Then he kisses me, roughly. And I open up the door to my apartment, closing it and locking it behind us. I think of all the times, all the ways in which he has reduced me to a creature filled with nothing more than want and need. And I want the same for him. I don’t want him to have control.
Because that’s the real problem with the way all of this played out. He had the control. He was the one who chose not to contact me. As much as he saw that as giving me something, it speaks to his ability to stay away from me when I can’t stay away from him. I want him to feel the way that I do. I want him to feel desperate, reduced. I don’t want him to have all this power. The media’s wrong about where the power lies.
It’s not in him being older. It’s not in him being a king. It’s in his ability to withhold himself.
I think of all the times he’s given me three orgasms to his one. All the times that he’s turned our intimacy into my own sexual torture.
It’s wonderful, glorious. And yet at the same time, he is the master of it.
I want to be the master. I want to be the one in charge of everything we are.
Of all this heat and glory.
I want him naked, in front of me while I remain fully clothed.
“Sit down,” I say. It’s an order, and I’m not certain that King Lucian has ever obeyed an order in his life. But he does so, pours his large frame into the wingback chair that sits by the fireplace. “Take your clothes off,” I say.
“You are in no position—”
“Yes, I am,” I say. “I am the queen. And I demand that you make amends for the way that you’ve treated me. I feel extremely ill used. And I want to see my husband naked. Because of course I haven’t slept with anyone else. Haven’t kissed them, haven’t touched them. Have you, my king?”
“Of course not,” he growls.
“Then you must be as desperate as I am.”
“I need you,” he says, and for the first time I see a spark of frayed control.
“If you’re desperate, then show me. Take your clothes off.”
He begins to obey, slowly, his scarred hands working to undo the buttons on his shirt. He strips his shirt away, throws it down onto the floor. Then he undoes his belt, lifts his hips up off the chair and strips his trousers and underwear down. He’s naked, and extremely aroused, his cock standing proud and tempting against his flat stomach. How strange it is that I’ve lived all this time without him. All this time without sex. And yet, now I feel desperate. Now I feel like living without it is killing me.
Perhaps it is just him. Perhaps it’s only everything we are.
I move to him, and I kiss him. I settle myself on his lap, loop my arms around his neck, kiss his mouth, his neck, and then I move to his body, exploring that broad, scarred chest. I slide down to the floor, kissing his stomach, his thigh, working my way to his cock.
He grips my hair as my mouth hovers over him. “I don’t have control.”
“I don’t want you to have control,” I say.
I lean in then I flick my tongue over the broad head of him. I’ve missed this. The taste of him, the feel of him. I’ve missed him more than I can possibly say. My whole body aches with it. It’s like I’m complete again for the first time. It’s like I can breathe again.
This has been wonderful. It’s been my dream. But it’s a dream dimmed, because I’m not complete when I’m not with Lucian. That’s just a burden that I have to bear. The truth that I have to reckon with.
But not now. Now I’m simply going to luxuriate in him. In our mutual desire. And how much he needs me. Just as much as I need him. I’m proving it. I swallow him down as deep as I can take him, showing him my devotion. Showing him just how much I want him. Just how much I crave him. I tighten my hand around his thick base as I take in as much as I possibly can. I pull away for a moment, and he grips my chin, tilting my face up so that we make eye contact.
“They’ll wish they could have you,” he says, rubbing his thumb over my lower lip. “Because look at what a goddess you are. None of these boys are worthy of getting this from you.”
I shake my head. “And I would never, ever give it to them.”
“Mine. That mouth is mine.”
I nod. “Only yours.” Then I lean in, and I take him and again, I lose myself in this. In the desire that’s burning between us, powered by something deeper than simple physical need.
He tries to pull my head away as he begins to lose his control. He doesn’t like to finish this way. He always wants to be inside of me, and I know that. But I’m not going to let him. I’m not going to give him what he wants. I’m going to give myself what I want. I’m going to indulge in this man, who I’ve missed more than words can say.
I’m going to have what’s mine.
Then he arches up, hitting the back of my throat, emptying himself, and I swallow him down, the flavor of him the most glorious thing I’ve ever had.
