...When Canen had disappeared from sight, Brooke leaned forward and toyed with a small glass votive with a tiny metal grate on top.

“Don’t shake me!” the candle snapped.

Her hand shot back, her mouth open in question before curiosity got the best of her and she peered inside the candle holder.

A tiny, winged figure with waist-length hair and literally glowing skin glared up at her.

“I’m working,” the faerie snapped. “Would you mind putting me back where you found me?”

Brooke gave the votive a nudge toward the center of the table and folded her hands. A shadow darkened the already lightless room as the waitress came between her and the stone fireplace where the missing dwarf from some childhood story continued to pour water on the night’s supper.

“Would ye fancy the usual for a newlywed, dearie?”

“The what?”

“On the ’ouse, courtesy of me dead husband, may his soul rest in another woman’s bed.” She winked and gave a laugh that made her breasts jiggle.

“On the house sounds fine,” she answered, wondering where the hell Canen had disappeared to without a word. She tapped her fingers on the table, which managed to have the faerie in a tizzy once more. Before she could pull off the little bitch’s wings, the waitress came over and slapped a tall, thin glass on the table.

“To ’ealth, to good romps, and many ’usbands. Or is it children? I think I prefer many ’usbands, me self, dearie. Drink it slowly. Your man ain’t back just yet.” She winked again and sauntered off, giving Brooke a view of her ample rear. The woman was all curves and apparently was aware that a sway of her hips back and forth was enough to make everyone turn and watch her.

Taking a tentative sip, Brooke was pleasantly surprised to find the drink tasted like Cherry Coke, her absolute favorite beverage, but without the fizz. She took several long sips, which were almost enough to sate her thirst.

At last she settled in and began looking around the cozy pub. Most of the patrons were men, but she found a woman and a man in the darkest corner. Without intending to watch them, she couldn’t help but stare from the corner of her eye. White wings kept unfurling from the man’s back, but that wasn’t nearly as interesting as the woman down on her knees.

There was no way the woman was giving a man a blow job in the pub. No way. Pretending to look around, Brooke allowed herself three seconds to blatantly stare at them. Three seconds turned to five seconds, then ten, and she squeezed her thighs together to stop the tingle between her legs. Without realizing how randy it made her, she could feel herself dripping wet each time she shifted to relieve some of the pressure.

She’d never watched porn nor found it intriguing, much less a live sex act. Both had always seemed a little too intimate for her taste until now.

The woman was definitely going down on the winged man with enthusiasm, and for each stroke of her lips and tongue, the man’s wings twitched. Waves of long, blond hair spilled over his shoulders, and his chest heaved beneath a cream-colored gauze shirt laced up to his collarbone. Sans the wings, he looked like he should have been on a billboard for an underwear ad. His chest, flat stomach, and long, muscular legs definitely should have been shared with the rest of the world.

Brooke felt her vagina pulsing in time with the man’s pleasure as need filled her. She fidgeted and crossed her ankles, but she new damn well that nothing would work other than pulling up her dress and taking care of the problem or getting in on the action.

“Fuck,” she murmured, and took another sip from her tall clay mug. Fuck, I want sex and, fuck, I’ve never wanted to be part of a threesome until now.

Her nipples grew harder and her pussy dripped as she continued to stare. The man clawed at the walls, braced himself as he thrust his hips forward. His eyes rolled open, found her immediately, and locked on hers with no indication of shock.

Brooke found herself unable to look away from him. She held her mug in one hand and left her free hand under the table, resting on her knee. She wondered if he could sense how much she wanted to inch her dress up and find release. She wondered if he knew how horny she’d become watching this nameless, faceless woman pleasure him.