A Storm of Flames and Deceit

40. Prints

Nephele

Eris was... bothered. I could tell by how poured he was into the reports he was reading, his glasses hung low on his nose as he pushes his hair off his brows. I know it wasn't easy. Despite himself, he loved Darian, and I know it can be hard for him to face off against someone he loves.

But Darian had decided to stay at the palace, and because we didn't want to look afraid, we admitted him. But we didn't have enough knights properly vetted for Eris and I to feel comfortable staying under the same roof as him. He said that while we were at the palace, I would never be alone. There would be at least six knights flanking me at all times if Eris himself weren't on my arm.

So I suggested we go back home to the tree house.

"Eris," I say calmly, setting my reading aside. "Relax your jaw."

"Darian and Lord Burton have to be working with somebody," Eris insists. "My spies haven't reported anything on your father, and as far as they can tell, the mortal queens have all but vanished from the land altogether. It shouldn't-"

Slowly, I stand as he rambles on, walking towards his desk. His attention stays on the page, but I don't register anything he's telling me anyway. It's all rooted in precautious cleverness.

He stop when I lay my palm on his spy report, leaning over to cup his cheek with my other hand. "Eris," I murmur, fully aware he can see down my nightgown. In fact, I'm counting on it. "You need to relax."

He narrows his eyes up at me, forcing himself not to look at my breasts. "You think you can really distract me that easy?"

I smile, crawling further onto the desk, sitting primly on top of his precious spy reports. "I think I've done historically well at distracting you," I reply easily. "It's not good for you when you start getting like this, when you start obsessing over problems, losing sleep."

He groans to himself. "I don't want to sleep," he mutters unhappily.

"Good," I smirk, leaning forward. "Me neither."

He takes my lips then, kissing me with a ferocity that never fails to surprise me. "Get off my reports," he mumbles in between kisses.

I chuckle, my nightgown riding up my thigh as I tilt my head at him in challenge. "Make me."

His eyes narrow. "Up," he seethes, not waiting for my obedience before he pulls me to my feet, kicking his chair away. Where I think he'll push me away in a clearly building frustration, he instead spins me around, my ass rubbing against his hips. "Bend over."

Again, he gives me no time to obey before pushing me down against the wood, papers scattering carelessly. A moan splits from my lips as he rolls my nightgown up to my waist. His hands are red hot as he groans at my lack of underwear. I smile over my shoulder at him, provoking him further.

I hear the clasp of his buckle unhooking, the Swift fastenings of his pants. I lick my lips. "You think you're so cute," he sputters. "Making me like this."

I nod, smiling. "I might," I confirm. "I might need this more than you do."

He laughs gruffly. "I'm going to make you feel how absolutely wrong you are about that," he promises, gripping my ass with warm fingers.

I bite my lip. "Do your worst, Hot Stuff."

He doesn't hold back past then, thrusting into me possibly deeper than I've ever felt him. We've never been in this position before. I would've thought I wouldn't like it, that it would be too impersonal not to be looking at him as he fucks me, but hell, it's like my other senses are being magnified.

I think I can feel him in my stomach as his thrusts build, my abdomen flattening against the table. A moan falls from my lips as I grip the top edge of the table, muscles flexed. He slides into me so fluidly I wonder how I feel anything, but the pounding of my rising pleasure is very real, nearly tangible.

He grips my ass hotly, my skin feeling the rush of a slight heat. My eyes squeeze shut as he pounds into me, driving my thighs more and more into the desk. His hands tighten on my hips, surely leaving pink prints in their place as he groans.

My brows pull together, my body flexing around him, anticipating every stroke. "Eris," I whisper loosely. I don't think I can hold on much longer.

He fucks me harder, and my orgasm crests not soon after. Seconds later, he spills, calling out my name as his breath pulls haggardly. My grip on the table loosens as we both catch our breath. I can't even think, can't even quantify how I feel.

"Shit," he swears from behind me.

I roll my eyes, standing straight up. "I'm sure your precious spy reports are fine-"

"No," he says abruptly, tugging me to the ornate mirror hung in the hall. "Look."

He lifts my nightgown up in the mirror, showing me my backside. As I had suspected, there were two pink prints on my ass, the skin so slightly burned. "Neph, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Eris," I interrupt him. "I'm fine. Better than fine actually. That felt... good. Better than good."

"I burned you," he frowns, brushing my curls out of my face.

"I know," I wink, dropping my voice into a whisper. "I kinda liked it. You should do it more often."

He doesn't look even a little amused. I huff, rolling my eyes. "I'm fine. It feels like a sunburn. Barely hurts," I assure him.

He lifts me into his arms, careful of my ass as he ticks his arms under my knees and back. "I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"I'm not," I answer. "If you want, you can kiss it better."

He rolls his eyes, finding a smile. "I think that'd be best," he agrees, and I chuckle.

"It's fitting," I tell him earnestly. "You've always been a pain in my ass."

He sticks his tongue out at me, and I laugh, returning the gesture as he lays me gently in our bed, making good on his promise to kiss all sorts of places below my hips.