She needed him. He needed her. The energy between them was palpable, as it had been from the moment the two of them had first come together, and now, acting on it felt so very sweet.
“Duada,” she whispered, a playful smile on her face. But as she said it, there wasn’t any of the simpering reverence in it he usually heard.
Jasmine was too much of a free spirit for that. And that made him stiffen even faster.
“You minx,” he almost laughed into her ear, his hands slipping up to her breasts and squeezing them, “I ought to put you in your place for acting so irreverently towards someone like me.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she whispered back, turning to face him, and she looked every bit as beautiful as ever, that earthy, natural gorgeousness exuded in her every expression, her spirit wild and untamed.
“I would,” he said back in a husky voice, his hands grasping her hips as he pressed her back onto the lavish bed. “I want to claim you, Jasmine. Come back with me to the court. I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more, and I want to fuck you senseless.”
“You can have one of those now,” she said, the need in her voice absolutely dire, and Duada wasted no more time. He tore her shirt away, letting her bra fall to the side and exposing those stiff nipples to him, which he attacked with his mouth immediately.
A gasp escaped her as he did, and the taste of her was sweet. He tormented her nipples before sliding her pants off. She was wet and ready for him, and absolutely begging to be ravished.
Already naked, the prince slid into her, his thick cock spearing her tight pussy as she let out a sharp cry, a sound full of lust for him, for everything he was.
But that desire was almost drowned out by how much he lusted for her. He wanted to ravage her, to make her feel sensations she’d only dreamed of, that only a fae could provide. He moved within her with uncanny dexterity, his cock immediately striking that sensitive spot within her. It was as if she was made for him, and he for her, all his past dallying only training for this moment. His body was aching, he realized, and it was an ache only this human woman could ease.
He took her, hard and fast, realizing that his body could not be stopped in its relentless pursuit of what it wanted. Of what he knew himself to want.
As he thrust into her, it was as if a sweet aroma were filling the room, his every sense elated at the feeling of succumbing to this base need his aristocratic mind had been trained to resist, or at least to restrain. This was a human. She was just a worker in a coffee shop who couldn’t get a date. One out of millions around her.
Yet she was so unlike any other, and Duada couldn’t keep his hands off her.
She arched her back under him, begging for more, for the kind of pleasure only he could give her, and he drove himself further and further, closer to release…
*
Duada woke up with a snort, falling off of the bed with a dull thud. He groaned, pushing himself up from the floor and holding his head.
Blood rushed to his head as he stood, feeling wobbly. His eyes widened as he regained his senses, realizing what had just happened, and he sat down slowly, mindful of the rock-hard bulge outlined by his fine pants.
Fae dreams were not things to be taken lightly. Dreams were the voice of the unconscious speaking to their hidden emotions. They were the words of their instincts, of intuition begging to be set free and cultivated. They were the invisible fire that burned beneath the surface.
And Duada’s told him a message that was loud and clear: he desired Jasmine. Deeply.
After running a hand through his dark hair and shutting his eyes tight, he got up and stripped off his clothing, heading for the shower. Soon, hot steam poured out of the door as the faery washed himself off, the suds running down his body.
His glamour gave him a regal, refined look, but when he let it all down, he was still in possession of a toned, impeccably maintained body. He took care of himself. And yet it was so rare that he let people see his true self, the side of him both physically and mentally that was without the barriers he put up.
Was he really considering opening up to a human? But this wasn’t just any human, this was Jasmine. He felt like he knew her better in these few days together than he knew many of the fae back at the court.
He let the water wash over his face, basking in the warmth as he closed his eyes and debated with himself for a long while. When he opened them again, he had a decision.
Duada knew he had to speak to her. William be damned, that man was nothing compared to a fae. He had to go to her and do… something. He let out a sigh as he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. Was this how humans always felt about people they felt strongly about?
It would be tonight, too. It had to be. He wasn’t about to get any sleep in his current state, that much was clear. Not while his heart was in a frenzy.
Fresh from the shower, he slipped a stylish green shirt over his shoulders, iron-gray pants on his legs, and sleek black oxfords on his feet, rolling his sleeves up before checking himself in the mirror. He frowned at himself as he practically preened, making sure the shade of his shirt perfectly accentuated his vibrant eyes that seemed to glow with greater intensity than ever tonight.
He was always extremely careful about how he presented himself in public, particularly before women, but how he felt now was far more than that. He felt vested in how she looked at him now. No glamour, no magic—he would have her look on him as he was, and he wanted to make her desire him.
No, he told himself, I can’t think like that now. Well, I can, but—
He let out a growl of a murmur at himself as he ensured he was satisfied with his appearance—simple, yet toned and masculine. This was too much fuss in the wrong direction for his liking. So why did it give him a certain strange pleasure to make himself look so for her?
A few moments later, he was out the door, heading back down through the hotel lobby and into the streets to hail a cab.