Page 95 of Fated to the Wicked King

Too impatient, I nudged him toward the bed. “Yes, yes, it’s fascinating.”

He held my arm to still me, his gaze off to one side.

I almost thought his cheeks reddened. I studied his face. “What is it?”

“Allie, I… The truth is I…haven’t had anyone—since you, that is.”

I resisted the urge to gawk in utter disbelief.

After all of that bravado, all of his arrogant claims of courtier conquests.

This.

I cracked a smirk, despite all manner of butterflies fluttering about in my stomach. Nonchalant as anything, I met his gaze. “I’ll manage.”

His eyes darkened with need, triggered by my tenacity. The desire in him was molten, unbridled passion. He reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion.

I immediately forgot how to breathe normally.

Gods.

The king’s body looked less like something belonging to an ordinary man and more like something carved deliberately for temptation and warfare alike—broad shoulders, taut muscle shifting beneath warm skin, old scars crossing his chest and abdomen in pale silver lines that only made him more devastating to look at.

Heat rushed to my face even before he met my gaze.

His eyes burned with desperation, his voice raw, hoarse. “Touch me.”

A king’s command.

Holding in a breath, I let my palm glide past the smooth planes of his broad chest, his torso, muscles so well-defined they seemed sculpted from marble. Awe and desire tangled inside me as I watched his abs clench and his throat bob in restraint at my feather-like touch.

With a soft growl, he bent down to take my mouth once again.

Warm hands slid up my back, nimble fingers undoing the laces of my dress before fabric tugged past my shoulders. My dress fell to the floor, pooling around my ankles.

Dipping his head lower, he dragged kisses down my throat, to my chest. He cupped my breasts through my chemise, a groan rumbling deep in his throat. “Take it off.”

I shifted the chemise up my head, even as he helped me yank it off my body. He scooped me up, crawling onto the bed to set me down. His gaze dragged up and down my body, his head shaking slowly as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

My cheeks flushed red. I bit my lip, feeling self-conscious, but the wave of hunger emanating from him was so potent.

He clasped the nape of my neck. “You are the only one I want. The only one I’ve ever wanted,” he vowed, his voice deep, rich. “There hasn’t been a moment since I left when I haven’t thought of you, waiting for me, wanting me… When I haven’t thought of taking you, of pleasuring you until you scream my name, until your mind and your body are full of nothing else but me.”

Tears pricked my eyes at the conviction in his words. The intensity of his want was making me dizzy. At the same time, my chest filled with triumph, reassurance, daring. The look of hunger on his face made me ache in anticipation. I reached for his arm to tug him down. “Rabb, please…”

“Yes, my queen.” Bracing against one elbow, he sank beside me. He swept his hand down to slip between my thighs, easily finding my need. His fingers caressed my core before sliding inside.

“Aah…” I clutched at his arm.

His chest heaving, his eyes darkened with pleasure. His gaze pinned on me, he watched me feel him, tracking whenever I gasped, whenever I moaned. His fingers sliding inside, one smooth plunge after another, he stroked my inner walls with precision and expertise—driving me to the absolute brink.

Almost instantly, my hips bucked. I shattered with a ragged moan, blinking spots from my eyes at the intensity of the sensations radiating throughout my entire body—rolling and rolling, god—already the endless pleasure just from his fingers.

Withdrawing from me, he rolled his powerful body to hover over mine, caging me between his arms.

It was a struggle to get myself together amidst the ebbing sensations. Still reeling from my release, I put my hand to my forehead, unable to help a chuckle at how good it felt. But I was eager to reciprocate.

I ran my hand down his torso, catching on his trousers. My heart swelling with hunger, I worked to unfasten his belt, pulling it off even as I tried not to heave as his growing need visibly pressed against my touch.