Chapter 30
The force of it steals my breath as our mouths crash together, leaving my dagger to fall from my fingers and land near my feet as it clangs against stone.
He steps forward, guiding us further in as he kicks the door shut, my back landing against the bedpost. His mouth consumes mine when my lips part on an eager groan, deepening it like he did in that cave.
The fabric of his tunic bunches in my hands, pulling him to me as I inhale him like he’s the last breath I’ll take.
A ferocious aching consumes me as my hands reach the back of his head. He releases a soft, hungry groan, and I’m suddenly reliving what my dream was just moments ago.
“Do you want me?” he growls, traveling a scorching path of his mouth to my jaw, then grazes his teeth down my throat. “Tell me you fucking want me, Isa.”
I gasp—fuck, yes, I do.
His hand suddenly squeezes my neck in silent demand for my answer as he works his way to my collarbone. Yet I can’t seem to find the words as I gasp for air. Is this really happening?
Granted, I’ve thought about what he’d feel like between my legs since our first interaction at the brothel, but I never truly expected… this. Actually, I never expected it to happen given my future role in Aurelia.
“Answer me.” He pushes the thought out, but it’s forceful and icy, pulling me back to reality with a sharp inhale through my lips.
I force myself to focus on forming words rather than how his hands are currently lifting my night slip over my bare hips.
An unbearable ache grows right between my thighs.
“Yes,” I say finally, eager to feel him as my hands graze the edge of his pants again, grazing the hard length of the king…
Realization runs through me, and I quickly push him off with a gasp, putting distance between us and grappling the bedpost behind me. He growls, shooting me a hungry glare, his tongue flicking over his swollen lips.
“What are you doing?” I get out, but my voice trembles, the words rushing from me.
I know damn well this isn’t a dream. This is real, and the intensity of the moment has me flustered and aching all over. But he’s the king of Aurelia. I can’t—
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks quietly, studying me.
Do I want him to leave? The question of the century. Now would be the time to tell him to, as it would be the logical thing to do because he’s the king of Aurelia.
And I’m just… an assassin. My stomach drops, dread curling in my gut because I know that’s a lie—I’m a princess. A princess of Aurelia, future queen.
Yet my chest heaves with quick breaths, and against my better judgement, I find myself wanting him to stay.
Wanting to feel his skin flush against mine like I wanted the first night we met.
My heart skips. I know that if I say yes, I would be opening a door with him that I wouldn’t be able to close.
Still, I hesitate as my thoughts whirl, suddenly realizing that perhaps I want it to open. And for the first time in my life, I’m eager for something more.
His eyes dart to my lips, and he inches forward, a low, throaty chuckle escaping him, as if he can sense my decision. It’s almost sinister, and filled with dark promise.
“I want you to stay,” I say finally.
Agonizing seconds pass, my heart pounding in my chest, when I’m suddenly squeezing my legs together.
A growing heat reaches the apex of my thighs.
My chest rises and falls in uneven breaths as he stalks forward until there’s no space left between us.
Then his hand slides to the back of my neck, forcing me to tilt my head back.
“Good. Because I’ve been wanting to taste you since that damn brothel,” he murmurs, leaning in. “Are you going to let me taste you, Princess?”
Awareness prickles my skin as he peers down at me, a look full of an unyielding hunger. Just the scent of him sends a flood of arousal down my body, leaving my lips to part as a quiet breath of air slips out.
Rydian growls at the sound before our mouths suddenly clash together again, quickly becoming entangled.
Within seconds, he lifts me by the backs of my thighs, my legs wrapping around his waist. He tosses me on the bed, forcing the air out of my lungs as our mouths collide again. I arch into him, and his tongue slips into my mouth.
I whimper, gripping the edge of his tunic, frantically lifting to reveal the hard muscle beneath.
But before I can sit up on my elbows to glance at him, he yanks me to the edge of the bed by my knees with a hungry growl.
Then without warning, his head is suddenly between my thighs, grazing his nose toward the very center of me.
“Fuck,” I gasp when he grazes my thigh with his teeth, my hand flying to his hair.
“Just what I wanted.” He pushes the thought out, groaning against my skin. “To spread these legs with my own two hands, feeling you soaked for me. Is this what you wanted—me on my knees with my head between your legs?”
He quickly reminds me of what I said at the brothel when we first met, and good gods, I love every second of it.
“I thought that…” I pant, grasping at his auburn hair, “kings didn’t kneel for anyone.”
He chuckles, the throaty sound vibrating against my core when his hands travel up my soft thighs.
He spreads me wider, his grip tightening as my night slip inches over my hips to reveal myself completely bare and soaking wet.
He groans, his mouth suddenly so close to the spot I need him as the warmth of his breath caresses my skin.
“Are you surprised that I’m kneeling for you?” he asks just as his tongue swirls over my clit, leaving me to cry out and drop my head. I lose all sense of reality as my world tilts.
Then his whole mouth is on me—devouring and sending stars of pleasure across my vision. My hips drive up, grinding against his mouth as sharp moans slip out, unable to restrain myself. His hands grip my thighs, pinning me, leaving me to growl in frustration as I chase my release.
“Look at me,” he grumbles, my eyes flicking down.
His gaze finds mine in the dim light, watching from between my legs as his tongue swirls over me.
A simmering heat scorches my blood when my hips grind into him again, my mouth parting on a gasp.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says. “But I want to hear you cry for me.”
My heart races, tight pressure coiling low—too fast. I’m suddenly teetering on the edge of my release when he pushes in two fingers, driving them into me right before he curls—oh, fuck.
Legs trembling, I suddenly cry out, the sound sharp and wild as my release explodes from me. He straightens, leaving me no time to recover when his fingers slide out. Towering above, he watches me pant for breath before sticking them in his mouth, tasting me.
Heat sears across my damp skin, slick with sweat as I watch him lick me off his fingers. With eager eyes, I finally get a good look at him. Breathtaking.
His skin ripples in the moonlight, revealing the hard lines and taut muscle beneath, as if he were carved by the Stone Shapers themselves. Swirls of dark ink travels down the left side of his neck and onto his chest, and I quickly notice that his injuries have fully healed from earlier this week.
My eyes rake over every inch of his body. The lingering high of my climax heats my skin, escalating to a frightening level. A flash of hunger forms in his eyes, and then they narrow slightly, darkening his features as a menacing grin plays on his lips.
“I bet you feel just as good as you taste,” he says.
His fingers work the ties of his pants before they suddenly flutter to the floor, leaving my lips parting when my eyes land on the hard length of his cock.
Long and thick, a vein runs down the length of him. Oh gods. I’ve been with a few males, but I haven’t been with any that looked like… that.
My breath hitches in anticipation when he steps forward, settling himself between my legs, leaving my core clenching.
His hands grip the collar of my night slip, my heart stopping the moment he rips it right down the middle, freeing my breasts from the thin material.
He reaches forward, taking my breast in his hand before pinching a nipple, leaving me to cry out in surprise.
“Do me a favor, little fawn.” He lifts my hips, pushing the head of his cock against me when he rolls his hips—teasing. “Try not to scream. I’d hate to wake the castle.” And he drives his hips forward.
“Oh gods…” My mouth falls open as a pleasurable, shocking cry passes my lips, forcing my head back from the pressure of him stretching me. What the fuck?
“You’re fucking perfect,” he pants, his chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm, as if battling for control.
His hands glide up my body before grabbing the crook of my shoulder, just above my collarbone, and he thrusts once more—slow yet sure.
Savoring. His eyes squeeze shut, his lips parting on a moan like he’s soaking in every bit of me gripping him.
The pleasure shooting through me is so intense, it’s intoxicating.
Yet he sets the pace, slow and controlled, pulling out only to deliberately drive himself into me as I adjust. But slow and controlled isn’t what my body is begging for right now—I need more.
“Are you going to fuck me or make love?” I ask, a mocking grin lining my mouth.
He shoots a hand out, gripping my neck. I let out a shocked gasp before he scoops an arm beneath me, pushing us further onto the bed.
As soon as I hit the pillows, he flips me over, pulling me up by a fistful of my hair. My back rests against his chest—on my knees, legs spread for him to enter from behind as I hover right above his cock.
“I thought you were going to behave for me tonight,” he mutters in my ear, pushing my hair aside. “You’re an impatient little thing, aren’t you?”
“When did I ever give you the impression that I was going to behave?” I bite out.
“You didn’t,” he mutters, then forcefully pushes me down. “I guess that just means I can fuck it out of you.”
My face hits the pillows on a gasp as his hand rests on the middle of my back, holding me in place as if he’s inspecting me. Then a moment later, his head is between my legs again, tongue swirling.
“Fuck.” I grip the sheets when he slides in two fingers. I pant for breath and the trembling in my legs begins—pleasure consuming me.
He grips my hip with a hand only to snake the other around, rubbing my clit and driving his hips forward at the same time. My whimpers reverberate off the walls as he thrusts into me again and again, giving me exactly what I want.
He suddenly releases my hip to grip my hair, pulling me back into his chest. “You’re doing so well for me, but tell me…
why aren’t you begging?” His teeth graze the inside of my neck before he bites.
I moan as he guides my hips back. “Do I need to make you cry for me? I bet you’d look so pretty if you did. ”
“I’ll do…” I pant in between breaths. “Anything you want. Please, please just…”
A pleasurable hum leaves him as he thrusts into me—faster, less controlled. Frantic, even. His fingers swirl around my clit, his needy touch causing the pressure between my legs to form again.
My breath catches, suddenly feeling as if I can’t breathe.
And I whimper, over and over as every thrust becomes too much. My muscles tighten from the pressure, deep and low, as I begin to crest the wave of my climax.
My back is slick with sweat, sticking to him as my gasps brush the air mingling with whimpered cries.
“Rydian. I can’t…” My eyes slam shut, words escaping me as I cry out, the pressure building between my legs.
His breath quickens, and then he releases my hair, steadying me by my hips as he drives into me from behind. He pushes deeper, filling me in such a way that I can feel every thick inch of him inside me.
I’m almost there. Please, gods, don’t stop.
“You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you?
Say my name when you do or you’re not going to enjoy what happens if you don’t.
” He pants. “Come on me like you want to claim me—show me how wild you are.” He breathes against my temple, my head resting against the crook of his shoulder. His cock firms.
“Rydian—fuck, I claim you. Gods, I fucking claim you. Just… don’t stop,” I get out, though his words and the pressure—it’s too much. Way too much. Oh gods, I’m coming.
Pleasure bursts from me as I cry out his name, as if a golden thread has tethered me to this very moment, stars shooting across my vision.
My body trembles as I pulse around his cock, but then he pushes me forward and grips my hips, frantically driving into me as he loses more of that control he claims to have.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, his moan laced with quiet shock as he loses himself completely. He grips me tighter, driving his hips—once, twice—and then spills himself in me with an exasperated groan, his pace slowing.
My own breathing eases, leaving me to blink in the darkness as I grapple for my composure. Yet for some reason, I feel lighter. What was that?
He rests on his side, turning me so that I’m pulled into his chest, gently kissing me below my ear as he pushes my hair to the side.
But his fingers linger for a breath, as if studying the strands, when the movement of his chest stalls behind me. Too tired to decipher what he’s doing, a contented sigh leaves me as I settle on my side.
“Go to bed, little fawn. You need your rest,” he mumbles, though it doesn’t take long for the featherlight touches down the side of my neck to lull me to sleep.
A quiet sigh escapes him. “The fates sure do have their jokes, don’t they?
” His quiet, mumbled words suddenly brush the shell of my ear, spoken as if they were meant for himself before I finally doze off.