47 #4
He waited until I ceased clenching, then took me down onto the bed. There, he fucked me with several deep and hard thrusts, then stilled and spilled into my body on a drawn-out groan.
Before I recovered, he withdrew. He left me to lean back on his haunches.
For a moment, I lay there in disbelief—wondering if that serakan had killed me and this was the next life. A place where this ceaselessly forbidden prince I couldn’t surrender was actually mine.
A place where this fated bond could exist.
Voran spread my legs. His dark silver hair was stunningly mussed, and his lips reddened from reuniting with mine. Dying firelight rippled over his ink-covered torso—the abdominals that bunched as he leaned forward.
And plunged a finger inside me.
I bucked and moaned, my teeth denting my lower lip.
His eyes flew to my face. Stayed as he pulled his finger out, then pushed it back in.
The sound it made strengthened my hunger for more.
When he pulled it out again, he rubbed his fingers together.
“The way my seed seeps from you…” A throaty sound of approval came with the return of his thick finger to my body. “More is about to leave my cock.”
I squirmed.
He looked down at my breasts, then my flushed face.
Again, he muttered things I couldn’t understand. Things I didn’t care to understand when he lowered his mouth to my sex and lapped at my clit with his tongue. He left his finger inside me, but curled it.
I gasped. My back arched.
So he curled his finger again and again, stroking inside me while he kissed and licked me. Pleasure careened. Something instinctual took hold, and my hips lifted to chase the impending climax. I moaned, writhed, and reached for him.
He murmured, “Are you sore?”
He knew I was. I still said, “Yes.”
He kissed my clit, and I expected he’d bring me to a gentle climax.
But he left me panting and desperate to stand beside the bed. I nearly whimpered—nearly asked where he was going—when he dragged me to the side of the bed before taking my hips.
To pull me onto his cock.
My relief caused a noisy sigh. My eyes drifted closed as he stayed there, seated deep and running his hands over my thighs and stomach.
“I want you sore, broshklin.” A callus scraped the gooseflesh at my lower stomach, and he crooned, “So fucking sore.”
I opened my eyes to find his chest heaving and his gaze roaming my body. His hands followed as he finally moved—as he ruined me with slow yet deliriously deep strokes. When his finger brushed my clit, I bucked into the bedding.
He touched it again as he said, “Would you have married him?”
Thrown, I said, “What?”
He pulled out of me. Then nipped my thigh so hard, I yelped. “Would you have fucking married him?”
Oh.
Meront.
I couldn’t say it didn’t matter, given I was about to marry his uncle. He knew I’d kissed Meront—had feelings for him. I also couldn’t lie. We both knew the truth.
So I licked my lips and admitted, “I would have done what was required of me.”
A soft snarl. “Like a good little princess.”
“Voran, I had no say in—” I moaned as he pushed back into me.
Seated deep once more, he rocked his hips. “Would you have wanted to marry him?”
I didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Again, he withdrew. “Why?”
I almost mewled in complaint. “You know why.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of you,” I confessed, my frustration ebbing when I saw his throat bob with a harsh swallow.
Eyes ablaze, he whispered roughly, “You make me fucking feral.”
I smiled. “I do?”
“You know you do.” Another nip at my inner thigh. Gentler this time.
Then he licked my clit, just once before returning his cock to my body. Relief fluttered my lashes. He cursed viciously, then slid his arm beneath my back. He pulled me up until he was almost holding me while he fucked me.
He kissed me, then lowered me back to the bed. “Need to see you,” he rasped. “But I also need to touch all of you. Need to feel your skin and your tits against my chest and in my hands.” His features twisted as if he were tortured. “I need to kiss you until I cannot feel my fucking lips.”
I understood. Time wasn’t a luxury we had.
So before dawn could interrupt us, I wholly surrendered to what we did have.
I let Voran move me wherever he wished. I touched and kissed and watched him as much as I wished. We seldom spoke. If he did, it was in the old language, and I was too terrified of his uncle overhearing to make him explain.
As dawn neared and exhaustion beckoned, he curled behind me on the bed.
Although I was indeed extremely sore, I pushed back into his erection until he lifted my leg and pushed it into my body. Lazily and kissing my shoulder, he delivered me to a near-painful edge, then sent me into the toe-curling and breath-robbing abyss.
I wanted to memorize every sound and muttering he made. I wanted to savor the sweltering heat of him and the tickling graze of his calloused hands on my skin. I wanted him to tell me that we could truly have this—without his uncle and the need to make an heir—and that everything would be all right.
I needed him to lie to me.
Instead, he fed my need for him until I fell asleep.