28. Konstantin
28
KONSTANTIN
I sla hasn’t spoken for at least five minutes.
Her unusual silence makes me regret my confession. In truth, I’m not entirely sure why I told her. I could’ve held on to my secret. I’m good at holding on to secrets.
When I can’t take it any longer, I ask, “Are you horrified?”
“Perplexed.”
I stop outlining the shape of her inked feather.
“It’s the first time anyone has expressed a desire to keep me. Well, outside of my family members, but it’s not so much a choice on their part as an obligation, since, you know, blood ties and all.” The smile that quirks her lips feels like a chisel to the doubt encroaching my chest. She relocates her fingers from my shoulders to my nape. “I would like to go home at some point before winter rolls over Glace.”
“Worried you’ll miss out on one of the monthly sacrifices?”
She laughs. I never thought I’d be one of those poor sods who’d wax poetic about a woman’s laughter, but Gods, the waves of her delight are nothing short of transcendent.
“I must absolutely know what went through Aodhan’s mind when he concocted such a tale.” She uses her knuckle to spring a tear from her eye.
I smile but then grow serious. “You can go home any time. I hope you know that.”
I slide a lock of her silken black hair behind the rounded shell of her ear, my gaze lingering on the ruby spiked hoop she uses to bloodcast.
“Just…come back.” What is it about the girl on my lap that makes me act like some lovesick teenager? Could she have cast a spell on me?
I decide against asking, because if she didn’t, my desperation might drive her away, and not just for a short trip home, but for longer.
“You could come with me?” she offers.
“I don’t think that’d be very wise.”
“Are you that terrified of my parents?”
“No.” I weave my fingers through her hair. “I just have a kingdom on the brink of a civil war and a resentful niece on the loose. I’d prefer to avoid someone staking a claim to my empire.”
“Right…” She purses her lips, shadows blunting the violet sparkle of her irises.
When she’d asked me what my favorite color was earlier, I’d almost blurted, “ Your eyes. Your eyes are my favorite color. ”
Thankfully, my tongue had reined back the preposterous revelation.
“Let’s not discuss revolutions tonight. Let’s not talk at all,” I murmur, eyeing her lips, which she keeps wetting with the tip of her tongue.
I lean forward and take possession of her mouth again. I’m aware it’s been a while for me, and that perhaps I’m misremembering the past, but I can’t recall ever experiencing a yearning as violent as the one I feel for this shifter princess. It’s debilitating, like some fever that sweeps through the body and capsizes one’s cognizance.
Every inch of me she touches palpitates and grows hot, making me want to strip off my shirt so she can melt away more of the frost that dwells beneath my skin.
With every press of her tongue and flex of her fingers, she consumes my restraint.
She consumes me .
I still don’t understand how she could have ever believed, for even a second, that there were no sparks between us. My blood damn near liquifies the lining of my veins each time I so much as think of her.
As she slants her head to deepen the reach of our tongues, I grip the outside of her thighs. My cock is so engorged I worry I will pop my zipper. May her father have mercy on my wanton soul and never learn the depths of all the wicked things I wish to do to his daughter.
She pulls away to catch her breath. I allow her three deep inhales before I clasp her waist with my hands, her gaze with my eyes, and her lips with my mouth.
I’m not ready for this kiss to end.
Not ready to walk to her door and wish her a goodnight.
It dawns on me that I probably won’t be ready for any of that later, even though it will have to happen, or it won’t only be her mouth I fuck with my tongue. The thought of exploring her, of kissing her Glace-shaped birthmark and tasting her bare pussy, has the demon in my pants weeping like some sunshine-blasted icicle.
Back to my room I must go.
I slide my hands under her ass, then stand without breaking the kiss. When I start walking, her arms tighten around my neck and her feet lock around my waist. It takes everything—and I do mean, everything —inside me not to head to her bed.
Once I stop walking, she pulls away and blinks around her as though unsure how we got from the armchair to the door. I take the opportunity to kiss her pretty throat, feeling it stir over words.
“Are you absconding with me?”
I smile against the palpitating column of flesh. “No. I’m throwing myself out.”
“I would’ve preferred to be absconded with.”
“Don’t tempt me, Yegmenka ,” I rasp, in between two sips of her skin. “I’d be capable of it.” I loosen my grip and slide her off me, my cock giving a violent jerk when her center brushes against it. I reach between my legs to readjust myself before I walk out of her room and give my guards fodder for gossip.
Her mouth, which is raw and swollen from our kiss, curves against my shoulder. “It’s still very noticeable. Let me help.” She reaches down and rolls her palm over me.
“That”—my throat clenches—“isn’t helping.”
She knuckles the ridged beast, somehow managing to swell him even more. I choke out her name.
“Coming would release the pressure, Vizosh.”
I drop my chin and drink in the slow pace of her fingers that glitter with my diamond. Did I really tell her earlier that I’d hand her over to her mate?
“Does this feel good?” she murmurs against the scoop of my shoulder. “Or would you prefer I stop?”
Incapable of forming words, I glower at her, which lures a smirk onto her lush mouth.
“Do you know how often I’ve fantasized about you?” She tips her head up to behold me.
I am panting now, so fucking close to release that the edges of the room have started to scintillate.
“Do I have permission to undo your zipper, Vizosh? I wouldn’t want it to chafe.”
“Great…fucking…lords. What are you—doing to me?”
“It’s called manual stimulation.”
My nostrils flare around a grunt.
“Was that a yes on the zipper?”
When her other hand rises to my ear and begins to journey toward its peaked tip, I choke out a harsh, “Yes.”
She pops open the hook and bar closure, then grips the metal pull. My throbbing flesh pours out, tenting my linen braies whose weave is so light, it leaves little to the imagination.
“I did get the long part correct,” she croons.
When she closes her fingers around my shaft and slips the point of my ear between her middle and index fingers, I fucking see stars.
“But not the thin part,” she purrs.
I huff out another snort that comes out borderline feral. For a heartbeat, I wonder how we got here—standing beside her door, my dick in her hand. My aim had been to not overwhelm her. Instead, here she is overwhelming me.
“Isla…?” I begin. “You don’t have to—to…”
“You are such a beautiful man, Konstantin.” Her promise warms my clenching throat, causing my body to shudder with pleasure. “ Everywhere .” She presses a kiss to my pulse point, all the while thrusting my erection and fondling my ear.
She’s the beautiful one. No, she’s so much more than beautiful. She’s fucking stunning. The most magnificent creature to have ever graced this godsforsaken Earth.
I grip her neck and bend over because my mouth is jealous of my throat. I will never give her back. Not in six months. Not in six years. Not in six fucking centuries. Her mate will have to pry her out of my cold, dead fingers.
A litany of curse words hammers my temples as the pressure of her hand sends a bolt of fire into my balls. They draw tight, and then my climax is gushing out, drenching the linen that grows translucent. I think I’m done releasing my seed, but as Isla keeps slow-pumping me, more leaks out.
And more.
The sight of her fingers glistening with my cum and ring has me hardening anew. Evidently, she notices because a corner of her gorgeous mouth wings up.
“I was trying to act like a gentleman and take it slow,” I grouse, tilting her jaw up with my thumb. “But you leave me no choice.”
Her pupils dilate.
“I want you naked with your legs spread for me, xhina .”
Her pulse jumps. Her throat tightens. Her eyes flash. “I’m not your wife,” she gusts out.
Remembering that she has wings and a home she longs to return to, I decide not to frighten her with my resolve to keep her always. Instead, I recapture her parted lips and pilot her toward the bed.
When the backs of her knees meet the mattress, I ease her down, folding over her to keep our mouths fused. My hand ventures down the side of her body, shaping her spectacular curves before swirling over her thigh. Her breathing turns labored when I drive the heel of my palm against her core, pressing and relaxing in firm waves that has her squirming beneath me.
I break our kiss, but only so I can watch her. Her cheeks are rosy and smudged with kohl I must’ve unsettled with my nose. Her eyes are glass-bright. I keep kneading her through her leathers, delighting in the little sounds she makes and how briskly her chest is pumping.
I press a kiss to the underside of her jaw. “Shall we take these off?” My hand is already cresting her mound toward the elasticized waistband.
“Wait. Konstantin. Wait.” She claps my wrist, and I freeze, afraid I’ve pushed her too far, until she blusters out, “There was someone—watching us.”
I twist my head toward the door, but she grips my chin and levers my head. “From up there.”
Though no face peers down at us, there are handprints in the snow.
I see red as I lurch to my feet, hooking my trousers back into place. “What did they look like?”
“They wore a hood. I couldn’t…” Her voice fades along with her body.
When I spot her shadows streaking toward the glass, I shout, “Isla, no! Wait! Don’t go out there!”
But does my fiancée listen? Of course not.
I storm out of her chamber, yelling at Borat to fly and warn the wardens supposed to guard my fucking grounds to find the lurker. “And Imogen! Find Imogen!”
I tear up my stairs like a bear awakened from hibernation in the dead of winter. I will murder the spy, and then I will wrap my chain around Isla’s neck so she cannot just up and fucking leave me behind.
Just as I reach the esplanade, a body capsizes at my feet with a high-pitched cry.