ACOMAF (Rhys's POV)

This Mask Does Not Scare Me (Chapter 42)

"I'll leave you to rot the next time you have a nightmare," she said, poison behind those words. More and more these days, I seemed to come up with the proper antidote.

"No, you won't," I teased. "You liked seeing me naked too much."

"Prick."

But her fingers tightened on me. And it loosed a deep laugh rumbling out of my chest. The gates to the Hewn City loomed not terribly far off in the distance, but for just a moment, they were a little further away in my mind.

I shifted my arms around Feyre as she adjusted against me, her head still buried at my neck. Something brushed along the underside of my wing, too quick to register, until -

A tremor ran down the column of my spine as Feyre softly ran one delicate finger over my wings, forcing a low groan to hiss out between my lips. A groan that was guttural and primal and enough that Feyre snatched that mischievous, unsuspecting little finger right back.

"That," I said a bit breathlessly, trying not to register what my cock was or wasn't doing in response, "is very sensitive."

My eyes met Feyre's as she quickly tilted her face up against my chest to consider me. "Does it tickle?"

Cauldron no - not if the good degree of heat that had already pooled below my waist was any indication.

I thought a moment, excusing myself to the trees and mountaintops to shove certain inclinations aside, and whispered, "It feels like this," before blowing softly into Feyre's ear. She rewarded me with a shudder in her back and better access to that beautiful damned neck of hers. The skin was hot and just a hair's breath beneath where my lips rested.

"Oh," was all she said, a small gasp. I smiled and removed myself from that delicate skin of hers.

"If you want an Illyrian male's attention, you'd be better off grabbing him by the balls. We're trained to protect our wings at all costs. Some males attack first, ask questions later, if their wings are touched without invitation."

I should have known Feyre wouldn't simply leave it there, though I didn't quite expect, "And during sex?" to come flying so readily out of that mouth. A flicker of pleasure swam through that delicious pool of heat in my crotch.

"During sex, an Illyrian male can find completion just by having someone touch his wings in the right spot."

"Have you found that to be true?"

Now I couldn't look away. Feyre's eyes were dancing on my chest and slowly rising higher to meet me - toy with me even. Cauldron - what would she do once we were inside the mountain?

"I've never allowed anyone to see or touch my wings during sex," I admitted. "It makes you vulnerable in a way that I'm not... comfortable with."

Feyre peered off into the mountains - bored, apparently, and drawled, "Too bad."

"Why?"

She shrugged, her face appearing rather taut. And damn me to my grave, I hated that even in ways she might never find herself concerned with, I might have disappointed her somehow.

And yet - "Because I bet you could get into some interesting positions with those wings."

A roar of laughter stumbled blindly out of my chest, and before I knew what I was doing, my head was nuzzling into Feyre's side, inhaling the fresh scent of her hair that sped my blood along at a tumultuous pace, grazing the cool skin of her scalp beneath with my nose. My lips met her ear, readily parting to apply a reckless kiss of appreciation.