Page 77 of Bride of Ash & Dust

“Your lover,” Zarek replies. “Did he just pleasure himself and leave?”

I stare at him as the silence between us stretches thin.

“Do you actually want me to answer that?” I finally ask.

Zarek shakes his head, but he doesn’t step away. He’s frowning at me like I’m a decision he’s trying to make. The rising sun catches in his eyes and makes the metal cylinder around his neck gleam.

“Princess,” he whispers. “Would you like me to touch you?”

My breath catches. I feel like he’s lit a fire beneath my skin, and suddenly, I’m imagining his hand between my legs, doing the gods only know what as he makes those little gasping noises he just made by the window when he didn’t know I was watching him.

He steps back, then turns away.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I forgot myself.”

“Yes,” I blurt.

He turns back to me. There’s something in his eyes I haven’t seen before, an open sort of hunger that almost looks like fear. For the first time, I realize that something I say or do might actually hurt this man, the legendary snake of Vsenrog.

“Touch me,” I whisper. “Please.”

I let go of the blanket covering my chest. It drops to my hips, and the air in the room feels suddenly cool against my arms and my thin cotton top. My nipples are tight, and they rub against the soft cotton in a way that makes me feel too hot and too cold at the same time.

Zarek makes a sound, almost a sort of groan. It’s so much like the noises he made in the dark, when he didn’t know I was watching him, that it makes my breath catch. He leans closer. My entire body pulls tight, trembling like a bowstring. I shift on the mattress, parting my legs, remembering the massive bulge I saw on our wedding night, the hard, hot length that pressed against my thigh in the carriage.

It’s going to hurt. It always hurt a little with Blayne, and his cock wasn’t nearly so terrifying. But it felt good too, pleasure and pain wrapped together, and gods, I didn’t realize just how much I’ve missed that.

Zarek leans over me. I push the covers to the side and close my eyes, expecting him to part my legs before he pulls his pants down.

Instead, I feel his breath on my neck. His hair traces a path across my shoulder as he kisses the soft skin of my jaw, and then my neck, and then my collarbone.

“Gods,” he mutters. “You are exquisite.”

I’m gasping like I’ve just run a race. My skin is burning where he kissed me, burning where I want him to touch me. Burning everywhere.

When he does touch me, he starts with my neck. His fingers trace a line down my skin, mirroring his lips, and my pulse flutters in response. Gently and slowly, he lifts my undershirt over my head. His hand drops to the cleft of my breasts, and when his thumb runs over my nipple, I make a sound that’s so raw and needy, I can’t believe it came out of my mouth.

And then he puts his lips on my breast, and I cry out. It’s like a burn, like the sudden shock of a fall, the burst of pleasure that races through me as his mouth closes around my nipple. I fall back on the pillow. My hips dig into the mattress, rocking in a way I can’t begin to understand, and I don’t know exactly what I want, but gods, I know I’m going to die without it.

His tongue circles my nipple, and pleasure burns through me, bright and hot. His hand traces a path up the inside of my thigh, to the place where my legs meet, the place that’s so hot and wet it’s embarrassing. His fingers stop at the hem of my shorts. I make another sound, a wordless sort of plea, and his hand slips under the fabric.

My eyes close as his fingers trace the secret parts of my body. My hips tremble as they rock against his hand, begging for something, for more. I realize with a numb sense of shock that I want him, all of him. I want what I felt through my dress, what I saw hidden beneath his tight black pants. I want him inside of me, I want the burn and the pressure, I want to feel all of him with all of me. His fingers trace the hot cleft of my sex while I gasp and writhe, ready to beg if only I could find the words.

And then he touches something else, something at the head of my sex, and the world bursts.

For a heartbeat, I think I might actually be dying. I’ve never felt anything like this, never dreamed I could feel anything like this. I can’t talk, I can’t move⁠—

There’s banging on the door. Zarek’s hand stops. I try to breathe as my body trembles beneath him.

“Wake the fuck up, snake,” a voice growls from the other side of the door.

“I’m awake,” Zarek replies.

The voice grunts. “We’re moving out.”

Zarek’s hand lifts. No! Gods, no! I grab his wrist and press his hand between my legs.

“D-Don’t stop,” I whisper.