“Yes,” I gasp in return, arching my neck back to give him better access.
“We have rules,” he moans.
“I trump your rules.”
He chuckles softly at that, lifting me high enough to rest his forehead on my collarbone and caress my chest with the brush of his soft exhales. “Sorry, Vexy, you don’t.”
I pull at his shirt again, and a loud fabric tearing sound fills the room.
“Did you just rip my shirt?” he asks.
“Just a little bit,” I giggle.
Then I pull again, the small tear easily running straight up the seam on the side. It shouldn’t feel this good destroying his clothes, especially because I’ll probably want to wear them later, but the sound makes me giddy and reckless.
He presses his lips to mine, stopping me with a long kiss before saying, “Stop destroying my clothes.” But he doesn’t remove his lips from mine, so the words are muffled and more funny than serious.
Which makes me laugh, and him lean back with a broad smile. His blue eyes are alive as he runs his tongue across his lips.
“What do I taste like?” I ask, before realizing that’s kind of a weird question.
He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth before focusing on me again.
“Like something I can’t have,” he says, moving back and letting my feet fall to the floor. I’m about to growl at him, not again, when he adds, “Quick, Killian’s coming.” He tugs me to the side and opens the larder door. “Quick,” he repeats, giving me a shove inside.
Uncontrollable giggles burst from me, apparently I’m easily amused when drunk.
Somehow we both manage to fit. I’m curious as to why we’re even in here but enjoying the mystery – so I take a seat on another large sack of flour with my back against the wall and only a few handspans between my head and the roughly-crafted larder ceiling. Seth has no room to sit, and definitely no room to stand, so he kneels in front of me. Copper in the air, and a huge smile on his face, then shuts the door and cuts off almost all the light.
There’s just a sliver around the doorframe. He also cuts off the circulation of air, and it’s pretty obvious a family of mice calls the larder home.
My foot brushes against a crate of Silvari wine, and without thinking, I grab a bottle and pop the cork, taking quick sips of the thick red liquid… mmmm….
Wine, I think, which sets off more light giggles.
He mouths something that looks like, ‘Play along,’ before moaning, “Ohhh, Vexy. Mm, there. Oh, more.”
He rubs his arms up and down over his body, throwing exaggerated shoulder movements and even a head flick. My eyes nearly pop out of my chuckin’ head.
What the bralls is he doing?
“Kiss me, Vexy,” he says with a seductive drawl on the last syllables.
Killian’s boots make the floorboards creak, somewhere in the sitting room, and getting closer.
Seth smacks his lips in a kissing noise, and I finally get it.
The aim of his game is to piss Killian off. Which is a little crushing because I’d much rather be actually getting naked right now. I mean, wouldn’t it be better to earn whatever beating Killian is about to give us?
Seth looks at me and smiles, deep and playful, and I’m unable to resist. I part my lips and let out a desire-filled moan. Falling into Seth’s game.
“Oh, Seth,” I murmur, followed by some sounds that belong behind the hay bales.
I take a long sip on my wine, then put the bottle down. Filling the larder with breathy exhales and running my hands all over my body.
The hand movements are overkill since no one can see us, but Seth was doing it, so I do it too. Only I’m pretty sure I do it better because for the third time tonight he’s drawn in close to me. Maybe he’s drunk too, or some Allure is playing at the air. Because he’s doing a really shit job at honoring the don’t-get-too-intimate-with-Shade rule.
He grips my knees, his fingers pressing firmly to part them wide and move himself into the V.
“Vexy,” he gasps, just a tiny bit louder than needed.
His gaze lowers to my lips, watching intently as I gasp, “Seth. Oh, Seth.”
I’m good at this game.
“Vexy,” he whispers.
“Mmm, yes, Seth, yes. That feels so good. Don’t stop,” I say, pitching my voice in all the right places.
Killian stops at the larder, the tips of his boots visible under the poorly-made door.
A wicked smile takes over my features, and I mouth, ‘You started it’. The sparkle in Seth’s blue eyes doesn’t waver.
“Fuck, Seth, lick me,” I moan – hard. The words deep and raspy, probably from too much giggling earlier.
Seth’s eyes widen, and in the same instant Killian rips the door open. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t rip it right off its hinges. He fills the frame completely, and Seth tries to jump out of the way, but Killian ignores him and reaches for me. He grabs my collar and pulls me out of the larder, slamming the door shut and latching it.
“It was a jest, brother,” Seth shouts, trying the handle with a loud rattle but no luck.
“I know,” Killian whispers.
He’s still holding me by the collar, which forces me to stand on the tips of my toes.
“But if anyone is going to lick her, it’s me,” he growls.
What?!
I catch a glimpse of the most wicked smile I’ve ever seen – kind of wicked-scary which is worse than Seth’s wicked-mischief – before Killian leans in and runs the tip of his tongue up the side of my face.
From chin to hairline.
Not big and wet and nasty – but almost like he’s actually tasting me. A slow, gentle tracing, his breath teasing along the moist line.
“Delicious,” he says, letting go of me and walking off.
Just like that.
Out of the kitchen and out of the cottage.
For a long breath, I just watch him disappear. Well, that’s a lie, it’s more like a long moment and
