He’s so close. The thought alone was nearly enough to send her over the edge.
And when he did finally lose that last thread of control—when he threw her onto her back and slid that glorious cock deep between her thighs, ruining her completely—her last coherent thought was that she had never felt so deliciously wrecked in her life.
And that, yes, she did, in fact, like being spanked.
Chapter fourteen
“I’mhungry.”
Emmaline stretched, her muscles languid and deliciously sore, her body melting further against Deyric’s warmth. She burrowed in, pressing closer to the muscled roundness of his shoulder, her fingers idly tracing the ridges of his chest.
The pile of sumptuous linens beneath them—typically reserved for grand castle functions, like a ball—was hopelessly disheveled, tangled around them like the remnants of a fever dream.
She had no idea how long they’d been hidden away in the secret storeroom. It could have been minutes or an eternity. Nor did she know how many times they’d—
Her whole body flushed, pleasure licking up her spine at the memories.
“You’re hungry?” Deyric’s voice was a lazy rasp, his lips skimming the curve of her neck as he nipped at her skin. “I’m sure there’s... something in here we could put in your mouth. Again.”
“You wish.” She reached back, aiming a playful swat at his head, but he moved before her hand could land.
In a heartbeat, she was on her back, her breath punched out of her lungs as Deyric flipped her in one smooth motion. He hovered over her, his weight balanced perfectly on all fours. Emerald hair fell in asilken curtain, the strands brushing against her collarbone, tickling her already sensitive skin.
“Oh, I do wish.” His eyes burned into hers, dark with something wicked, wanting, and dangerously insatiable. Then he lowered himself, his mouth claiming the taut peak of a breast, his teeth dragging before he sucked, tongue flicking over the mark he left behind.
A sharp gasp burst from her lips as her back arched up, desperate to close the distance between them, to pull him flush against her again. His hips met hers with a slow, torturous grind, the firm press of him sending a delicious shockwave straight through her entire body.
Fingers clawing into his back, her legs spread—
A soft knock shattered the moment.
She froze, breath still ragged, body still thrumming.
A voice—muffled but familiar—drifted through the hidden door. “They’re gone, Deyric. It’s safe to come out.”
The knock was like a bucket of cold water, and yet neither of them moved. Deyric’s breath was still hot against her neck as Emmaline’s fingers tangled into those emerald locks, not quite willing to let go yet.
Then the voice came again. “They’re gone, Deyric. It’s safe to come out. Should I open the door?”
Emmaline groaned, dropping her head back against the makeshift bedding and scowling at the ceiling. “Who in rot and ruin is that?”
Deyric sighed, rolling onto his side as he ran a hand through his thoroughly mussed hair.
“Jenni. One of the cooks.” His fingers trailed down her bare thigh before he gave it a final, reluctant squeeze. “You might have to settle for actual food to quell your hunger.”
Huffing, Emmaline rolled upright and smoothed out the fabric of her dress where it had been bunched and wrinkled in all the wrong places.
Deyric stretched, muscles flexing before he snagged his shirt from atop a sack of rice, shaking it out before yanking it over his head. “If we stay in here much longer, she’ll leave, and we’ll be stuck all night.”
Emmaline paused, one hand still gripping the laces at the back of her dress. “And?”
He turned, catching the look in her eye, his brows lifting. “Gods, woman. Is it the insanity that lends itself to such… endurance?”
A wicked smile crept onto her lips, but he was already moving toward the hidden door before she could answer, rapping his knuckles against the stone. “Give us a minute, Jenni.”
From the other side came a pointed scoff. “Us?”
Emmaline bit back a laugh as she tied the last of her laces. When she looked up, Deyric was watching her, something unreadable but strangely fond flickering in his gaze. He stepped in front of her, lifting a hand, and ran his fingers through the disheveled waves spilling over her shoulders, taming the worst of it.
