She seems determined to destroy it; she clings to me, digging her nails into my shoulders. She presses her feet flat on the mattress and rocks against my cock. Electric jolts shoot through me, one after another, to the rhythm she sets.
Siren. Mine.
“Yes, Princess,” I groan.
“Not Princess.Queen,” she corrects me breathlessly. “I’ve always hated the term princess—pretty but helpless.”
My muscles tense. Every time she talks like this, it reminds me of Queen, except she isn’t Queen, and I shouldn’t confuse thetwo. Queen wouldn’t show up this easily into my life again. Not after being hidden for twenty-two years.
Focus.
Not wanting to associate my temporary wife with Queen, I bury my face in the crook of her neck and rock harder and faster, making sure my cockhead bumps her clit each time. She lets out a whimper, then slaps at my shoulders as though to protest that she can’t endure another orgasm.
Yes, you can and you will.
I pull her earlobe into my mouth and nip.
Every cell in her body clenches, and she sobs as another peak wrecks her. She holds me as though she will never let go. Her desperation should make me pull away; instead, it pushes me over the edge.
A deep groan tears from my throat, and I lose myself in climax as shudder after shudder racks me. When I can drag air in again, I push myself up on my hands and take in the sight of my cum splattered all over her belly. My mark on my woman in the most primitive sense. She flushes under my gaze, and there’s a hint of vulnerability in her eyes as she looks down for a moment. My skin feels overly tight, like it can’t contain the abrupt swelling of possessiveness.
I cradle her face, kiss the tip of her nose and forehead, while smearing more of my cum all over her like a wolf marking his territory. She doesn’t protest. Instead, she kisses me back just as passionately.
“Did I pass?” I ask after a while.
She blinks slowly. Then a mischievous grin curves her swollen lips. “Lemme think about it.”
I cock an eyebrow, taking in her heated face. “Need more demonstration?”
Her cheeks turn rosy again. Need glimmers in her eyes, followed by a hint of surprise. “How could I want more?”
“Because it feels unbelievably great?” I tell her, lightly flicking my index finger over her small nose.
“Yes, but… No. I don’t need more.”
Her firm rejection sends an unexpected—and uncharacteristic—disappointment through me. I’ve never craved more time in bed with a woman before. If the other party didn’t want it, no big deal.
“We need to get out of Vegas before our stalkers find out where we are,” she says, then gives me a saucy look. “But later…we can investigate the matter between us more thoroughly.”
Chapter Twelve
Ares
When Lareina cleans up and comes out of the bathroom, I lower my coffee mug and stare. Her golden hair loose around that pixie-like face with its large blue and green heterochromatic eyes and the white dress on her, she looks awfully like—
Not Princess. Queen.
Her breathless correction ripples in my head. Something about the way she said it made me think of the girl who said, “Just ‘Queen’ will do fine,” so regally. For a moment I thought she was Queen until I reminded myself she couldn’t be out here. Besides, if she were in Vegas, wouldn’t the investigators I’ve hired over the years have found her by now? I had them try to trace her from Oregon, and they found nothing. Clues came every so often, but none of them turned out to be anything.
Still…
Could Lareina be Queen?
I send a quick instruction to Greg:Look into Lareina Huxley’s background.
–Greg: Huxley?
His confusion is palpable. He knows there is no such Huxley in the family.
