get in. Please."

He does, awkwardly, gripping my hand for balance.

Water sloshes as I slide out of the tub and onto the wooden rim, hard under my ass. If I have my way, we won't be here very long before there's something hard in my ass, so it's fine.

"You know, I'm angry about what happened to you. I'm horrified by what you must have gone through." I add oil to the sponge and wash his back over the old wounds. "But I'm not sorry our paths crossed. Not sorry to have come to know you. The way your back looks is the least important part of you."

"It's kind of you to say that, but I know how ugly it is."

"It's not. But I would heal you if I could."

He leans in. I open my legs to make room, and we share our first real kiss. His lips are even sweeter than his fingers. Perfect against mine as we get to know each other in this way.

I wrap my legs around his waist and tug him as close as two people can get. My body tingles with warmth. With anticipation. My stomach is aflutter.

It's been ages since I felt like this. So taken with another person that my skin comes alive pressed against his. My mind reels with the possibilities between us. I want to hold him, to make him writhe, to coax pleasured moans from his throat. I want to give him everything. I want to fuck him. I want him to fuck me. I want us to fly so high on sensation we forget where we are and pass out from the rush.

I want, I want, I want…

Julian's chuckle breaks our kiss. He sucks in a breath. "Slow down. We have all night."

"And we shall take it." Deprived of his lips, I kiss his throat instead.

"Yes, but we need air to breathe." His skin vibrates in an intoxicating way as he speaks.

I want more. "Air is overrated."

He laughs again, lowly, deep in his throat, and I get what I wished for.

Locked in this intimate embrace, our mouths meet again and again, parting for each other, tasting and exploring.

Julian is an excellent kisser. Firm but gentle. Eager yet restrained enough to keep me needy and desperate.

As he draws away, I grin with delight at his plump, pink, kiss-swollen, and spit-slick lips. Mine must look the same, but it's downright seductive on Julian.

He sinks into the water, hands on my spread thighs, a heady sight between my knees.

"May I?" Even his voice is trying to kill me.

"I might die if you don't."

Pleasure shocks my system as he takes my cock into his mouth and sucks. No preamble, no more waiting, just achingly intense pressure and the soft feeling of his tongue tasting all of me.

I tangle my hands in his hair, damp from steam, and grip firmly but without guiding. He's doing a fine job without my help. My toes curl where they're dangling in the water. My muscles tense and release.

"You, you, oh, yes," I stutter as he finds a particularly sensitive spot. "You're, erm, quite good at that, Jules."

He flashes his emerald irises up at me, and if a man could smirk and suck cock at the same time, that is what he's doing.

I have to shut my eyes because watching him watch me while he's doing that is going to make me come. And we have so much more to do first. And after. And tomorrow.

And every day from here on out if I have anything to say about it.

I take as much of this ecstasy as I can handle, but then I gather all my willpower and ask him to stop. "Please. Or I'll come. It's so good, but I don't want to. Not yet. Please."

Through all this gibberish, he slows his motions, pulls off, and lays his cheek against my inner thigh while I catch my breath.

He's so beautiful like this. Relaxed and giving. Totally in the moment with me, not treading the dangerous waters of his past or planning a vicious, deadly future.

When I've convinced my body to ease back from the edge, I fish out the bathing sponge from the bathwater. "Shall I wash you?"

"Please." He lets me turn him this way and that while I drag the sponge over bare skin, over sensitive places, and private places with relish.

His body is art. Every line, every curve and sharp angle. Every freckle. I would study each one at length.

I wash his hair, combing my fingers through the long black tresses, working soap to his scalp, and massaging his head.

He moans. A delicate sound, content and needy at once.

When he's as clean as I am, we help each other out of the tub and take turns drying off. I can't take my eyes off him.

I can't wait to put my hands back on him. My palms itch for his skin.

"To bed with me, Cricket." His voice is always sexy, rich velvet, but especially so when he's ordering me to bed with that look in his eyes. "Let me finish what I started."

I'll go to bed all right, but it's my turn to please him. "Or—and this is just an idea I'm toying with here—you could lie back against those pillows, make yourself comfortable, and let me have my fair share, hmm?"

Color flushes his cheeks. "I suppose we could do that. Yes. Fair is fair and whatnot."

I push him to the bed. He wrestles me to my back, plants a firm kiss on my lips, and flips us over so I'm on his chest.

"Gatekeeper's dungeon, that was hot."

"You like being manhandled a little?"

"Apparently. You could try for a lot next time. I'd be willing."

"Noted. Not another word out of you, especially about the blasted Gatekeeper, not when your mouth could be doing finer things."

I couldn't agree more and set to work exploring every lovely inch of him, lick by sensuous lick.

The sounds he makes spur me onward. Sweet, breathy sighs and deep, guttural moans from the back of his throat I'm not even sure he's aware of. I'll remember these pleasured little noises as long as I live. And that I'm drawing them from him, one intimate caress at a time.

When he reaches the same fevered precipice he'd brought on in me earlier, he squirms away from my reach, laughing.

His laugh always brings a grin to my lips. Such joy remains in him despite what he's gone through, and I love that it shows itself now, as we're learning each other.

"You're quite good at that yourself." He tugs at his balls to calm down. "Tell me you like to fuck."

"I like to fuck." That one's easy.

"Preferences?"

"Specifically, I'd like you to fuck me, but I'm up for either."

"Thank the stars because if I'm not inside you in the next five minutes, I'm going to explode." He grabs me. "Come here."

I don't have to do a thing, though. He puts me right where he wants me, on my knees for him, shoulders down, and yes, I do relish being manhandled. "Yes," I hiss the word into the pillow.

This part has never been my favorite. Sometimes I handle it myself for that reason, but Julian isn't shy, so neither shall I be. He's not hesitant either. He prepares me for what we're about to do like a man on a mission. Quick, thorough, efficient.

Before long, I'm biting my arm to keep from squirming away from his clever fingers and tongue.

"Jules, I'm ready. So ready, Jules."

"Yeah?" he asks from my nether regions.

"Yeah. How do you want me?"

"Roll over."

I do, inviting Julian to me as though this act was fated, each of us waiting for this union our whole lives. Every decision leading up to this exquisite point.

In a moment's clarity, I think of the coin, strangely silent through tonight's activities. Approval, maybe?

Never mind.

Who cares what the coin thinks?

I know what I want, and that's Julian in my arms and kissing my throat.

We move together naturally, as if we've done this before but with the excitement of the first time. The newness of a lover yet to be completely explored. The promise of more to come, weaving its way into my heart like a tapestry.

The stretch as he enters me and the following sense of fullness has me arching my spine and throwing my head back. So perfect for me. Such a rush.

Our rhythm comes easily, both of us eager for more of the other. The smooth glide of our bodies turns intense in increments.

My whole world is Julian. His dark hair over my cheek, his hands at my waist, his cock pleasuring me from the inside. Mine is trapped between us, slick with early seed against his abdomen, the teasing, tempting delight of not quite enough and almost too much at once.

The heat of it is addicting. The urge for more. That spot right there. Ooh, there.

His breath dampens my neck. He's panting. Losing control. And it's me who's making him feel this way. My body doing this to him. I savor every second.

I grip his arms, squeezing the firm muscles beneath my fingers, keeping him tight against me. No space between us, his abdominals sliding and tensing against my cock.

I'm so close.

But I want to wait for my lover.

When Julian finally cries out and comes, I'm overcome. My body trembles and quakes with his as a rolling wave of bliss drags me under. Pleasure consumes us.

My pulse pounds in my ears.

We cling to each other.

It's too good to be true.