Chapter ☆ Thirty

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Feyre didn't know how long she slept. She didn't know how she got back to the townhouse but had a pretty good idea. The pillow beneath her smelled like sea and citrus and Rhysand's scent alone calmed whatever lingering urge may have been lurking inside of her. She did remember what happened at the shop, and Feyre found herself clenching her legs tight at just the thought. As she further assessed she was still very sore, and wondered if the pleasant discomfort would ever truly go away. She shifted slightly under the blankets and discovered that although she was indeed still wearing the red lace from the store, she was more decently covered in a soft sweater... at least he was considerate, considering... 

She shook her head slightly against the pillow and instantly regretted it- it pounded like the drums on Calanmai and she clenched her eyes tight, letting out a groan as she carefully rolled over...

Rhys, who had been comfortably half-sleeping beside Feyre in their massive bed, felt her stir. Her groan rousing him from his light sleep. She still had her eyes closed. Rhys contemplated letting her sleep a while longer, but thought better of it. Stealthily, as to not disturb her where she lay, Rhys maneuvered in between her thighs once more. He knew she was probably sore, but... Oh well. He was sore from getting the shit beat out of him by a certain big-mouthed Illyrian. He gently spread her thighs a bit further and began by kissing his way up her inner thigh. 'Good morning', he sang down the bond, gently caressing her mind.

She tensed the minute he touched her for no other reason than she didn't know if she'd survive another round. She wanted to open her eyes, to look down at him, but her head hurt and the room was bright, so she remained where she lay, teeth clenched. "What are you doing, Rhysand?" Because this deserved his full name.

Rhys did not stop his kissing. His only response was a muttered, "My mother always told me breakfast was the most important meal of the day," against her inner thigh before he moved further up.

She wanted to laugh any cry at the same time. "Didn't you eat enough earlier?"

"You wouldn't deny a growing male his daily nutrition, would you?" he asked with a quirked brow and a glint in his eye as he looked up at her, running his tongue along the outside of her slit.

And damn him, the lingering sensitivity had her writhing, leaning up into an almost sitting position with her arms propped behind her. She looked down to him, despite the headache and the sore eyes... And the sight of him between her legs would have undone her if here was anything left to undo. She knew her body betrayed her while he lay there between her legs... Cauldron damn him to hell

Rhys heard her damning him, and so he'd really give her something to damn him for. These were his thoughts as he flicked his tongue over her overly-sensitive apex. The sensation probably an equal mix of pleasure and pain. And he held her gaze as he brought a hand up and worked two fingers inside her, scissoring them to make room for a third.

The moan that escaped her lips was unlike any Feyre had ever made before. The sensations Rhys was bringing forth were pleasurable, but the edge of pain lingered and she honestly thought that if anything would break her, this would be it. His mouth at her apex sent a visible shudder through her core and done her legs, which had now bent and spread themselves of their own volition. But his fingers... Their constant penetration and fullness knocked the wind out of her, and she collapsed onto her elbows as her brain tried to comprehend what was happening. "Rhys... please..." she could barely get out

Rhys wasn't sure what she was asking for. Whether she was asking him to stop, was asking for more, for him to slow down, to speed up. Whether she wanted more than his fingers inside her. So Rhysand's only response was a third digit inserted into her core, joining the other two as they moved in and out of her rhythmically. As his tongue lapped at her apex, swirling it around the swollen nub.

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