CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Quinn~
Moira looked adorable, angelic, and utterly desirable in her wedding gown. And she was scared to death. He had known it was too soon. What on earth was he going to do? He had tried reassuring her, and she had only grown more rigid. She kept chewing her first mouthful of lobster as though it was cardboard and rubber.
He tried a bite. Rich and tangy dressing, tender flesh, melt-in-your-mouth perfection. He handed Moira her glass of champagne. “Have a sip.”
She gulped. Swallowed. “Thank you,” she croaked. Her eyes were huge pools of gray in her white face.
“You think Deputy Babcock is going to come and try to throw me out?” he asked.
“I hope not,” she spluttered. Her face went from white to red. She groaned. “This is such a stupid idea. How did I get sucked into this?”
His heart turned to ice. “It’s a little early to regret our marriage.”
“Not our marriage. Having a secret marriage. Have you ever tried to keep a secret in Mystic Bay?”
“I’m concealing my identity, remember?”
“And so far Lloyd and Wally have both made you. And the mermaid shifter at the Crab Hut. Lloyd has kept his mouth shut. But Wally and the Merryman girl have probably both told anyone who will stand still to listen that you’re a hunter.”
“Shift.” She was right. It had seemed pretty funny when little Hop-along Babcock had challenged him in defense of the fair maiden, but he was beginning to realize that if he didn’t demonstrate early and often that Moira was safe and happy in his bed, under his wings, he was liable to be lynched.
Dragons looked after their mates. He would die for Moira. But he didn’t think Babcock would be impressed if he told the bunny he would kill or be killed to keep Moira safe. Probably just convince Old Hop-along that he was a big, bad savage. That was the trouble with tremblers. They were scared of their own shadows, let alone the shadows cast by hunters.
But tonight, job one was to make sure Moira enjoyed her first time in his bed. She was shaking in those silly pale pink pumps she was wearing. Which was ridiculous. He was about to make her one happy, utterly satisfied fairy. If only he could figure out how to get her to unwind.
“Relax,” he said. “I’m not going to ravish you until I’ve eaten.”
She jumped. And then smiled sheepishly. “I guess I am a little tense.”
“Performance anxiety,” he said. He heaped lobster and salad on his plate. “But you need to eat to keep up your strength.”
Her eyes flashed. Excellent. He shoveled lobster into his mouth to keep from laughing.
“Are you sure that you are up to me? I bet I’m your first fairy.”
“You certainly are. Lot of firsts tonight. Eat, my darling, you’ll need all your resources.”
She took a small bite. Chewed and looked at him. She took a sip of champagne. “What about you?” she challenged him.
“It’s different for me,” he teased deadpan. “You being a virgin and all, you’ll never know what you’re missing, so I don’t have to worry.”
She forked up her meal and he could see her evaluating his words. She was a little bit turned on by his joke, but not yet loose enough to have snappy repartee on the tip of her tongue. He prodded her again. “Have you given any thought to how you’re going to please your new lord and master?”
She waved a hand. He was instantly blindfolded and gagged. Moira’s soft giggle floated in the air. “I may never have done this,” she said. “But I have a few fantasies of my own.”
“Mmph.” He made no move to remove either restraint, although his hands were unbound.
“What was that?” His gag had vanished, but not his blindfold.
“That,” she said imperiously, “is what happens to dragons who pull the wings off fairies.” His eyes were uncovered just as instantaneously as they had been covered. “Eat your supper.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He dug in. Looked across the table. Moira had regained her serenity and was eating with her customary enthusiasm. Just watching her eat was stimulating. Not that he needed much when he was close enough to breathe in her scent.
“I’m ready for dessert,” he announced. He gave her a lascivious leer.
“Okay. Let’s just stick these dishes on the counter.”
He leaned over. “I’m in the mood for fairy,” he growled. “Let’s find out what your love muffin tastes like.”
“My love muffin!” She began to laugh.
“What would you call it?” he asked with another over-the-top ogling glance.
No more laughing. “My pussy.” Her face was red.
“That too. Let’s go play doctor. I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours.”
“Your manly staff?” she teased.
“We dragons call that a dick,” he informed her gravely. “Or a dong.”
“Not a cock?”
“Oh, yeah.” He held out his hand. “Be gentle with me.”
She giggled. “I guess I am being silly.”
“Nope. Big changes ahead. Not to mention having sex with me. A life-changing experience.” He tugged her toward the bedroom. “That’s enough to give any female palpitations.”
Her giggles increased. Normally, he wasn’t a fan of giggling. But he was pretty sure Moira’s fit of the giggles was a symptom of her nervousness, rather than an indication of a childish approach to sex. “You’ll have to tell me what you like,” he said.
She dug in her heels. “I’ve never done this – remember?”
He picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. It was lovely. Serene. Modern. Not at all the prissy bower he had imagined. But a soothing space that made him feel welcome. And thank goodness the bed, while small, was not fairy-sized. He dumped her on it. Her skirts frothed around her shapely legs. He caged her with his arms and kissed her.
“Never touched yourself, my darling?” He shook his head. “Never? Not in what, thirty years?”
“Sixty-two.”
“What?”
“I’m sixty-two,” she said clearly.
That rocked him. “Wow. But my question stands. Are you truly untouched?”
“Of course not. But that isn’t sex.”
“Sure it is.” He licked his lips ostentatiously. “Now how do I get you out of this thing?”
She snapped her fingers and her elaborate gown vanished, leaving her in a lace bra and panties, and looking even more scared. Lovely, ripe, womanly. But frightened. That washed the starch out of his manly staff all right.
“That’s just wrong,” he told her. “Put your clothes back on. I get to undress you myself.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Trust me, you’ll enjoy it too.”
“All right.” The dress reappeared. She rolled over and presented him with a row of minute pearl buttons that ran from the edge of her gown past her bottom.
“This could take a while,” he told her happily. He knelt over her and set to work.
“Or not.” Her voice was muffled.
“We have all the time there is, sweetheart. Lie back and think of West Haven.”
That produced another round of giggles. “I’m on my front,” she gasped.
“Hmm. You tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”
“What if you do what I like?”
“I intend to. You can moan or something. I’ll be listening.” He ran his forefinger under the lace edge of the bodice, and dipped down to tickle her vertebra. “Your skin is like satin,” he murmured before he replaced his finger with his lips and tongue.
She jumped. “What are you doing?” she squeaked.
“Foreplay. Relax.” He popped the first little button. It was stiffer than it looked and revealed about a quarter inch more skin. He kissed it and blew softly where his lips had damped. Moira rewarded him by squirming into the bedding and purring. It took a long time to move down her spine, and his own breathing was more than a little ragged when he got to her rump.
Her lacy panties were filled out just right. He cupped one blushing globe, gave it a squeeze. “Come up onto your knees,” he said.
“You’re kneeling on my skirts, I don’t think I can move.”
He adjusted himself and she came up onto all fours. He slipped the dress down, cupped her breasts through the lace bra and felt their weight. Her skin was moist and her nipples were stiff. “Make it vanish,” he instructed.
The dress disappeared. So did her bra. He collapsed onto the bed and rolled her on top of him.
“You’re still fully dressed. Do I get to play valet, too?”
“I guess,” he croaked. He was way past ready. His cock was about to burst into flames. But he supposed Moira got to enjoy herself too.
“How does this work?” She pulled at his tie and tightened it to strangling point.
He covered her hands with his. “Not like that. Let me. Or better yet, use magic. I’m feeling kind of impatient myself.” He tossed the tie away.
She shook her head. Her breasts bobbled. “Turnabout is fair play,” she announced as she sat up on his belly and began to unbutton his shirt. “You’re hairless!” She giggled and smoothed his pecs with trembling fingers.
His whole body tensed at her touch. Waves of pleasure spread in intense ripples through his body straight to his heart – and his cock. “Dragons are.”
“But you have such a heavy beard!”
“Yeah. It’s a curse.” He put his hands on her waist and ran them down to her hips and back, savoring the soft suppleness of her pearly flesh.
She kissed the hollow of his throat, tasting it with her tongue. “You taste salty. Musky.”
“Probably.” Did she like that?
She kissed him there again and lapped a little lower, so he guessed she did. It was his turn to buck and twist. She laved his nipples and rolled the stiff points between thumb and forefinger. Another electric current ran down to his dick. It was already fully erect, but somehow the stupid thing sucked up even more blood. If this went on much longer, he was going to black out.