Feyre was close - so damn close..... And he stopped.
The bastard actually stopped. Her eyes widened incredulously and her jaw dropped while her chest heaved and her core ached. "Why did you stop?!" she scolded, not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.
"Because I'm not done with you yet," Rhys replied smoothly, with a wickedly delighted smirk at her reaction. He laid his cheek against her inner thigh, aware of his breath still beat against her core as he waited for her body to come down. His fingers rubbing soothing circles into her hip as he watched her. Content to just watch and wait.
She was having none of that. She moved as fast as she'd be able to, if she could get around the hand that pinned her. She needed him, wanted him, and was ready to pounce...
"Ah ah ah." He shook his head as he sensed what she was about to do. His eyes twinkling as he watched her all but glower above him. His grip tightened on her hip. "Stay." His voice playful but firm in his command. He wondered, for a moment, if she would actually listen.
She glared. And scowled. And growled something feral deep in her throat. But she didn't have the energy to fight against his grip. Not when he all but drew every ounce from her already. "Rhysand..." Another breathy warning as she was stuck beneath his grasp.
"Yes, dear?" he cooed causally. As though he wasn't slowly torturing her. He knew, though. Knew she'd be glad of his efforts when her climax finally took her... as he finally took her. And as he thought of all the possible ways in which he could bring her to the brink of release, he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. Not taking his eyes off her.
She growled again, giving in for this round, all but collapsing back on the bed, bringing an arm over her face as she tried to call herself. She was not going to win, but again, that was the game. "I will remember this," she threatened casually, shuddering against the kiss in her thigh. She was all but tempted to slam her legs shut and snap his neck in the process... such an arrogant bastard, her mate, and she suppressed a smile at the thought of what she would do to him...
He roared with laughter as he lay between her legs, hearing her contemplate murdering him. "Is that supposed to encourage me to continue?" he teased, still laughing. He wasn't sure if it really counted as surrendering to him if she was thinking of ways to kill him for not giving her what she wanted. "Spoiled, spoiled little girl," Rhys purred, going back to kissing her thigh. Not because it was part of the game... but because his lips craved her taste as much as he craved her so wholly.
She grumbled something incoherent but along the lines of damning him to the Cauldron and hoping he drowned in the Sidra as he lay more kisses along her thighs. She knew what he'd make her say- that he'd make her beg until she could no longer say the words and yield every part of her body to him. She knew that she could endure- she was High Fae. She had as much stamina and will-power as anyone else- even this High Lord between her legs, her equal. And so she nestled back on the pillow, a slow satisfied smile curling on her lips as she finally relaxed. Let him do his worst...
"There are other places I'd much rather be drowned," Rhys replied, gaze flickering back to her sodden center. Soaking wet, because of him. He felt a fresh wave of pride... accompanied by something more primal. He contemplated, only for a minute, abandoning this game of his and just flipping her over and fucking her into the mattress with enough ferocity that they might need a new bed. Or a new wall or both. He took a breath. Two breaths. Then continued his work as he began kissing up her thigh toward her abdomen, away from her core. He wondered if it was possible to make her come undone solely by teasing, by stimulating her breasts. Her nipples. Well, he'd find out.
She choked out a laugh that cut into a slight moan of disappointment as his kissed trailed back up, away from where she wanted-needed them the most. "You can try."
"Objections?" he inquired against her skin, his kisses halting mid abdomen as he looked up at her. He brought his hand up to tweak with her nipple, to pinch and flick and massage it. Trying to make it sensitive even before he got up there as he awaited her response.
She glanced down at him from where she lay in the pillow. "Even if I did it wouldn't stop you." She moaned slightly at the sensitivity that grew as her nipple reacted to him, but an idea silently formed in her mind as she brought her other hand down to her other breast, drawing circles around and caressing her own nipple, the feeling as much of a rush but worth it to endure. "I wonder though," she purred as she massaged her own breast, for him. "How well can you play your own game?"
"I might be persuaded into another course of action, if given the right incentive," Rhys purred as he resumed kissing up toward her chest. But he movements halted, even his hand stuttered on her breast as his focus zeroed in on her opposite breast that she now toyed with herself. He growled, a low, dangerous sound reverberating off the walls. He knew what she was doing. His free hand moved between her legs a moment later, once again teasing her entrance. Once again resuming his kissing, a bit less confidant and controlled, albeit.
She smiled at his groan, his hesitation, and moaned as his hand returned to between her legs. If he wasn't going to give her the release she craved, she would take it for herself. The massaging of her own breast intensified, and she moved herself against the hand at her entrance. She even began to move her other hand down, down, down as though to help it, guide it where she needed it to go.
He growled again, something snapping in him. He sent out a ripple of shadows that took form... took the form of phantom hands, gripping Feyre's wrists and pulling them away from where she'd been touching- or had been about to be touching- herself. His shadow hands pinning her hands of flesh and bone to the mattress above her as he continued his work at a leisurely pace, removing his hand from her core now. Just to spite her as he sank his teeth into her nipple, reaching up to cup and massage the one she'd been playing with moments before.
Feyre did not see that coming... she had seen Rhys use his power as such, but that he'd use them on her. She was fucked. She looked down at him, the surprise evident in her face as she tested the restraints against her wrists. There was no escape- so long at the most powerful High Lord in Prythian wanted her as such, she would remain as such. "Dirty trick," she murmured as her breathing deepened in anticipation. She was indeed his slave.
He saw the the astonishment on her face. He ignored it. He knew she knew she was fucked, that she was now completely at his mercy. What he decided to give her might be what she needed, what she craved, but it would have to be enough because she couldn't do a gods-damned thing about it. He strengthened the shadow hands, ensuring there was no way she could wretch herself free of their grip as they pinned her wrists above her head, phantom fingers digging into the flesh of her wrists. "I'm not the only one who likes to play dirty," Rhys growled around her nipple, releasing his teeth's grip on it. Circling the mound of pinkish flesh with his tongue instead, for the moment.
She let out a breathy chuckle as she lay her head back on the pillow, closing her eyes and trying to breathe through the sensation last upon her nipple, her breasts. In some way, she sensed she deserved this, for she had done the same to him just earlier that night. But Rhys... he was so much more dominant than she. He would be able to draw this out as the sun rose and set over the Sidra on the next day. And Cauldron damn her, she would let him, even if she wasn't pinned beneath his magic. She brought feet to the bed, bending her legs up and her knees in, if only just to touch him, feel him more as her hand could no longer.
Rhys was aware of her legs as they came into contact with him; he allowed it. There was nothing she could do with her legs or her feet that would deter him from his mission. He would have her writhing, begging for his cock inside her before he allowed himself to take her. He wanted to see her desperate. He formed another set of shadow hands, willing them to massage her inner thighs, so close to her pelvis, so close to where she wanted to be touched. But not quite. As he continued his work on her chest, massaging and kneading the breast that didn't have the attention of his mouth.
