19. Finnian

NINETEEN

FINNIAN

Taryn leaves me breathless.

She stands confidently in her elegant lingerie, her body on display for me with her legs bound in the rope stockings. The matching collar is merely decorative—it doesn’t hold the sacred meaning that signifies ownership in this community—but I’m glad she’s wearing it. The possessiveness I feel for her wouldn’t bode well for anyone requesting I share her for their enjoyment.

The way she moves, the way her skin flushes with arousal, is driving me insane. She’s a vision of sensuality and submission. She is a goddess, and I would happily worship at her altar as she deserves.

I step closer, my hands brushing over her bound thighs, tracing the lines where flesh meets nylon. Her eyes, half-lidded and filled with need, meet mine, and I see my desire reflected back at me.

“Tonight, solnyshko , you belong to me,” I growl possessively. “You are mine to bind, mine to pleasure, mine to care for. Isn’t that right?”

She bites her lower lip, the hint of a smile telling me she’s fighting the urge to let her usual strong-willed personality respond. I hold her gaze in the mirror, and though she can’t see the expectant arch of my eyebrow behind my mask, I’m certain she knows it’s there.

“I am yours to do with as you will, sire.”

A satisfied groan rumbles in my chest at hearing those words tumble from her soft lips. “Good girl. You’ve earned a reward.”

I trail my hands over her hips, across her stomach, and up to her dusky brown nipples straining against the sheer fabric, begging for my touch. She moans as I pinch the stiff buds and arches her back, offering her breasts to me.

I dip my head to kiss and suck on her neck, letting my fangs graze her skin. Her cat-like eyes widen behind her mask, and her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away.

Drinking from another fae was forbidden by the One True Queen, as it’s a way for magic to be temporarily transferred or siphoned, but the ritual is allowed and often practiced between mates during intimacy. I’ve never drank from another, nor have I ever wanted to. Until now.

There’s an overwhelming desire to taste her essence, to drink her down. Like she’s meant to be a part of me, and I won’t be whole until she is…

Fucking hell. Those thoughts are reckless and have no business existing, much less in a sex club. Removing the temptation, I stand up straight again and focus on Taryn and bringing her pleasure as I palm her sex over her panties, feeling the wet heat of her arousal.

Slipping my fingers beneath the lace where she’s still slick and ready for me, I circle her clit and watch her hips chase my touch in the mirror. She reaches up and locks her fingers behind my neck, making her ass grind back against my swollen cock.

I tease her entrance, feeling her muscles clench around my fingers as I slide two inside her tight pussy, then work her up to take three. She whimpers, her head falling back on my chest, giving herself over to the sensations of being filled and stretched.

I quicken my pace, my fingers moving faster. Her response is immediate, her body tensing as she nears the edge but holds back. “Would you like to come now, little sun?”

“Gods, yes,” she gasps.

“Yes, what?” I pinch her nipple with my free hand for emphasis.

She hisses in a breath that turns into a mewl of need. “Yes, sire . Please, I want to come.”

“Then let go, moy solnyshko ,” I murmur against her ear, my thumb circling her clit. “Come for me.”

She shatters around me, a cry of pure ecstasy escaping her lips. Her legs begin to shake, so I band an arm around her waist and watch, entranced, as she rides out her orgasm, her gorgeous body trembling, wearing my ropes.

The sight, the sound, the feel of her coming undone is almost too much. My own need is a raging fire inside me, and I struggle against the urge to take her right here, right now. Just when I’m wondering how many cold showers it’ll take to make my raging hard-on go away, Taryn turns around and palms my cock through my leather pants, the nails on her other hand scratching delicious trails down my chest.

“Don’t quit on me now,” she says, her tone challenging. “I was just starting to have fun.”

Her words unleash something primal in me. I capture her mouth in a fierce kiss, my hands rending her new panties into scraps that fall to the floor as she works frantically at my belt and fly, freeing me from the confines of my pants. desperate to feel her skin against mine.

Pushing her against the mirrored wall, I lift her right leg and hitch it at my hip, positioning myself at her entrance. The crown of my cock presses against her slick heat, and I have to close my eyes for a moment, fighting for control.

“Are you sure?” I manage to ask, my voice strained.

“Yes,” she breathes, her eyes blazing with the golden-colored glamour. “I want this. I want you .”

The last word is barely out of her mouth when I thrust home, filling her completely, both of us gasping at the sensation. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

She’s tight and wet and perfect, and I’m drowning in her, every stroke driving us both to new heights together. I move harder, faster, her moans spurring me on. She meets every thrust, her nails digging into my shoulders, her breath hot against my neck. We’re lost in each other, the world outside this alcove all but forgotten.

All that matters is her. This moment, this connection.

“Oh, gods, Finn,” she pants. “Yes, like that. Fuck, I’m so close.”

I can feel her tightening around me, her second orgasm building, and I know I won’t last much longer. Reaching between us, I press the pad of my thumb on her clit, pushing her over the edge again. She cries out my name as her walls convulse around my cock, and it’s my fucking undoing.

Roaring, I follow her into oblivion, marking her sweet cunt with every stripe of come I pump inside her. We cling to each other, the intensity of our pleasure leaving us both breathless and shaking.

Finally, when the aftershocks have faded, I carefully lower her leg, keeping my hands on her hips until I’m sure she’s steady on her own. I make quick work of putting myself to rights, then I take out the zippered hoodie I lent her the day before from my duffle and help her slide it on.

Taryn smiles as she pulls it closed around her like a wrap dress instead of zipping it up. “Comfortable and modest,” she says, noting that the bottom is long enough to cover her nakedness. Then she dips her chin to sniff her shoulder. “And it smells fantastic, too.”

I chuckle. “Consider it yours.”

She gasps dramatically. “Does this mean you’re courting me?”

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her in close and smile down at her. “I just fucked you in a BDSM dungeon. I think we’re way past courting, don’t you?”

“It’s never too late to court a lady, Finnian.”

I know we’re only bantering, but there’s a part of me that’s serious about wanting a chance with her. Not a “leaning in” kind of chance but a real one. It’s wild to think we’ve only known each other for two days when it feels more like years. Playing along, I say, “Then for however long you wish it, my lady, consider yourself courted.”

“Excellent.” Her laughter is cut off by a sudden yawn that she covers with her hand.

“Time to unwrap you and call it a night.” She doesn’t argue and holds still while I work diligently to undo the rope stockings. I keep an eye on her, watching for any signs of discomfort, and notice her eyes getting heavier with each passing minute.

“Come along, my lady. Let’s get you home and into bed.”

She accepts my hand with a sleepy smile, and I lead her back through the club and into the lobby where I return our masks to Stella, instructing her to put Taryn’s on my tab and store it with mine. Whether it’s wishful thinking or presumption on my part that she’ll be back here with me someday, she looked too beautiful in it to not keep it for her regardless.

The luxury sedan I ordered is waiting for us when we exit Hell’s Kitchen. Once inside, Taryn curls up sideways in my lap, just as I imagined earlier. I wrap my arms around her, and she melts into my embrace, resting her head on my shoulder.

As the car pulls into traffic, her fingers trace over the indented patterns on her legs. “I like these. What do you call them?”

“Rope kisses or rope bites.”

She hums in response, her breaths slowing as she relaxes even more against me. “I like rope kisses.”

Unable to help myself, I press a lingering kiss to her forehead and brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “How are you? You feel okay?”

“I’m incredible,” she murmurs softly, and a second later, she’s asleep in my arms.

Whispering into the night, I answer truthfully. “Yes, you are.”