Tempest in Disguise (Darkest Faerie Tale Series Book 1) (4 page)

He would have to break down her strong-will and determination, so she would belong to him completely. Not ultimately breaking her though, he only wanted her full submission behind closed doors and his hard-on strained behind his jeans at the thrilling thought. Cole needed to get inside of her. For too long, he imagined taking her. Now, he could.

When he removed his fingers from her, she gasped.

“Don’t worry, wildflower,” he consoled her.

She may have been afraid he would slap her pussy again, but he felt no need to punish her, only to fill her up with his cock—the woman drove him insane.

Hooking his hands behind her knees, he slid her down the edge of the bed, so her ass hung off the end. As he unzipped his pants and bent to pull them down, his face came right up against her delicious sex. Her honeysuckled arousal drew him in and he couldn’t resist licking the folds over her clit and down to her entrance. Fuck, she tasted so good in his mouth.

“Ohh,” Mya moaned in euphoric exaltation and drew her hands into his hair.

Cole wrapped his arms behind her thighs and parted her legs even wider. He feasted on her, drawing her sweet nectar into his mouth. The walls of her sex clenched around his tongue. Her inhalations became shallower and her little body tensed in his hold. He lightly bit her swollen bud to push her over the edge. She came, screaming in pleasure, and he hungrily lapped her up.

Standing back up, he pressed his cock against her entrance. “You want me inside of you, Mya?”

“Please,” she begged and fisted the comforter like a starved animal. “Yes, please Sir.”

A smirk crossed over his lips. He loved to hear her beg. “Please, what? Tell me, Mya.” He wanted to hear her say the words aloud.

“Please, I want to feel you inside of me.”

Cole plunged into her, burying himself to the hilt, and her pussy convulsed around him. “Damn wildflower, you feel so good around me.” He looked down to watch his cock while slick and coated with her juices, sliding in and out of her tight little flower as it bloomed and swelled around him. “Who does your body belong to?” He pressed inside of her again slowly, savoring the way her pussy sucked him in.

“You.” Mya gripped on to him tighter.

“Answer properly.” He grabbed a hold of her nipples and pinched the buds in between his thumbs and forefingers. Yes, breaking this one would be his finest feat yet. Court rules be damned, he would have her.

Her body tensed under his as he tortured her, keeping her on the precipice of pleasure and pain. “You, Sir.”

“Who do you want to please?” He stopped, leaving his cock inside her.

She wiggled her hips against him in an obvious attempt to get him to move. “You, Sir.”

Cole bent over, bringing his face to hers. In a tone full of warning, he said, “Do not forget who you belong to.”

She gasped against his lips. “Yes, Sir.”

“Such a good girl.” He smoothed a hand down her hair as he slowly moved inside of her, rocking her on his cock. Cole slid a finger down and played with her bud. He flicked at her clitoris and she clenched around his cock even tighter.
Hot Damn.

Cole couldn’t stop his lips from turning up at the corner. So, the little tiger liked a bit of roughness. When he stopped touching her, she rocked her hips into him, so needy. He could tell how much she wanted this, wanted him. She needed to be controlled as much as he needed to control her. His breathing turned ragged as he thrust into her harder and faster. “Do you want me to let you come, Mya?”

“Please,” she moaned, straining, writhing underneath him.

He loved holding her right on the verge. “You don’t sound very convincing.” Using his middle finger he flicked her clitoris again.

She would beg. She would admit how very badly she needed him. “Oh,” she screamed out, arching her back, pressing him further inside. “Please Sir!”

His cock threatened to go off as her pussy squeezed him tighter. “Please what?”

“Please let me come, Sir,” she moaned.

He flicked her clit again and again, not moving his cock inside her. “I’m still not sure you really want this, my sweet wildflower.” Her pussy clenched drawing his balls even tighter.
Fuuuuck
.

“Please Sir. I can’t handle it anymore.” Her thighs gripped him at the hips. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

Truth.
She’d said the magic words.

He increased the pressure on her clit and drove into her. “Then come for me, beautiful."

Mya screamed as she came undone. Raising her hips, she met every one of his deep thrusts.

Cole exploded inside her and her tight inner walls milked him through waves of ecstasy. It seemed to never end. He collapsed on top of her, keeping his weight on his elbows.

In the aftermath, she sucked in breaths.

His lips twitched into a wry smile. “You’re fucking amazing, Mya.”

“So are you,” she murmured in a satiated haze and nuzzled against the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around him.

He held her there for a moment, not truly wanting it to end. Because once he left—things would never be the same.

Cole hadn’t even gotten a chance to get into the details of the looming war. As an Elder in the High Council, he was a representative of the Unseelies and in order to gain the upper hand, they required Mya’s unusual powers for what they intended. However, he needed to take a different approach to get her to bend to his will because his cock obviously had other ideas in mind and fumbled tonight’s mission. Tomorrow, he would tell her the truth.

“Mmhmm.” she hummed against his throat, sounding tired and spent.

Releasing her arms from him, he pulled out of her and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. When he came back into the bedroom, her eyes were closed. Her breathing leveled out as she napped. Cole scrubbed a palm over his face. Damn, she was such a vision laying there naked and sprawled out, filled with his seed. Her skin blushed pink from the heights of pleasure. He slid his arms underneath her. “Shhh,” he comforted her while carefully shifting her on the bed and lying next to her, before placing the covers over her.

CHAPTER THREE

M
ya dreamt about smoke. The smell became palpable as she woke up. She tried to inhale, but the air seemed so thick. She forced her eyes open. Smoke languorously poured in from the vents on the ceiling. She blinked and then rubbed her eyes, making sure they weren’t deceiving her.

Smoke seeped from the walls.

She jumped out of bed and walked up to the glowing wall. Too hot to touch, heat radiated from them. The two by sixes, the frame between the sheetrock, crackled and popped. Her house was on fire, from the inside out. How is it even possible? She pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming and jerked as the pain shot down her arm…Yes, most definitely awake.

Gazing over the floor, she found her jeans and tank top from last night. She trembled, arms and legs shaking, while quickly scooping up the clothes and dressing. She darted out of the bedroom, into the hallway, looking left then right. Mya’s breath hitched as she gasped. At the end of the hall the back of a large figure dressed all in black ran, a hoodie covering their head. She clutched her throat. It couldn’t be him, the one who left her satiated only hours ago…could it? He slipped around the corner into another bedroom.

“Hey!” she yelled out and ran down the hallway to the room. The curtains flapped against the opened window. They must have jumped out.

Mya turned around in the room, her heart nearly exploding as she glanced around. Slowly, the innards of the house burned, ready to consume the entire dwelling. Her entire life was in this home. All the memories she had of her mother and father. What could she grab quick enough to take out of the house? She jogged back into her room and flung open the closet door. A crate of photo albums sat on the floor in the corner and she dragged them out.

She quickly scanned the rest of the room, taking inventory of the most important things she could save from being burned. Everyone always thought about worst case scenarios, how they might react, what they would do—but when the real thing actually happened, all of those plans dissipated when panic set in.

The smoke became overbearing and she coughed into her elbow.
Her baby blanket.
The yellow and white gingham blanket her mother made before she was born. Sure, it may be a tattered rag, but it couldn’t be replaced. She fumbled on the shelf of her closet, searching for the blanket—the last physical connection she truly had of her mother. Her hands slapped across the warmed wood blindly searching as the room started turned into a hazy suffocating gray. She found the blanket and ripped it off the shelf.

Mya knew she needed to get out, but this was her parent’s house before they died and soon, everything would be gone. So many memories. She closed her eyes for a moment, the smoldering house around her burning to ashes from the inside. Rushing back through the bedroom with her blanket in hand and the crate of pictures, she swiped her cell off the nightstand and stuffed it into her back pocket.

Staying low to the ground, she gathered the tiny memories she gripped in her hands and bolted down stairs. The doorknob seared her palm as she reached for it.
Shit.
She jerked her hand back and waved it in the air like the action would make the burning stop. Glass shattered and her heart jumped. The windows cracked and popped against the growing heat. She ducked and shielded her face as shards shot across the room.

She kicked the remaining glass out of the window and hopped over the frame with the crate and blanket in tow. The sun barely began to rise as she made it out toward the sidewalk and dropped everything on the grass, staring at her home—deconstructing between the walls.

Joints on the still standing house shook, lowering the structure a foot or two.
Think Mya, is there anything else you need?
Her head ran through the gamut.
My mother’s china. The silver. My father’s guns. Gun’s my grandfather had owned.
My mother’s wedding ring.
She clasped a hand over her mouth. For seven generations the gaudy, diamond ring passed through her mother’s family, she couldn’t let the fire ravage it. But, there wasn’t a fire, not yet—strange, yet eerie, watching the house burn from its innards out, everything in reverse. She couldn’t even get her car out of the garage. If she started the engine, it might blow up from the fumes coming out of the walls.

She glanced up and down the street, across the road, seeking help, trying to find anyone who might be able to help her. The emptiness around her consumed her. She couldn’t let it all burn.

Her Unseelie side kicked in. She darted back in, crouching down, and took the stairs two at a time, going back to her bedroom—the room her parents shared when they were alive. The room with the king bed, the one her parents slept in, the same one she used to crawl into every night as a child when she had a nightmare. It was funny how tragedy brought up memories when one panicked.

She whipped the closet doors open.
When did I close them?
Shaking her head, she reached to the corner of the shelf, back further. Heat radiated from the wood threatening to sear her skin. Under some hats, her hand stretched, until she latched onto the little wooden box. The house wobbled, crinkling and she held her arms out for balance as it shook. Walls started burning hotter, like the flames were about to erupt at any minute, the paint on the sheetrock turned liquid and oozed down the wall. She coughed, realizing how much smoke she’d been inhaling. As the second story started to shake and collapse on the first, she ran toward the sliding glass doors, shards shattered and she dived through the holes onto her parent’s front balcony as it gave out. She barrel rolled, clenching the wooden box against her body and braced for impact. After slamming to the ground, she twisted, rolling on the grass, eventually coming to a stop. She lay there on the ground and watched what was left of her world—crumble before her eyes.

Her heart clenched as the remaining glass shards of the windows crunched. She covered her face, the destruction too hard to watch. Sounds of the house imploding on itself left her huddled and cringing with each snap.
No. No. No!
Inner paralyzing pain cramped in her gut and she screamed out in agony to make it stop. The last reminder of her mother and father, everything they left behind, gone. It felt like losing her parents all over again.

Poof!
Finally, the fire consumed and sucked away every memory she had there—baking with her mom, playing chess with her dad—gone in one swift moment. Wafting plumes of smoke carried it all away—only ashes drifting away in the air. She wiped the tears from her face, not even realizing she’d been crying, and she found herself utterly alone.

Mya grabbed the cell phone from her back pocket and called 911. Talking to the operator, she sucked in deep breaths, still coughing and hacking from all the smoke she inhaled. Consciousness hung on by a thread. Everything else faded into a tunnel and the phone slid from her grasp.

First Nicole’s brother, now this. Her sixth sense tingled in warning, something wasn’t right. There were too many coincidences so close together. It had to be those impish Unseelies. Some mischievous type of Aos sí magick must be tied to this. Houses didn’t burn down like hers just did. What about the naughty Unseelie who seduced her last night? He had something to do with it all. He used her—took her darkest desires and turned them against her, probably to distract her from his true intentions. More hot tears flowed down her face.