Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae 1)

Because she knew that he would stay true to his word. Even when they weren’t getting along, he always took care of her. She was confident that wouldn’t change.

His tip parted her flesh. Her eyes fluttered, and she sighed as he entered her slowly. She squeezed his middle with her legs.

The glorious fullness tingled through her. All too soon, it turned into a dull ache. He was way bigger than she was used to.

Clearly reading her body’s signals, he stopped his advance and held still. His kiss turned languid as he pulled out and then pushed back in, stretching her slowly. Gloriously. The ache was a little less. On his next slow thrust, less still.

“Hmm.” She ran her hands over his back and then moaned again at his advance. “That feels so good.”

“Unreal good, yes. God, Charity, this is…” His voice strained as he thrust again, nearly there. He thrust again, a little harder this time, his control obviously fraying. The ache she’d felt turned into pleasure spiraling through her body. The heat surged. Her core tightened.

“More. All the way,” she said, squeezing him closer with her legs. Needing all of him. Right now.

He complied. His thrust took him to the hilt. He sighed against her lips.

“You’ll ruin me, Charity.”

She almost didn’t hear the words, they were murmured so low. And then all remaining thoughts fled as he moved. The man knew his way around the sheets. He worked her body in such a way that all she could do was cling to his broad shoulders and make unintelligible sounds. He thrust and retreated, clearly as lost in her as she was in him. The rhythmic thump of the bed competed with their frantic breathing.

She scratched his back as pleasure pounded within her, dragging her under. Her body was wound so tight that she thought it was going to crack. The pressure liquefied and condensed, centered in her core. The compression hardened, white-hot. A few more thrusts, expert manipulation of her nipples, and the glorious rubbing of her sex, and—

“Devon…I’m going to… I’m… Oh… God!”

She shattered. Pieces of her blew apart. Glorious sensations vibrated through her body. Devon shook over her a moment later, breathing heavily against her lips. He collapsed on top of her and dug his face into her neck.

She soaked in the feel of him. His warmth. His solid body pressing her into the mattress, his hardness still inside her.

She’d never felt so safe.

Her limbs felt heavy, but she kept them draped over him, wanting to remain this close forever. Without bothering to move, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, hoping tomorrow wouldn’t end what she’d come to feel for him. Hoping the pain from his inevitable withdrawal wouldn’t drown her.Chapter Thirty-NineDevon awoke pressed against a warm female body. Irritation stole over him. Waking up touching meant he’d have a harder time disentangling himself. The “I gotta go” conversation was way more awkward when he was still nude.

As he began to disentangle himself, the sweet and spicy smell of her tickled his senses. A surge of warmth rose up, matching the feeling from last night.

Charity.

Sighing in relief, he lowered back down and breathed her in for a moment, hoping he’d get a few more minutes of fulfillment before his desires shifted and boredom crept in.

The soft sunlight streamed through the window. Dust motes swam lazily. He sighed again in utter relaxation. The stress of the last few days softened. Not gone, but hazy in the aftermath of really good sex. In fact, he felt like a puddle of goo, wanting to ooze down over her.

He ran his hand up her bare thigh and over the curve of her soft hip. He lightly kissed her shoulder and let his lips trace down to the curve of her neck. He was so hard he couldn’t stand it.

A thought made him pause.

He wanted her again.

It wasn’t just sexual desire, either. He longed for the tender devotion he’d allowed himself to express last night. He wanted to revel in her. Make her moan in pleasure and clutch him with her whole person.

Warmth pulsed in his chest, a feeling that had been growing throughout his time with her. One that had only been intensified by last night. Deep and primal, his possession of her burned hot. The thought of anyone else touching her prodded his wolf and sparked his rage. One thought blared through his brain: She is mine!

A strange kind of fear washed over him.

He had been prepared to suffer the guilt of hurting her. He was not prepared for this. This—whatever this was—was no good. He didn’t understand the intensity of it. The crushing need to touch her again. To hold her. To rip someone’s face off if they looked at her for too long.

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d launched himself out of bed. Pacing the room, he couldn’t help but look at her. Her hair was splayed across the pillow in a brownish-red wave. The strange glow of her ethereal beauty entranced him, urging him closer.