Chapter 15
fifteen
George takes another bath.
Isahn gave himself a quick rinse while she observed—entranced and slightly jealous of the water licking over his skin—then he hopped out of the basin so she could have a turn.
“You’re so beautiful, George.” He groaned appreciatively, helping her climb into the tub, his hand caressing the curve of her bottom and sending a shiver up her spine.
Watching him use pulses of hot water to clean his skin had been oddly arousing, and the slickness between her legs was nearly unbearable by the time she stood bare in the wash basin.
He was going to see it.
“Everywhere?” he asked, seeking permission before beginning.
She blinked, fighting the urge to look down, to see if the tops of her thighs were already glossy, how they felt. “Everywhere except my hair.”
He hummed. “I find it curious that you only have hair on top of your pretty head. You never told me, what do you call this style?”
Isahn sent a rivulet of steaming liquid trailing toward her. Like a hot fingertip, it caressed her skin, drawing lazy circles over her pubic bone.
“Shaved?” She giggled, unsure of what to say. Her body claimed her full focus. Shivers rippled out from his point of contact, and tension built at her core. He had not done this during their last bath.
“I like it bare. I can see your perfect little slit.”
When he dragged the tip of his magic tendril, featherlight, over her seam, George involuntarily tilted her hips, showing him more of herself, losing herself to the moment.
Isahn tugged his magic away, letting it hover inches from her body. Steam rose from his water to mingle with her heat.
“Touch me again,” George commanded, voice low and thick, surprising herself with her tone.
Isahn smirked, one side of his mouth dragging up, calling out his dimple. He shook his head.
Her mouth dropped open. The gall! She’d show him what she wanted. With a push of touch magic, George trailed an invisible fingertip up the length of Isahn’s member before swirling a circle beneath the sensitive underside of its head.
He moaned, and their eyes locked. Under the low light of the oil lamps, his irises shifted from a pale morning sky to the thrilling deep blue-gray of an incoming storm.
She shivered involuntarily as her nipples hardened to peaks, and using her magic, she grabbed Isahn’s biceps, caressing him firmly, urgently. When she gripped his chin with fingers of magic, he stepped forward, knees knocking the basin.
His eyes focused on something over her shoulder, and George faltered, releasing his jaw, pulling back her touch magic, ashamed. This—taking control, demanding what she wanted—it felt too familiar. Too much like her father.
Humming a soft sound of appreciation and need, Isahn tried to catch her gaze, but she stared at her basket of bath oils.
“Your arse looks magnificent in the window reflection.”
He nearly startled a laugh from her, his words so shocking she forgot her guilt for a split second, but it slapped her across the face—lest she forget it—pulling her lips into a frown.
Isahn caught her wrist, his soft thumb rubbing a circle where it landed. “Georgie. Look at me.”
She forced her eyes to his face.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was gentle.
“I like this,” she squeaked out.
“Taking control?”
“Yes. But it feels—” She couldn’t say it.
“Cruel?” he guessed.
George flinched. “Yes.”
“It’s not the same.” Isahn pressed her hand against his chest, against his thundering heart. “Feel that? I want this. I want you to take what you need.”
“But—”
“George.” His eyes held hers. “Taking control when it’s been granted to you isn’t wrong. And you’re not cruel, you care. I can feel it in every touch.”
When she hesitated, he lifted her hand to his face, positioning her fingers around his jaw, just as her magic had been. Then he tilted his head to the side, looking staunchly at the wallpaper as he fluttered his lashes, calling attention to his gaze being anywhere but on her face.
Joy infused George as she applied (light) pressure to his chin and pulled, demanding he face her. His gaze snapped to her immediately, dark and full of yearning.
George sucked in a breath as Isahn whispered, “See, I like it. Your fingers, your magic, your mouth, any part of you.”
“You like it.” Her quiet words were tinged with disbelief.
“Yes, Princess. I like being under your control.”
Invisible energy hovered in the scant space between them, begging for an outlet.
She split her magic into the equivalent of many hands and showed him just how much she cared, how much she valued him, how much he made her feel.
With ghostly fingers, she traced the shape of his toned ass while a firm magical palm wrapped around his shaft.
She trailed up the planes of his stomach while sliding down his sculpted upper arms.
Do this to me, or else, she thought at him in silent command, hoping her eyes conveyed her meaning.
Isahn heard, and his magic wrapped around her, hot and steaming, as he washed away the dirt and grime from spying on the king. Her father had a way of making everyone feel filthy.
Once the great wave was over, he separated his magic into several rivulets, teasing her, exploring every inch of her skin.
Soft palm-like puddles gripped at her bottom, a slender trail of cool liquid lapped her nipples, and she cried out.
His spiraling, pulsing water teased the length of George’s slit before it narrowed to slide through her folds, tending to her entrance and her clit simultaneously.
“Oh, deiwa,” she gasped.
“Is this good?” Isahn’s voice was rough with desire. “Tell me what you need.”
“Don’t stop,” she breathed. “I need this.”
His answering groan vibrated through his magic to fizz across her skin.
“Come to bed.” Again, his command held a note of question.
She loved the way he let her lead, ready to stop and step away at any moment should it be too much. It wasn’t, not even close. So George stuck her hands out for assistance.
He bypassed them, instead leaning in to palm her ass.
“Jump up,” he rumbled before pulling her earlobe into his mouth, scraping his teeth over her sensitive skin.
She nearly shattered right then, but held it together long enough to wrap her legs around his tapered waist.
His fingers dug into her softness most pleasantly. And even more pleasantly, his hard length pressed against her needy center.
Gripping his shoulders tightly, George rolled her hips, grinding into him, sending bolts of pleasure ricocheting through her. She pulsed, feeling more of her wetness coat his cock.
“Georgie,” Isahn growled as he kicked open the door to the bedchamber and left the washroom behind.
“Mmm?” She did it again.
“Woman!” He reached the bed and tossed her down unceremoniously. “You will not make me come first.”
That command wasn’t a question, but George couldn’t say she minded. She laughed, open-mouthed and joyful, as he climbed over the top of her.
“You’re magnificent.” His voice was low as he studied her reverently while trailing the pad of his thumb over her sensitive nipples.
“Mmm, I know,” she teased. Grinning—hard—to keep her eyes from tearing up, she wriggled.
No one had ever called her magnificent before.
She’d only been with a few people over the years and already knew none of them were as attentive or as kind as Isahn.
Still, her teasing comment had the desired impact.
Isahn kissed the smile right off her face, replacing it with an open-mouthed pout of pleasure as his fingers worked their way between her legs, where his throbbing cock had been only moments before.
“Do you want to come on my fingers—”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t done. You didn’t hear the second option.”
She mumbled a sound of question as his fingertip slipped briefly over her most sensitive spot.
“My fingers, or my tongue?”
George popped up on her elbows, cocking her head to the side. He wanted to go down on her, something she’d never done before, never really considered, truth be told. She knew what it was, but she’d never been in a situation where she wanted anything more than fingers... until now.
“Tongue, please.”
Isahn smirked before lowering his face between her thighs and nuzzling her with his nose.
“Oh!” She jolted, falling back when her elbows forgot to work.
“You’ve never done this?” He spoke against her, allowing his lips to tickle against her smooth, shaved skin.
George lifted her hips involuntarily, her body craving what she couldn’t give words to. “No. Am I that obvious?” she managed to get out.
Isahn rumbled from deep in his chest. “I’m going to taste you. Is that all right, Georgie?”
“Yes,” she murmured as he rubbed the tip of his nose against her clit again.
Shock and euphoria had her frozen on an inhale when the slick heat of his tongue first met her center. His first lick was gentle, surprising her with its contrasting intensity. Every nerve in her body fired simultaneously, delightfully overwhelmed, craving something more.
“Delicious,” he rumbled, hot against her flesh.
She emitted a nasally whine, one truly beneath a princess and future queen.
“Again, George,” he requested, running his tongue up her and swirling over her clitoris.
She delivered, and he responded with a growl and his fingers spreading her open for his gaze. She’d never felt so bare, so vulnerable, so utterly safe.
Once he’d looked his fill, it was his tongue’s turn to play, and what Isahn had done first was so very far from what he did to her then, George thought a blissful death was on the horizon. Her heart wouldn’t survive his ministrations.
Tongue wide and flat, he lapped her center before thrusting into her channel like she was the most divine thing he’d ever experienced, like each one of his senses needed her.
He hummed along to a tune that poured from her very soul.
Each time he licked up to her clit, she squealed, body overtaking mind as she pressed herself against his face.