Page 63 of Queen of Ruin

Another laugh makes her stomach concave slightly. I follow the slope with my lips, then over each rise of her strong abs to her navel. Laying a soft kiss over the top, I continue my path down until the darkness of the blankets fully consumes and there’s a brief wrestle with Valentina’s jeans.

“Next time,” she gasps after the rush of denim leaves her legs, “warn me!”

“If I told you each time I wanted to do this, wouldn’t it ruin the build up?”

My dark haven fades as Valentina lifts the blankets and gazes down the length of her body to my eyes. “Maybe.”

“Then perhaps my Queen should stop complaining and— Argh!”

She lifts both her legs and catches my head between her strong thighs, smirking as I cut myself off. “You were saying?”

“Forgive me,” I groan dramatically. “Your knight misspoke. You can complain all you like!”

Her muscles flex against my ears as she tips her head back and laughs, and it’s quite possibly the most beautiful she’s ever looked. As she relaxes, I settle fully between her legs and darkness descends as the blankets fall over my head once more.

Not that I need to see.

Every small scar and cut gains a kiss from me, every scrape and twisted bit of skin hiding parts of Valentina’s history within their shape. I kiss them all on my way up to her panty line. By the time I get there, the fabric is soaked through so I press my tongue flat to her pussy and lick slowly, drawing a soft, long moan from her.

Could I get her to come like this?

Just licking her through her panties and driving her wild with a touch that’s enough but not as nearly as intense as she deserves? It’s tempting and if we were back home, I probably would. Right now, I want to make her feel good and forget everything just for a little while.

With one finger, I hook onto the edge of her panties and pull them aside, then down her legs far enough that they’re no longer an issue for me. The heat radiating from her pussy, along with her sweet scent, is enough to make my mouth water and I can’t hold myself back any longer. Surging forward, I bury my face between her legs and slide my tongue through her damp outer lips, burying it in the heat of her inner folds and tasting every drop of her that floods forth.

“Diego,” Valentina moans in a breathless whimper above me. “Oh, my God.”

I want to know every single detail of her, every rise and fall, every bump and fold. I want to be able to picture her perfectly in my mind if I ever need to. Long strokes of my tongue through her pussy, from entrance to clit, gradually become kisses over her inner lips. Soft, silky folds catch between my lips and I suckle softly on each one, kiss over her outer lips and the soft curls of hair, then I delve back into her heat and eat her out slowly.

Long, languid kisses, lazy strokes of my tongue, soft, suckling pressure over every sensitive spot, and pointed attention to her clit from the tip of my tongue.

Valentina comes apart. Every part of her trembles, her moans grow muffled, likely from her fingers covering her mouth, and her hips rock back and forth against my mouth as if she’s trying to entice me to go harder.

I keep it slow. Sensual. I study every inch of her until she’s about to come apart at the same and every ragged breath past her lips is muffled music to my ears. She comes when I finally apply harder pressure to her clit and as her thighs close around my head, I thrust my tongue inside her to feel every quiver and pulse of her gorgeous pussy.

“Holy… shit,” Valentina pants hoarsely when I crawl back over her. Her gorgeous, golden honey eyes stand out starkly against her flush, rosy cheeks.

I kiss her, gently brushing some damp strands of her hair away from her forehead. “Good?”

“So good,” she murmurs with lazy blinks. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

“I know.” Drawing her into my arms, I wrap myself around her as tightly as I dare due to her still healing wounds and tuck her head under my chin while my cock protests my lack of further action with her. Given where we are, I’m not risking any of those strangers pulling something while both our pants are down.

Valentina falls asleep within minutes, safe in my arms, and my mind wanders back to one throwaway comment that suddenly carries more weight than I expect.

…Or is he in this because he’s fallen in love with the memory-less princess…

Have I fallen in love with her?

I’ve never been in love, not real love, at least. Infatuation, sure. Lust, definitely. But this with Valentina? I’ve not put a word to it until now because it was just there, growing without my focus, and I didn’t have time to focus.

Now I face a very real chance that I’ve returned her to where she’s supposed to be and the life waiting for her doesn’t have space for me.

And that thought makes my guts ache like they’ve been carved out with a wooden spoon. Losing her… not seeing her face or her smile, hearing her teasing or smelling the vanilla in her hair… it’s not worth thinking about.

I put it out of my mind, but one thing lingers.

I think I have fallen in love with her.