Page 18 of All Hale the Queen

Sliding his hands down my body, he parts my legs and trails his fingers up and down the insides of my thighs as the kiss grows deeper. Cupping my pussy, he caresses my clit with the slow back-and-forth movements I like. The man does know how to take direction.

“Antonio,” I groan into his mouth when the first wave of pleasure begins to wash over me.

“Eyes on me. I want to see your face when you come on my fingers,” he demands, though it’s more like a plea. When our eyes meet and he watches the orgasm take over my body, his pink lips curve into a soft smile. It’s not one of those explosive orgasms; it’s one that rolls outward like the tide coming in at the end of the day, almost soothing despite its intensity.

“God, Antonio…” I breathe.

“That’s it, love,” he coaxes, gentling his fingers on my sensitive bud as he works the rest of the climax from my body.

I turn in his arms, reaching down to wrap my fingers around his erection. Antonio’s head drops back against the slick tiles of the shower wall, his eyelids dropping closed. “Goddamn, Ophelia.”

“Can you go another round?” I purr, stroking him up and down, dragging my hand across the engorged veins.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, his reply is all action, grabbing my waist to spin me around and lift me in one swift motion. My legs go around his waist like they’re meant to be there, and in a blink, Antonio is inside me again.

We both groan at the mutual pleasure. I’m full and wanton, despite having had a very satisfying orgasm only seconds ago.Antonio covers my mouth with his as he begins to move. My hands glide up and down his back, feeling the thick muscles ripple beneath his hot skin.

This round is slower, more sensual, with none of the dirty talk like before because we don’t stop kissing long enough to speak. Even our sounds of orgasm are released into each other’s mouths.

When we’re done, we’re both wearing satisfied smiles, and my legs are like jelly. As I’m drying Antonio’s back with a fluffy white towel, I say, “I’d like you to stay the night if that’s something you’re comfortable with. If not, I totally understand.”

He turns slowly, his gaze searching my face before his lips curl into a pleased smile. “You don’t mind? I take up a lot of space.”

I tap his nose with my finger. “I don’t mind, but I’m warning you, you’re required to be my foot warmer if you sleep in my bed.”

He pretends to bite my finger. “Deal.”

Five minutes later, we climb beneath the crisp dove-gray sheets on my king-sized bed, both of us naked. I haven’t slept in the nude in years, but when Antonio spoons me from behind, I sigh in contentment.

Then I curl my knees and place my feet against his warm calves.

“Holy shite!” he yells, flinching so hard it shakes the bed. “Fecking hell, woman. Those feet could have taken down theTitanic.”

I can’t stop laughing. “My feet are always cold when I go to bed. I have no idea why because the rest of me feels comfortable.” Snuggling back against him, I rub my feet up and down his legs, and he’s heroically still, letting me do it. “But you can’t leave now because it’s part of the contract.”

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to the back of my head. “My mum always said cold feet equal a warm heart. I think she may have been correct.”

With his big arm snugged tightly around my body, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

***

My personal foot warmer is gone when I stretch awake the next morning, and disappointment floods my system.Did he sneak out?That notion is gone the instant the scent of frying bacon reaches my nostrils.

Slipping on a silky emerald-green robe, I make my way down the stairs to find a hulk of a man turning scrambled eggs at my stovetop. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of charcoal-gray gym shorts.

He doesn’t startle when I sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, almost as if he has eyes in the back of his head. I kiss the center of his back, inhaling the masculine scent of a well-fucked man. “Well, aren’t you domesticated?”

“Morning, darlin’,” he says, reaching behind me to pat my ass. “I was trying to make you breakfast in bed.”

I rest my cheek on his back and close my eyes, reveling in how normal this feels. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’ve already fed me twice, so it’s the least I can do.” His thick fingers trace a path up and down my forearm as he continues to cook. “I wish I could have you over to my apartment, but…”

“But you live in the same building as Remi,” I finish.

Setting his spatula aside and taking the pans from the burners, he turns and cradles my face with both hands. “We should probably talk about last night and where we go from here.” He kisses me softly. “Because I don’t think I can let you go now that I’ve had a taste of you, Ophelia.”

My heart soars at that admission, and I lean into him. “Let’s talk while we eat.”