Fae High Summer Hunt (7 page)

One Baylor sat up and on the edge of the bed. Naeme gasped when she was summarily hauled up and positioned to straddle his hips. Hiked up, the rotund head of his cock was set at her opening, and since she had no foothold on the floor he pulled her down onto his cock.

“Ohhh, yes,” she moaned and gripped muscular thighs to keep her legs spread.

The plump membranes in her passage separated to welcome the intrusion. He stretched her, his shaft glided over her susceptible tissues deep in her sheath, and a small release rocked through her by the time he was buried balls deep inside her.

Faced by the second Baylor, she could only respond with a weak smile when he shot her a grin full of sensual promise. He dropped a kiss on her lips and squeezed her breasts as he trailed his mouth down her belly.

She jerked when her clitoris was petted. Naeme glanced down to see her clitoris protruding from her folds.

The man on his knees before her leaned in and took her clitoris into his mouth. He twirled his tongue around it and lapped at the nub. Each stroke had her easing up and down on the penis filling her. Hands took hold of her breasts, and the Baylor feeding on her fluids took hold of his own rigid shaft and thrust into his clenched fist.

Naeme’s head fell back. Oh yes, yes, she could understand why her lover or lovers would want this duality of sensations. He fondled her clit while she had a cock plunging into her. But the flexibility of a tongue added another nuance to the encounter. Harsh grunts, throaty growls revealed the depth of the lovers’ pleasure. A tightness coiled in her belly, wound in her groin, awakened all her senses.

Between Baylor’s upward thrusts into her pussy and his damp oral lashes over her clit Naeme’s entire body spasmed as she came. She drifted on a sea of orgasmic bliss as her men continued to love her until they joined her in her state of nirvana.

Chapter Nine

The next morning found Naeme in the Queen’s audience room stifling a yawn. She’d spent the previous night suspended in bliss, for the most part in the arms of two frisky, tireless lovers. For short periods, one man had departed, leaving her with a single partner, who indulged in his preferences to her surprise and delight. Naeme grinned. She’d reaped the benefits of those predilections. She was deliciously sore, sated to the point where all she could do was lie and bask in the aftermath. It had taken the first streaks of light dispersing the night-darkened sky to pull them apart, with gratifying reluctance.

Drowsy from the lack of sleep, she’d hastily borrowed the pale blush pink from the dawn to infuse in the gown Baylor conjured for her. She joined Titania’s attendants on the last step of the dais seconds before the Queen entered the chamber escorted by her consort.

Garbed in deep pink, the Queen looked like a rose in full bloom as she glided into the room. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth puffy, as if bruised from rough kisses. Any sign of last eve’s ill temper had been banished. In fact Titania looked almost serene.

Oberon settled his mate before he took his seat beside her. He glanced over the room, eyes at half-mast, and studied the inhabitants with a heavy-eyed languor—a sure sign that he was well sated. He flicked a glance at Baylor, standing on the balcony a floor above them, a brief silent exchange ending with a barely perceptible dip of her lover’s head.

Her gaze collided with Baylor’s. Or half of him, she could be sure. As she looked at the grim sentinel, his stance was warrior-like, eyes eagle-sharp, emotions contained. No one seeing him now could imagine him at his most primal, caught in the throes of his release—the way she had seen him, enjoyed him and come to understand him. He gave his all to whatever mien he assumed. She pulled her attention away from him, not wanting to reveal her giddiness.

The King gestured with long elegant fingers, signalling for the first salon to commence. For a fortunate few would catch the royal couple’s eye, and garner an invitation to their bed.

Dressed in their very best, fashioned from petals and hides, satin and the like, with pastel hues to greet the dawn, the Fae strutted like peacocks, primping and preening to catch the attention of desired lovers. With the coming of the dusk the guests would arrive to witness their most envied tradition, the Greening.

Need quickened in Naeme.

As she watched the promenade and the jostling for attention, the young and the green tittered while the experienced sought old lovers to ensure satisfaction or to explore new diversions to rouse jaded appetites. Under all that joviality, a fraught tension put constraints on the proceedings—fear or guilt perhaps. She saw strained smiles and stilted movements that lacked fluidity. A full complement of the guard didn’t help. Replacing the expected footmen, members of both guards manned the doors.

A butterfly, their sovereigns’ favoured messenger, manifested above their heads. Its wings were red and gold, the Queen’s colours. Titania was issuing the first invitation.

It fluttered, flirtatious and playful. As a collective, the courtiers drew in a sharp breath and waited to see who would receive the coveted accolade. It flew in her direction, and unease sent an icy frisson through Naeme.

Titania’s herald settled on her shoulder, a singular honour considering their history, or a sign she wasn’t quite forgiven and still had penalties to pay. She looked to Baylor, seeking reassurance. Seemingly unfazed, he gave her a slight nod. He’d expected this to happen. Heartening. He could have warned her. She hesitated and sent him a damning glare. The gleam in his eyes hardened, willing her to comply, as if she’d dare to rebuff the invitation that was all but a command.

Adhering to protocol, she made her curtsies to the Queen. As she rose Naeme chanced a tentative glance at Titania, whose amusement and calculation were evident on her face. Baylor might not have any concerns, but Naeme had a feeling she wouldn’t come out unscathed. Oberon would be in the bed and she might be hard pressed to avoid him.

From Oberon’s palm a second courier took flight and went directly to Baylor. His acceptance was assumed.

More invitations were relayed. Elated females gasped in delight. Masculine rumbles faded in the background as Naeme noted who received them. They were sent to the most talented, inventive, indefatigable voluptuaries.

Valen popped up beside her, bringing with him the pine odour of the northern forests. He was perfectly groomed, clad in Oberon’s signature silver and blue velvet, a jaunty feather in the hat he wore. Nothing in his demeanour revealed that he’d spent the previous night on a hunt, or whether he had met with success or failure.

He winked cheekily at her, and with an elaborate bow, mischievous rather than respectful, he genuflected before King and Queen. “I beg your pardon for my tardiness.”

“You seem to be in a jovial mood this morning, Valen. You have good news to share?” Oberon drawled. His question was casual, but there was an underlying steeliness in his tone.

“How can I not be happy, your majesty? Tonight is the great gathering. I do have a place in your intimate entourage for the rites, don’t I?”

“You do.” The affirmation came from Titania.

“Then what more could a Fae such as myself ask for?” Valen’s cheeriness wasn’t forced. There was an almost manic anticipation about his manner. It set Naeme’s teeth on edge, but then Valen thrived on the theatrical.

Naeme felt like a pawn in a complex game. All the players were in place, but she didn’t know the rules. She didn’t know whether to be titillated or afraid.

Chapter Ten

Baylor and Valen were avoiding her. It was inconceivable that she hadn’t managed to corner either one of them, or that they couldn’t spare a few minutes to tell her what was going on.

Her frustration grew as the day waned. Dismissed by the Queen to prepare for the evening’s festivities, she took off to Baylor’s quarters to confront him. Finding him absent, she did a cleansing and removed all traces of herself from the uncluttered room—her scent, the imprint of her essence, the memories she had imbued into the walls, which he could recall and relive if he chose. He’d be furious, but then so was she.

In a huff she absconded to a friend’s house.

“Well, you certainly are making a statement.” Tiri stood on the threshold wearing the traditional apparel, the sheer long-sleeved garment with a single tie just above her mons veneris. Her dusky nipples and shadowed cleft were clearly visible through the shimmering material, her ebony tresses rippling down her back like a cloak.

Naeme on the other hand had bucked tradition. She was in a mood. She had dressed herself in unadulterated red from neck to feet with no fastening in sight, bound her hair back in a garnet clasp and braided it. She’d taken a further step and done the unthinkable—she’d donned undergarments. They clung to her body like a second skin, bespelled to deny access to her lower orifices, but translucent to show her charms. She’d never had a lover ignore her after they’d spent the night together—she was used to her men dancing attendance. His insensitivity had pricked her pride, but much worse, he had kept her in the dark, treating her like an empty-headed idiot.

“Yes, I am. What do you think I am saying?”

“At the very least, ‘Fuck you’.” Tiri laughed as Naeme slipped her feet into flat leather slippers.

“That’s a start. I’ll have much more to say before the night is over.” She caught Tiri’s hand, and together they ran from Tiri’s quaint cottage and joined the throng making their way to the great hall. Knowing what to expect if the event followed the norm, Naeme was keen to see how the evening would unfold now that Titania had added an element of danger to the proceedings.

* * * *

She slipped into Titania’s privy chamber. Titania’s auburn brow arched as she caught sight of Naeme. “It seems to me, Naeme, you’re garbed for a war rather than a night of loving.”

“There are battles.” Naeme met Baylor’s irate stare with bland indifference. “And then there are
battles,
your majesty.” The Queen’s attendants watched with avid interest.

The Queen’s lips twitched. Her gaze shifted between Naeme and Baylor.

“If I may have a word in private with Naeme, milady, before your august guests arrive.” The request made between Baylor’s clenched teeth drew snorts and chuckles disguised as coughs from the other people in the room.

“By her attitude, you may have left it too late, my captain.” Titania chose to be entertained. Mirth danced in her eyes as she tilted her head to an alcove at the far end of the privy chamber.

Baylor gripped Naeme by the elbow and led her away. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She gave him an overly sweet smile. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You eliminated all that was you from my rooms.”

“Oh, wonderful, I did a good job then. Well, if there is nothing else, I will take my place in the Queen’s retinue.”

“Just wait a damned second. What are you in a boil about?”

She folded her arms under her breasts and stared at him.

“You’re pouting about something, but I don’t know what.”

“Let me say this slowly so you’ll understand. Valen returned—with Puck, I am assuming by his perkiness. I do have some interest in the matter since it was my recollection that is blurred.”

“Shite, I spent the day marshalling our forces, shoring up the protection spells. After that I scouted the perimeter.” Impatience tightened his face and he reached for her, but she stepped back, not wanting him to touch her. Her resolve would weaken.

“
One
of you scouted the perimeter…” She let the last word hang in the air. Baylor looked around him to see if anyone was in hearing distance. He dragged his hand over his hair and down his nape to work the tendons there. Now that she looked past her hurt feelings she noticed the weariness on his face.

Shamefaced, she mumbled, “Sorry.”

“That’ll do for now.” A brief grin flitted across his face before it fell into sober lines. “Something is coming at us, something that should not be possible. Everything appears as it should be, but I can feel it, taste it. I hear the worried murmurs from the earth, the forest creatures. It comes to me like a sigh on the wind, but I can’t catch the words. The Fae have grown complacent, Naeme, arrogant in our belief we are invulnerable. It may prove to be our downfall.”

Now she understood—the thought of failing his Queen, his race, her, weighed heavily on him.

She framed his face with her hands, surprised to find his skin chilled. She exuded heat to banish the coolness.

“What can I do to help?”

“We won’t know until we are confronted with our enemies, but follow your instincts. They’ve saved us before.”

“It’s time,” Titania called out then. She placed her hand on Oberon’s proffered arm, regal in her blood-red ceremonial gown, a diadem of rubies on her head. Her gown was transparent and it clung to her lush curves. Her scent exuded earthiness, adding to her allure.

Naeme thought of Titania as an arrogant, wilful bitch, but she felt pride in her Queen as Titania walked out undaunted to meet her adversaries, and a prick of something akin to desire.

The Fae convened for a Greening were a spectacular sight. Their bodies smouldered with heat born of arousal, pulsed with an inner melody that would rise to a sustained crescendo when they began to love. Laughter and words, flirtatious and seductive, hummed through the vast chamber.

Conversation fell to low whispered murmurs as the King and Queen glided to their thrones. The participants shifted to clear a path from the door to the platform. This gave the people flanking the royal couple an unhampered view of anyone who entered the room.

Trumpets blared and Eldritch, King of the Waterfolk, strode into the hall, tall, slender as a sapling, dressed inexplicably in furs. He bowed to Oberon and clasped Titania’s offered hand and pressed his lips to its back. “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing for all our sakes,” he mumbled, and stepped back as the pixies swarmed into the room to buzz around Titania before they moved back. The brownies and the forest lords came next.