A Court of Silver Flames (A Court of Thorns and Roses #4) by Sarah J. Maas

So Nesta braced her hands on the arms of his chair as she brushed a kiss to his neck.

Cassian’s breath caught. But she pressed another kiss to the soft, warm skin of his neck, just beneath his ear. Another, lower now, closer to the collar of his dark shirt.

He trembled, and she kissed the hard knot in the center of his throat. Licked it.

Cassian shifted in his chair, groaning softly. His hand rose to clasp her hip, as if he’d push her away, but she removed him. “Let me,” she said against his neck. “Please.”

He swallowed, and that hard knot moved against her mouth. But he didn’t stop her, and so Nesta kissed him again, moving to the other side of his neck. Reaching that spot just beneath his ear as she laid a hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat hammering into her palm.

She didn’t kiss his mouth. She didn’t want that distraction. Not as she slid between him and the table and dropped to her knees.

His eyes went wide. “Nesta.”

She reached for the top of his pants, the bulge already pressing through. “Please,” she said again, and met his stare. From where she knelt between Cassian’s legs, he towered over her, but the edge in his eyes softened almost imperceptibly before he nodded. He reached to help her with the buttons and stays, but she lightly laid a hand atop his.

Her fingers were steady, sure, as she unfastened his pants. Her head wholly clear.

The muscles in his thighs shifted against her as she pulled him free and nearly gasped.

His cock was enormous. Beautiful, and hard, and absolutely enormous. Her mouth dried out, every plan she’d had requiring sudden reassessment. There was no way he’d fit entirely in her mouth. Perhaps no way he’d even fit in her body.

But she sure as hell wanted to try.

Her fingers shook a little as she stroked them down the thick, long shaft. The skin was so soft—softer than silk or velvet. And he was hard as steel beneath. He shuddered, and she lifted her eyes to find his gaze fixed on her hand.

“How do you like it?” she asked, her voice breathy as hot need washed through her. She wrapped her hand around his cock—her fingers barely able to reach around him completely. “Gentle?” She made a feather-soft pass over him, squeezing lightly.

Cassian shook his head, as if beyond words.

She stroked him again, slightly harder. “Like this?”

His chest heaved, his teeth shining as he gritted them. But he shook his head.

Nesta smiled, and when she pumped him a third time, she squeezed hard, letting her nails graze the sensitive underside of his shaft.

His hips arced off the chair, and she pinned a hand to them. “I see,” she murmured, and did it again. Harder still, twisting her fist as she reached the round head.

He tried to arch into her hand, but she pinned him again with that other hand.

“And this?” she purred, head lowering. “Do you like this?”

Nesta licked across his broad head, tongue sliding into the small slit across its tip. She licked up the small bead of moisture already gathered there.

Everything in her body turned molten; a surge of wetness slicked between her thighs as the taste of him filled her mouth, salt and something more, something vital.

“Oh, gods,” Cassian panted. And the words, the groan they were borne on, were so delicious that Nesta sucked his tip into her mouth and grazed her tongue along its underside.

He leaned his head back against the chair, hissing.

She licked up his shaft in one long motion. Rubbed her thighs together as she tasted him, felt all that hot, proud steel against her mouth. She licked down the other side, coating him, making it easier for herself as she put her mouth around him again and slid him between her lips.

He filled her almost immediately, and she glanced down to discover there was enough of him still exposed that she needed to add her hand. “Nesta,” he pleaded, and she made another pass at him, pulling him out nearly all the way before swallowing him again, letting her throat relax, desperate for as much of him in her mouth as could fit.

Cassian’s hand speared into her hair, gripping, and she realized he was holding himself back. Didn’t want to ram himself into her, hurt her, displease her.

And that wouldn’t do. Not at all.

She wanted him undone, wanted him grabbing her head and fucking her mouth as hard as he wished.

So when Nesta took him into her mouth again, hand working in unison, she dragged her teeth. Lightly enough to hurt—just a bit.

Cassian bucked, and she let him, swallowing him down greedily, squeezing him with her hand enough to tell him she wanted this, wanted him to let himself go. She withdrew her lips to the tip of him, rolling her tongue around him, and gazed at him from under her lashes.

His eyes were on her, wide and glazed with lust.

And when Cassian met her stare, beheld her looking up at him—

He unleashed himself.



He couldn’t take it. It was torture, a special kind of torture, to have Nesta kneeling before him with his cock in her mouth and hand and not be able to roar with pleasure. But then she stared at him through her lashes, and the sight of her with his cock between her lips snapped something.

He didn’t care that they were in the dining room, that a wall of windows and doors lined half the space and anyone flying by might see.

Cassian slid his other hand into her hair, fingers twining into her braided coronet, and he thrust up into her mouth.