“Your beauty is otherworldly.” John’s dark eyes were intense, but he flashed a dimple like he knew I needed his smile to put me at ease.
I couldn’t stop myself from making a face.
Mother had been stunning, one of the prettiest women in all the fae realm, and she’d been awful.
I didn’t want to be pretty.
I wanted to be powerful.
I wanted to be scary.
John shook his head like he could read my thoughts, and he grinned down at me. “You’re also a curmudgeon, an angry beastie who I just want to scoop up and protect. You’re like a cute Chimera that fights for her friends and feels sympathy for her enemies. You’re my little Smurf. What did I tell you when I first met you?”
My cheeks flushed, and I tried to look away with embarrassment, but he held my chin tightly so I couldn’t.
I mumbled back self-consciously, “You said we were going to be best friends.”
John’s breath tickled my cheek as his eyes darkened. “I lied.”
“What?” I tried to pull back to look at his face, but he wouldn’t let me pull away.
John whispered, “I took one look into your psycho blue eyes, and I knew you were going to be mine.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips and said into my mouth, “I just didn’t want to scare you away.”
I huffed as his tongue stroked against mine. “But I was a dude?” I asked unsurely.
“Yeah, a stunningly pretty dude,” John said with a grin, and I narrowed my eyes.
He nipped at my lower lip with his teeth. “Don’t be coy. You know I’m bisexual. I was playing the long game. Friendship first, then dirty amazing sex.”
A laugh burst from my lips, and he swallowed it greedily. His tongue plundering my mouth.
“So you’re not my best friend?” I asked, still slightly confused about what was happening.
John ripped his mouth away, his chest heaving beneath my hands. He growled. “No, Aran. I’m still your fucking best friend.”
I tried to hold it back, but a smile split my face. “In your dreams.”
John kissed my temple as his callused thumb stroked over my hip bone. His fingers crept lower, then he cupped me possessively with his hand.
“Who’s your best friend?” he asked roughly.
I gasped as he held me intimately.
I couldn’t speak.
John flashed his dimples. “That’s what I thought.” His fingers dipped into my core, and I moaned with pleasure.
Bent forward as my back spasmed with agony.
John pressed his lips against mine, rubbed his fingers against me, and said, “Such a perfect, scary little princess.”
It was too much.
Ecstasy mixed with agony.
It was overwhelming.
I didn’t know what to feel.
“Please just get on with it,” I said desperately.
John was trying to make it good for me, but he didn’t know it wasn’t possible.
I begged, “Please, now.”
I scooched my hips forward so my core was pressed against his hardness. Practically sitting on his lap, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and buried my face into his chest. I couldn’t look at him.
“Are you okay with this, Aran?” John whispered. “We can always fight them to the death.” He winked.
“I’m okay, if you’re okay?” I mumbled into his skin.
“Oh, I’m okay.” John pressed featherlight kisses to both my temples. His voice was a gravelly rasp. “Lift up your hips, bestie.”
I relaxed against him and obeyed.
This was my friend, and I was safer with him than any other man in the universe. That mattered.
“So perfect,” John praised.
A hardness was pressed against me.
I breathed roughly and bit down on the fabric across his chest. John moved both his hands until they grabbed my butt. He squeezed, and his nails dug into my skin as he supported me like I weighed nothing.
John moaned against my neck, “Fuck, Aran, you’re so precious.” He kissed and nipped at my sensitive skin.
I trembled with ecstasy, then shuddered as stabbing pain streaked down my back.
And I just knew.
It was going to hurt so badly.
John slammed his powerful hips forward, and I bit down on his pec to hide my scream.
The pleasure was so good.
The pain was so much worse.
It felt like he was splitting me in two.
John immediately stopped moving. “You okay?” He peppered kisses against my closed eyes, my nose, then my cheeks.
I bit down on my lower lip as shock waves rolled through me.
“Please, you’re killing me.” He kissed the corners of my mouth. “Speak to me, Aran.”
I shivered as he said my name like it meant something special to him. Like he was devoted to me.
“I’m fine, dude,” I said shakily as I tangled my fingers in his messy hair. “You can keep going.” Please get this over with quickly.
John groaned roughly, “No. I need. Let you. Adjust.”
The overly full sensation of him seated deep inside me made it feel like someone was dragging a knife down my spine.
Pain blinded my vision, and everything went fuzzy.
It was agony.
John’s arms were wrapped around my shoulders protectively.
It felt like a hot knife was being jammed into my shoulder blades and twisted until my skin ripped off.
I was in hell.
“Just go, please. Finish it quick,” I gasped and tried to convey with my tone what I couldn’t put into words.
John must have heard the desperation in my voice because his arms tightened, and he pistoned his hips and moaned with pleasure.
I bit down on my lip to stifle a scream.
“Fuck, how are you this perfect?” he moaned as he bounced me roughly on his lap.
I tasted blood, and it took everything in me not to fall apart and shove him away.
It was so painful.
John shuddered and held me tight as he pulsed deep inside me. Wetness flooding between us.
Thank the sun god. It was over.
“Aran,” John moaned as he rubbed circles on my lower back.
He didn’t say anything else, and neither did I.
The white spots receded from my vision, and the sensation of being skewered alive slowly dissipated.
The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming.
“Are you okay?” John pulled himself out of me as he kissed my forehead, his arms still wrapped around me. “Please talk to me.”
I panted and whispered a shaky, “I’m fine.” My face warmed as I whispered, “was it good for you?”
John made a pained noise as he peppered delicate kisses across my nose. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”
His fingers traced a soothing pattern across my back, which was having the unintended consequence of causing little blips of pain.
It hurt but I didn’t tell him to stop because I didn’t want him to.
His fingers stopped moving.
He stiffened.
I pulled back to see what had made him pause.
I followed his gaze.
He was staring down at his lap, and it was covered in streaks of pink.
Mortification churned my gut, and I prayed a pillar would randomly fall over and crush me to death.
John slowly looked up at me. “Aran.” His dark eyes hardened as he realized what I’d given him.
All traces of a smile slipped off his face.