Aurora, the Summer Lady, is on her way to the Elven city of Lindalorendor. But what should be a courtesy call is complicated by the arrival of a wayward human and a sexy, foul-mouthed orc-woman. Can she balance the needs of Toby and Skrella against her own desires? Aurora won't be the only to be "Taken By the Fae!"
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
“I choose you, Mindorallen,” Aurora said. “For your heart and your beauty.”
“But not, I fear, for my skill in the bedchamber.” He smiled crookedly down at her. “I give you fair warning, my lady. Among my people I am counted uncommonly clumsy in the arts of love.”
“While I,” she retorted, “have no experience in pleasing a man at all.”
~You big liar,~ Summer said. ~With my knowledge to draw on, you could have him in a puddle in five minutes. Ten at the most. Even an elf pales in comparison to the skills a Queen of Summer has at her disposal.~
Quiet, you. I said I had no experience. Not no knowledge. Let the poor boy think he is teaching me.
While she held her internal debate, it seemed that Mindorallen was having one of his own. “My parents…”
“The room has a lock, does it not? And I hardly think your mother and father the sort to break down a door to halt our lovemaking.” She untied the belt and let the robe slip off her shoulders. “Please, Mindy. Make love to me.” She closed her eyes, waiting, hoping…
“If my lady would like to lie down?”
Her eyes popped open. “What?”
The red-headed elf ran a finger down her arm. “You are tense, Summer Lady. Let me relax you. How can you gain the full pleasure of our joining if your body and mind are not in harmony?”
My body and mind are in harmony, she was tempted to say. And both of them want you to screw me!
Instead she smiled and lay down on the bed, pillowing her head on her crossed arms. A rustle told her that Mindorallen had shed his trousers, and she risked a peek out of lowered lids as the bed sank beneath his weight. Whoa. Nice.
~If you like that sort,~ Summer sniffed.
And what do you prefer? Warm hands, gentle yet strong, settled on her shoulders, softly rubbing, and she sighed.
~Oh, every race has something to recommend them, and something to desire. The elves make lovemaking an art. But even artistry can pale if there is no passion. The dwarves are renowned for their endurance. But they are as insensitive as the stone and metal and jewels they work with. The halflings are light-hearted and gay. But everything is on the surface with them – all frivolity, no heart. The orcs are refreshingly direct in their desires. But so is a landslide.
~So it is with all of the people of faerie. Someday you will bear a daughter, and someday she will, in her own time, become the Summer Lady, while you become the Summer Queen. But do not look to find a lifemating. It has not happened with the queens for years beyond count.~
That’s a cheerful thought. Mindorallen’s hands moved lower, his thumbs rubbing her vertebrae. Knots of tension she had not even known existed loosened and flowed away under his skillful touch. Good Gods. If he is counted as clumsy among the elves, I might not survive a skilled lover!
Her breathing slowed, though the heat in her core grew no less. Her desire was only banked, not doused entirely. As his hands reached her tailbone, she canted her rear up invitingly, sighing as he kneaded her globes.
“You are lovely, my lady.” It was the first sound in minutes, the voice a reverent whisper. A tongue-tip touched the hollow of her back, and she moaned low in her throat, the folds of her cleft feeling hot and humid as a swamp. Her back arched as the tongue traced a line up her spine, going taut as a bow-string.
“Now, Mindorallen,” she breathed. “I can’t wait. Now! Please!”