Chapter 14 #2
Standing by the bed, Brey watched me with his finger in his mouth. The same finger he’d touched me with.
Heat ensnared me at the sight. I was about to tell him to hurry up when I realized what he was doing. He was admiring me, certainly, but also studying me. Painting a portrait of me in his mind to replicate later.
So I simply said, “While you’re doing that, you might as well undress for me.”
His finger slid from his mouth. He plucked his white shirt from his britches, gripped it in both hands, then pulled. Eyes wide, I watched as the linen-like material tore easily, cleanly, over his beautiful torso.
“It would have hindered the view,” he explained, throwing it on the floor.
Fire filled my chest. A different inferno to the one he’d lit between my legs. I swallowed, my words thick. “We cannot have that.”
“No.” Brey pushed his pants down his muscular thighs. “We cannot.”
He used his feet to pull free of the black britches while wrapping his hand around his erect cock. Noticing what he’d done and perhaps thinking it wasn’t right, he released the magnificent member.
Fighting a laugh, I said, “Touch it again.”
Brey frowned.
I opened my legs wide. “Please.”
He gripped his cock and watched my teeth slide over my lower lip. “Better?”
“Almost,” I teased. “Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
A hint of surprise, or maybe nervousness, brightened his eyes.
But as his hand ran up and down his long shaft, his gaze turned drowsy. Lustful. He stroked himself several times before stilling. A ragged inhale shook his shoulders, and he dropped his cock as if it had bitten him.
“I…” He swept a hand through his hair, the strands falling over his chest like black silk. “Excuse me,” he croaked.
Then he promptly turned around.
A little alarmed, I blinked at his broad and heaving back before pushing up on my elbows. “Everything all right?”
No response.
His shoulders heaved now, and his head tilted toward the ceiling.
Then I heard it—a faint muttering accompanying his labored breaths.
“Are you…” I stopped to rid the amusement from my voice. “Are you reciting the ode to the goddess?”
“No,” he quickly spat.
But he was.
He fucking was, and it delighted me far more than it should have.
If this were any other man, I’d have left him there, muttering that ancient tune to the ceiling as I made a hasty escape. I’d have told my friends all about the strange man I’d nearly bedded, and we’d have laughed about it for moons.
Except this king was unlike any other man I’d met, and the mere thought of sharing even a facet of him with anyone brought forth a bloodlust that had nothing to do with hunger.
I didn’t understand it. I also didn’t try to.
I let the foreign feelings take me to the edge of the bed. Climbing to my feet behind him, I was tempted to kiss his smooth back.
So I did.
Brey turned to stone. “Ethel, I—”
I hushed him and slipped my hand between his arm and side. Luxuriating in the feel of his skin, I danced my fingertips over the packed muscle at his abdomen.
Breath shuddered from him. “I’m trying with everything I have not to—” He groaned when I encountered his incredibly hard cock.
“Come,” I finished for him. My other hand reached around to trace the harsh ridge of his hip. I kissed his shoulder blade. “I want you to come.”
His breathing increased. But he remained silent—at war with himself.
So I rounded him, dragged my fingers over his abdominals, and rose onto my toes. I kissed him, tenderly and only once, then I took his cock in my hand.
Jaw clenching tight, he hissed.
Our eyes met, and his immediately closed.
That twinge returned with a vengeance. It propelled me to kiss him again, then whisper against his mouth, “I’m far from done with you yet.” Gently, I squeezed him. “So let go.”
His nostrils flared. His jaw rocked, and when I slid my hand down his shaft, his entire body seized.
Then shook as seed spurted onto my stomach.
An agonized groan escaped his gritted teeth. I hid my shock by kissing the corner of his mouth. As he swayed, I held his hip and milked him until I was certain he’d given my stomach every last drop.
Slowly, his breathing evened. His eyes opened. Only then did I gaze down at the ribbons of seed painted across my skin. “Another work of art, Majesty.”
His chuckle came rasped.
Stepping aside, he snatched his torn shirt from the floor. But rather than wipe my stomach clean, he lowered to his knees before it. There, he traced my skin between the mess we’d made, no doubt absorbing the imagery for later.
Then he cleaned his seed from my stomach and the few droplets that had reached my thighs.
Rising, he tossed the ruined fabric and clasped my face. His thumb brushed the crest of my cheek. That drowsy gaze danced all over my features before he lowered his forehead to mine.
And the look in his eyes…
I swallowed, but it did nothing to douse the heat in my chest. So I nipped his lower lip, then returned to the bed and waited for him to join me.
When he did, he crawled over me. His hair tickled my cheeks. He kissed me once and gazed down at me. “Your eyes get this glossy sheen.” Nose nudging mine, he whispered to my mouth, “When you get scared.”
Then I was sure they were glossy again.
But he said nothing more.
He just smirked, kissed the tip of my nose, and crawled back down my body. As he reached them, my thighs opened. He gave a whisper-soft kiss to the inside of each. But the tension within me didn’t ease until I felt his breath against my sex.
A moment later, he lowered onto his stomach and opened me. Stared at me.
Then he stroked me and murmured, “Exquisite,” before replacing his finger with his tongue. Leisurely, he licked me—held me open as he tortured me.
My soft sighs gained sound. My fingers curled into the sheets.
His lack of experience was evident, yet it only made him all the more skilled. Unbearably so, as he took his time doing whatever he wished to me.
His hunger, coupled with his desire to please me, caused me to burn in ways I hadn’t before. In ways I feared wouldn’t extinguish. In ways that made me glad I would wed him so that I could have more of this.
The thought splashed the flames ready to roar through me, turning my quiet moans into stifled breaths.
Brey stopped. Gripping my thighs, he looked up at me over the plush mound of my stomach. “Good?”
“Yes,” I said.
His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t quite believe me. Still staring at me, he lowered his mouth to lick my swollen clit.
I shook.
He squeezed my trembling thighs and did so again. And again. On the fourth swipe, just as I was about to come, he released me and looked at my sex.
I groaned and rolled my face into the sheets. They were riddled with his scent. That, and the finger he tentatively inserted into my body, had me shaking once more. Keeping his finger there, he pressed his tongue flat against my clit.
Then slowly licked it.
I fell apart with a fractured moan.
Gently, he adored me through the orgasm. Kissing and licking until I writhed and panted and nearly laughed.
“You clenched my finger so tight.” Brows furrowed, he carefully pulled it halfway out of my body. “I wonder how I’ll fit.”
“Splendidly, I’m sure.”
Brey withdrew his finger completely and sucked it. Releasing it with a pop, he asked, “Are you sure, though?”
I crawled over the sheets to lay my head on one of his strewn pillows. “We won’t know until we try.”
His hooded eyes lingered on my breasts, then flicked to my face and narrowed. Thickly, he drawled, “You toy with me.”
I just smiled.
His smirk was the only warning I had before he leaped over the bed—atop me again.
Stunned, I laughed and tapped his nose. “Cat indeed.”
He caught and bit my finger, earning him another laugh. One that sounded more like a giggle, which made heat instantly flood my cheeks.
I rolled my face into the pillow.
Brey turned it back to his.
As the curtains billowed through the open balcony doors, and the breeze rushed in to caress our skin, he stared down at me with his mouth parted and his pupils thinning. “Now that I know it’s possible, I fear my destiny is not to rule this isle, but to make you blush.”
“You didn’t see anything.”
He leaned close, pupils flaring as he crooned, “Such a stunning little liar.”
“There’s nothing little about me, Majesty.”
He squeezed my breast. “You’re certainly right about that.”
Attempting not to laugh, I snorted not once but twice. Then I coughed.
His laughter volleyed through the bedchamber like a musical spell, deep and hypnotic and entrapping. It gifted me that rare smile of his. The perfect flaw lured my fingers to the crooked side of his mouth before he fixed it.
“Don’t,” I said without thinking. “I like seeing it.”
But his smile wilted when I touched his chest—traced his pectoral as I opened my legs. He settled between them instantly. His erection pressed against me, and I skimmed my fingers down his side. He shivered, throat bobbing as he averted his gaze to the pillow.
He was nervous. Perhaps unsure how to proceed.
So I said, “Shall we see if you fit, Majesty?”
A gleam within, his eyes returned to mine. “Please.”
When I slid my hand between our bodies, he lifted his hips. I wrapped my fingers around his length, then directed him to my sex. His gaze never strayed from mine. No exhales seemed to leave his parted lips or nose.
Not until the swollen head of his cock encountered my slick opening and he hissed.
Instinct took hold. His hips jolted, causing him to plunge into my body. His throaty groan was drawn, animalistic.
Though he was rather well-endowed, I’d been well prepared. I moaned and rolled into him, wanting more. Lifting my feet to his smooth ass, I pushed, and he sank into me completely.
Brey gasped.
Again, I moaned and rolled my hips, feeling so wonderfully full. “I was wrong,” I whispered. “You actually fit perfectly.”