Chapter 31 Prince Sloth
THIRTY-ONE
Prince Sloth
LORE’S FINGERS CURLED around the waistband of my fighting leathers, pulling me against her with a confident tug. As if I needed any further encouragement or prompting to give her everything she wanted.
I was barely maintaining my control now.
I couldn’t seem to leash the growing need to protect her, care for her, claim her in every way.
When I’d finally tracked her down and wrapped my arms around her, it felt like a missing piece of myself clicked into place, granting me a sudden sense of peace amid the chaos.
The feeling hadn’t subsided.
I hadn’t experienced something like it before and couldn’t quite pinpoint what the cause was. It was likely the result of several factors.
I ran my knuckles along her inner thigh, noting every breathy inhalation, ragged exhale, and flutter in her pulse the higher they roamed.
I wanted her dripping and half mad with desire.
After seeing the sea monster drag her into the depths, and the all-consuming terror that followed… I needed to erase that, replace the image of death and loss with its complete counterpart.
My attention flicked up as I finally brushed against her center.
Her eyes glazed with lust at the featherlight touch.
I’d never seen someone more beautiful.
“For the love of the gods.” She tossed her head back. “What are you waiting for? Self-combustion? Death? If so, I’m close. To both.”
I grinned, already pleased with the results. “I’m plotting.”
“Less plotting, more action.”
With the vampire venom only recently burned out of my system, the remnants of its influence still buzzed under my skin, stirring primal emotions that refused to fully subside.
I wanted to take my time. But that rational thought was giving way to the growing urge to fuck her until she shouted my name with her release.
She leaned in, her breath warm against my skin, and slowly ran her tongue along the seam of my lips. The touch was light, a mere whisper of sensation that invited and teased, a temptation that I couldn’t resist.
I responded without hesitation.
I drew her lower lip between my teeth, applying just enough pressure to claim it gently, feeling the pulse of her desire a beat before she moaned.
That sound made the already overwhelming need to act on my baser instincts grow tenfold; it was a rawness that simmered beneath the surface of my calm outer facade.
My desire to claim her surged just as fiercely as when I’d first been bitten and was teetering on the edge of madness, perhaps even more intense now that my mind was no longer clouded.
I knew exactly what I wanted.
I wanted to mark her so no one would ever be foolish enough to try to harm her, knowing they’d face the chilling wrath of House Sloth.
A mark from a Prince of Sin was no small thing. It was like a small, magical tattoo, a bond that could never be broken, even in death.
I’d never considered giving one to any previous lover. Ever.
With her legs locked around me, her lips swollen from our kisses, and her eyes heavy-lidded with desire, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember why worshipping her up against a tree was a bad idea.
Why I should at least scout for shelter or encourage her to transport us to a more comfortable location. But there was something carnal about losing ourselves in the woods, fucking like animals controlled by instinct.
I tried to focus beyond the immediate thought of dropping to my knees and tasting her. I craved her like she was my drug of choice, and I was already addicted.
Some small part of me wondered if there was magic at play before dismissing it. The Liber Noctem could choose far worse twists of fate.
I forced my senses outward, but the rustle of leaves and the cool evening air only heightened the charged atmosphere.
We were alone, and the glen was well hidden, but that didn’t mean we were safe.
Every plot I’d come up with to drive her wild slipped away as she reached between us, slowly trailing her fingers over my trousers, teasing my hard cock.
I thrust into her grip, swearing, then resumed stroking her thighs, my thumb edging closer to her wet heat again.
Another tug at my thoughts pulled me away.
She’d mentioned something about a hunt and the horsemen, but I had to trust that I’d sense them before they became a true problem. The trees were densely packed here; no one would get near without making some noise.
I banished any more distractions.
Now my focus was locked only on her.
I finally shifted my hand where she wanted it, dragging my fingers through her slick folds before moving them away, stroking the area beside her entrance.
I hid my grin as she rolled her hips with impatience, her body moving sinuously against mine.
“You’re being a rotten tease.” Her eyes narrowed before a wicked smile curved her lips. “This means war, Blondie. Prepare to lose.”
My beautiful, clever dreamweaver won.
She writhed along my hard length, igniting a fire that made rational thought a distant memory.
I shifted slightly, allowing her boots to drop softly to the forest floor, the leaves crunching beneath her.
Once she was steady, I leaned closer, pressing my palm firmly against the tree beside her, anchoring me in place.
Her victory was only temporary.
“How many times do you think I can make you come on my fingers before I use my tongue? Three, four dozen times?”
She blinked at me, seeming lost for words.
I reveled in the fact that I’d stunned her. Lore was usually unflappable.
“You’re going to be the actual death of me. Aren’t you?”
I nipped at her mouth playfully.
“Not anytime soon. Necrophilia doesn’t sound appealing. I want your eyes on mine when I’m between your legs.”
Over the top of her tunic, I rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Her breath rushed out as she sank her teeth into her lower lip.
“And when I fuck you from behind, I’ll have mirrors installed so you can still keep those pretty eyes on me.”
She huffed a surprised laugh. “You are seriously disturbed.”
“You have no idea.”
I slipped my free hand beneath the fabric of her torn tunic, the cool air brushing against her skin and pebbling her nipples.
My knuckles gently grazed over them and her eyes fluttered shut.
I bent down, teasing the hardened peak with a swirl of my tongue until her fingers plunged into my hair and she damn near growled.
I smiled against her flesh as I cupped her other breast, and repeated the motion until she squirmed beneath me.
“Good things come to those who wait, Peaches.”
She muttered something about understanding why mortal cultures called orgasms little deaths.
By the time we were through, she’d know this was about celebrating life.
My hand continued its deliberate journey downward, pausing to skim over the weapons belt she still wore and then to trace an intricate design just above her pelvic bone.
She didn’t realize it, but I was spelling out my true name—and I intended to confirm what she’d already guessed with her soon.
For now, though, I teased her entrance before finally slipping a finger inside her. I groaned as she clenched around it, envisioning how incredible that would feel when I slid my cock into her.
Her lips parted, and I captured the sound of her moan with a deep, lingering kiss.
I stroked her tongue with mine, feeling her grow slicker.
I gently gripped her chin and tilted her face up, deepening our kiss to let her know this would be a slow, drugging descent into pleasure.
That I would take my time and not be hurried.
This would be the only time I acted slothful the way mortals thought of it—I’d languidly stroke and tease.
She rocked against me, and I withdrew just enough to play with her clit before plunging it back into her.
A breathy moan escaped her, followed by a soft curse.
It took every ounce of willpower I could scrape together to not bury myself inside her now. But I wanted this to be about her pleasure, so I leashed myself.
I carefully added a second finger, pausing to let her adjust.
Once she rocked against me, I took over. I rhythmically pumped in and out, attuned to the subtle shifts of her body.
I slowed when she got close, then pumped faster again, drawing out to stroke her clit before driving my fingers back in and repeating the motions.
I varied the pace, watching her with singular focus as she climbed higher toward that peak.
“Oh, gods. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”
Her fingernails dug into my forearms, leaving small crescents in my skin as her teeth pressed into her lower lip, barely holding back a moan.
Her dark gaze was locked on my hand, where the heel of my palm pressed against her most sensitive spot. I couldn’t stop the sudden possession I felt.
She was mine.
Her mind, her body, her pleasure.
I pumped harder and faster, mimicking the way I’d take her against the tree soon. Lore’s gaze snapped up to mine, almost daring me to give her more.
To submit entirely to whatever this was.
Little did she know, I feared I already had.
Her hips met each of my thrusts and I grew impossibly more aroused.
I wanted her to come undone so many times that her pleasure blurred into an endless, incoherent wave with one hitting after the next.
I felt the slickness in my palm, warm and dripping, and I fought the urge to put my fingers in my mouth and lick it off.
I watched, completely rapt, as she took control. Her body moved with a confident rhythm as she started bouncing on my hand.
It was impossible not to imagine her riding me the same way, and I almost came at the erotic thought of her using me to chase her pleasure.
She was absolutely stunning.
Her cheeks flushed with a peachy hue, and her eyes sparkled with a sultry brightness as she drank me in, her attention roaming over the hard planes of my chest, my arms, the straining bulge in my leathers.
She wasn’t dreaming of one of her characters, she was wholly engaged with me, and that, more than anything, turned me on to the point of pain.