The Last Fae Princess

15_I Feel Like Sin

Nia POV

It is absolute torture to lie silently in Master’s arms and not move. I want to run and hide. I want to disappear, or crawl under a bush and die. I just want not to be here … but I also do.

I can tell by his breathing that he finally fell asleep, and I quietly and cautiously slide out of bed like a slippery snake. I quickly pick up my clothes but freeze when Master grunts and turns around.

I stop breathing as I look at him, silently and desperately praying that he does not wake up. The moonlight pours through the window, draping his perfect muscular body in a soft silver glow. My knees instantly turn weak, my heart rate picks up, and I must stop myself from crawling back into bed with him.

Dammit, Nia! I reprimand myself and tiptoe out of the room. I dash through the hall, down the stairs and sigh in relief when I reach my room.

“Holy s**t,” I mutter as I walk to the bathroom. I did not think there would ever be a day that I would be relieved to be back in my ‘cell’.

I drop my clothes and step into the shower, allowing the hot water to scorch my skin. I feel like sin – or at least, what I think sin should feel like. I did not know what to expect, but enjoying it did not even cross my mind. And boy, did I enjoy it! Well, after the initial pain and discomfort. Once I participated, it was oh, so good.

The way my skin felt when he touched me. The anticipation speeding up my heartbeat when his hands explored my body. And after my body adjusted to him inside me … oh, Goddess, I am turning wet again.

“Nice, Nia,” I mutter, reaching for the soap in a vain effort to wash away my dirty, dirty thoughts.

I hate that I enjoyed his touch so much. I am not sure if I should feel ashamed or angry. He is a stranger, for crying out loud. How could I enjoy it? Where is my dignity? Dean sent me here to humiliate me. Who the hell enjoys humiliation?

I get out of the shower, grab a fresh tracksuit, climb into bed and close my eyes, but sleep evades me. My mind is all over the place, and my body yearns to be back in Master’s arms – which is absurd, crazy and ridiculous. It must be because it was my first time, I reason. It is the only logical explanation, but … why did I feel so safe with him? I have not felt that since … well, since forever.

As a child, all I knew was fear and loneliness. My foster parents were good enough, I guess, but they did not shower me with love and affection. To them, I was nothing but a chore with a paycheck.

But tonight … tonight I felt safe, and even a little wanted. If anyone can want a bold girl. I wish I had someone I could talk to about this. Someone who can explain to me if my feelings of shame and exhilaration are normal.

Declan POV

I stretch out lazily when I wake up. Damn, last night was good. I forgot how much better I sleep after s*x. It has been too long.

I reach for Nia – I want more of her – and sit up when I only touch cold sheets. What the hell? Where is she? Has she already tried to escape?

With a growl, I jump out of bed and reach for my pants. That little vixen! I will hunt her down and kill her. No, wait. First, I will tie her to my bed and screw her into oblivion, and then I will kill her. Elize was the last person to make a fool of me.

My wolf instantly growls in protest at my murderous thoughts, and I take a deep breath to calm myself. Maybe it would be better not to jump to conclusions. Maybe she went to the bathroom or something.

Besides, it is not like I want her forever. Yes, she is my mate, but I still do not want one. The mate bond is nothing more than a compass. It shows you a person you are compatible with. It has nothing to do with love. And I want neither. I admit Nia is special. There is something about her that makes my wolf unreasonably crazy, but like me, he will grow tired of her eventually, and I will keep her with me until we are bored with her.

I ensure my mask is in place before I march to the basement. If she is not there, I will set out my warriors to find her. I yank open the door and stop in my tracks when I see Nia sleeping soundly in the bed.

A strange and unwelcome feeling – a combination of relief and anger - nestles in my chest as I look at her. Was last night so bad for her that she would rather sleep in a basement than in my bed? Am I truly such a monster that she could not wait to get away from me? Why the hell does it bother me? She is here; she agreed to my terms. Why do I care where she sleeps?

My wolf – and d**k – stirs excitedly when I step closer to the bed. I want her, and my wolf needs her, but I am not about to pounce on a sleeping beauty and bewilder her. For unknown reasons, it feels important to me that she wants this as much as I do. I want her to need me as I need her, and that will never happen if I am too harsh. I will wake her creatively.

Without pondering about it, I yank the covers off her, and she jolts awake. Startled, she stares at me, but my wolf and I are too excited that she is here to care.

“What are you doing?” She asks when I pull her pants down, but thankfully, she does not fight me.

Without answering her, I spread her legs, kneel on the bed and bury my face inside her crotch. I inhale her sweet magnolia scent until my head spins and glide my tongue along her slit.

“Wha … what …” She releases a soft gasp, and a low growl escapes from my chest as I caress her c******s with my tongue. I have done this countless times with countless women, but no one has ever tasted like this – sweet and intoxicating.

My tongue continues its onslaught, and Nia whimpers as her fingers dig into the mattress. I am about to add my fingers to the party when I decide against it. I want to feel her squirm against me just because of my tongue.

I lick and suck, swirling my tongue, and soon her entire body becomes rigid. She utters a soft cry, and then her legs tremble against me. I do not stop until her body spasms uncontrollably.

My tongue releases her c******s, and I inhale her scent long and deep before I stand and pull up her pants. I want to bury myself deep inside her, but not here. Not where Olga can walk in anytime and disturb us.

“Master,” she pants breathlessly, too weak to protest when I pick her up in my arms. “What are you doing?”

“This is no longer your room,” I answer as I carry her up the stairs and to my bed. I am not even close to being finished with her. She will at least cry out my name one more time before breakfast.