Read Online The Cherished One by Carolyn Faulkner - Free Book Online
Authors: Carolyn Faulkner
Ads: Link
words, Fawna. I wonder. Do you mean them?” He could fell her depression, and the fatalism that it drove her to, although he knew that she was too strong to give in to it for long.
She shrugged. “I find myself at a bit of a crossroads, and I have to admit to feeling somewhat fatalistic. I’m no spring chicken. I’m thirty-two. Dag and I had been together for almost eight years. He was the love of my life, and yet he’s chosen to leave me flat,” she eyed him warily, “whatever his possibly altruistic motives. And if those were his motives, he could have written me a letter or something, told me about all of that.
“I’ve never been particularly afraid of death itself; faeries don’t believe in Heaven or Hell. We believe in the cycle of the planet, and that all living things are a part of that,” she put her soda on the coffee table nonchalantly. “If you’re going to kill me, I wish you’d just do it.”
Max, who had been sitting a ways away from her, moved much closer, a bit alarmed by her statements. “Unfortunately for you, you don’t have control here. I do. If you die, and how it happens are things that are in my hands.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. “And you know just how capable my hands are, don’t you?” Max reached down to squeeze a still throbbing bottom cheek as his lips captured hers, one hand deftly creeping beneath the curtain of her hair to curve around the back of her neck, holding her in place, so that she couldn’t move away no matter how hard she tried, the other snaking around to her mid back, forcing her to arch against him, pressing her generous breasts against his chest.
The hand at the back of her neck ventured down to those well-presented breasts, seeking and finding the already peaked tips and lazily running the tip of one finger over them, teasing her, that strong arm across her back not allowing for any escape, no matter how hard she writhed.
And her wiggling was testing his own control, which he liked, so he didn’t even try to dissuade her from it.
Chapter Five
It was, as it would happen, just the wrong time of the month, and Fawna’s breasts were excruciatingly sensitive. Dag could, and had, on numerous occasions, brought her to orgasm merely by stimulating just those raspberry buds. And talking to her. She responded to his voice as if he was stroking her clit with his tongue rather than using it to talk to her. His words flowed over his skin like a physical touch, bringing her to a place of pure physical sensation. Sometimes, she’d actually had to ask him to tell her to stop contracting, because she’d gotten scared of the strength of her reactions to him and felt like it would never, ever end.
Suddenly, all of that stimulation, which had her very close to the edge, was withdrawn, and he pulled her up against him, holding her so tightly that she couldn’t move unless he allowed it, keeping her bottom pressed obscenely against his crotch. “Tell me how you and Dag met.”
“He – he was a friend of a friend of mine, and we met at a party at her house.”
“And you were the life of the party?”
Fawna snorted. “I was hiding behind the potted plant, looking at my watch and wondering what was considered a polite timeframe to stay at an acquaintance’s engagement party. I’m a very happy hermit, thank you.”
Max was surprised, and that didn’t happen often. He would have pegged her for the party girl type. Apparently, he was wrong. “And what was my old friend Dag doing?” he asked sarcastically.
That got her angry. “Don’t put it like that. You were never friends. I don’t know anything about your relationship, but I know that without asking.”
Max didn’t take kindly to being corrected, despite the veracity of her statements. “Answer me,” he warned in a growl.
Fawna was too lost in her reverie to note the warning. “Hanging around
She shrugged. “I find myself at a bit of a crossroads, and I have to admit to feeling somewhat fatalistic. I’m no spring chicken. I’m thirty-two. Dag and I had been together for almost eight years. He was the love of my life, and yet he’s chosen to leave me flat,” she eyed him warily, “whatever his possibly altruistic motives. And if those were his motives, he could have written me a letter or something, told me about all of that.
“I’ve never been particularly afraid of death itself; faeries don’t believe in Heaven or Hell. We believe in the cycle of the planet, and that all living things are a part of that,” she put her soda on the coffee table nonchalantly. “If you’re going to kill me, I wish you’d just do it.”
Max, who had been sitting a ways away from her, moved much closer, a bit alarmed by her statements. “Unfortunately for you, you don’t have control here. I do. If you die, and how it happens are things that are in my hands.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. “And you know just how capable my hands are, don’t you?” Max reached down to squeeze a still throbbing bottom cheek as his lips captured hers, one hand deftly creeping beneath the curtain of her hair to curve around the back of her neck, holding her in place, so that she couldn’t move away no matter how hard she tried, the other snaking around to her mid back, forcing her to arch against him, pressing her generous breasts against his chest.
The hand at the back of her neck ventured down to those well-presented breasts, seeking and finding the already peaked tips and lazily running the tip of one finger over them, teasing her, that strong arm across her back not allowing for any escape, no matter how hard she writhed.
And her wiggling was testing his own control, which he liked, so he didn’t even try to dissuade her from it.
Chapter Five
It was, as it would happen, just the wrong time of the month, and Fawna’s breasts were excruciatingly sensitive. Dag could, and had, on numerous occasions, brought her to orgasm merely by stimulating just those raspberry buds. And talking to her. She responded to his voice as if he was stroking her clit with his tongue rather than using it to talk to her. His words flowed over his skin like a physical touch, bringing her to a place of pure physical sensation. Sometimes, she’d actually had to ask him to tell her to stop contracting, because she’d gotten scared of the strength of her reactions to him and felt like it would never, ever end.
Suddenly, all of that stimulation, which had her very close to the edge, was withdrawn, and he pulled her up against him, holding her so tightly that she couldn’t move unless he allowed it, keeping her bottom pressed obscenely against his crotch. “Tell me how you and Dag met.”
“He – he was a friend of a friend of mine, and we met at a party at her house.”
“And you were the life of the party?”
Fawna snorted. “I was hiding behind the potted plant, looking at my watch and wondering what was considered a polite timeframe to stay at an acquaintance’s engagement party. I’m a very happy hermit, thank you.”
Max was surprised, and that didn’t happen often. He would have pegged her for the party girl type. Apparently, he was wrong. “And what was my old friend Dag doing?” he asked sarcastically.
That got her angry. “Don’t put it like that. You were never friends. I don’t know anything about your relationship, but I know that without asking.”
Max didn’t take kindly to being corrected, despite the veracity of her statements. “Answer me,” he warned in a growl.
Fawna was too lost in her reverie to note the warning. “Hanging around
Similar Books
