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He’s sucking me, licking me, spearing his tongue deep inside me again and again and again, until all I can feel is pleasure.
Until all I can feel is him.
The more sensitive I become, the more he gives—and takes—until I’m bucking wildly against him, twisting and pushing in an effort to get away from the ecstasy that is burning through my every defense and turning me to ash. But he still doesn’t stop, still doesn’t let me go. Still makes me come. Again and again and again.
Finally—finally—when I’m on the brink of insanity and my entire world is reduced to Kian and this moment and the pleasure that coasts along my nerve endings, he pulls away. Then he’s fumbling in his back pocket and pulling out a condom before lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the couch.
“Come here,” he says, his voice low and guttural as he rolls the condom down his length and pulls me on top of him.
He’s almost completely gone, chest heaving, hands shaking, body trembling with the need tearing through him. And still he waits for me to take him instead of thrusting inside of me and taking what he wants. The knowledge breaches my last barrier and I feel myself falling as I give over to him yet another piece of my heart.
I have a pretty good idea where this is going to go—royalty doesn’t marry commoners is a lesson I learned years ago—but right now I don’t give a shit. Right now, all I care about, all that matters, is Kian and making him feel as good as he’s making me feel.
I straddle his hips, reaching between us to guide him inside of me. His hands are on my ass as he lowers me onto his cock. Despite the desperation I can feel rolling off him in waves, he takes it slow, keeps me from taking all of him in one downward plunge of my hips. Instead, he watches my face closely for any sign of pain or discomfort, those green eyes of his burning into mine as he lets me take him inch by excruciatingly slow inch.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, pressing against his hands in an effort to take more of him. To take all of him. “I want you.”
He growls deep in his throat, pressing his lips together in that crooked smile that melts everything inside of me. I lean forward then and lick the grin like I’ve been wanting to for what feels like forever. And then I press my mouth to his at the same time as I twist my hips out of his grasp and sink down on him, fast and hard, until he’s balls deep inside of me.
Kian yells then, a low, hoarse cry that races through my already oversensitive body. He starts bucking against me, hips slamming against my own.
He’s racing for his own pleasure now, his body totally in control as thrusts into me again and again and again. He buries his head against my neck, his mouth working at the hollow of my neck, and I wrap my arms around him. Hold him tight as much to soothe him as to ground myself.
He’s close now, his body strung tight as he calls my name over and over again. But even as pleasure takes him, even as he careens over the edge, he slips a hand between us and circles my clit once, twice, a third time.
That’s all it takes and I’m shooting over that edge with him, my body slamming down as his slams up. Then we’re flying, flying, flying over the edge and straight toward the sun.
His Royal Hotness indeed.
Chapter 25
When I can breathe again, I rest my forehead against Kian’s. Kiss him softly. Then start to slide off of him.
“Don’t,” he whispers, his hands going to my hips to hold me in place. “Stay. Please.”
There’s a part of me that wants to ignore his request, that wants to pull off and head to the bathroom under the guise of cleaning up. Not because I mind being a little sweaty and mussed up, but because I need a moment to get my composure back. A moment to try to build back a little of the wall he’s decimated so completely.
A moment to just breathe.
Because Holy. Fucking. Shit. What the hell just happened? It’s not the sex—or I should say, it’s not just the sex. Because sex with Kian is always like this. Mind-blowing. Soul-shattering. All-consuming.
But today…this was different. It was more. It was like that moment in the ice cream shop when I realized I was falling in love with him, only magnified times a hundred. A thousand. A hundred thousand.
I feel like I’m caught in a whirlwind, like a tornado has just blown through my insides and left me shattered, destroyed, laid bare in front of Kian and I don’t know what to think about that or how to feel.
I shiver a little at the thought and he wraps his arms around me, pulls me impossibly closer. “You okay?” he asks, running his hands up and down my back. “You cold?”
I shake my head, brushing my face back and forth against his chest as I do. It feels good to have him holding me like this. More it feels right, like I belong. I know it’s not true, but I’m not quite ready to admit it. Not quite ready to pull away.
“I’m good,” I tell him, brushing kisses along the powerful line of his stubble-covered jaw before moving on to his throat.
“Yeah?” He tilts his head to give me better access. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” I kiss my way across his shoulder. “How about you? You okay?”
He stiffens, his whole body going rigid for the space of one second, two. I start to pull away, wanting to get a better look at his face—his eyes—but he keeps me in place, pressing one hand against the center of my back and cupping the other around the back of my head.
“Yeah. I’m better than good.”
