Page 114 of Queen of War and Ruin

She moans and arches her back, pressing her hips into mine. My damn cock practically screams with need.

“We should have broken that damn thing apart,” I pant as I tug on the never-ending fabric of her dress. “Gods, I should have⁠—”

Fuck. There are too many godsdamned layers, too many skirts. My whole body screams that I need this woman now. I need to touch her, need to taste her. I pull away from her lips and close my teeth around the soft skin of her ear.

“Princess,” I whisper. “You want me?”

She gasps. And then the word slides out, hardly louder than a breath.

“Yes,” she whispers.

I kiss her hard, my lips aching with the force of our embrace, with the need burning through my body like a forest fire. When I pull back, I can almost hear her heart thundering against mine.

“Stay quiet,” I whisper.

And I fall to my knees.

Lilias gasps, and her body goes stiff. I shove her stupid skirts up and over my head, then run my hands along the curve of her calves, the soft skin on the inside of her thighs⁠—

I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning with pleasure when my fingers brush the leather straps of the dagger I gave her the morning of the Planting Festival. I run my fingers over the sheath and up the hilt.

She kept the blade. Through everything, she’s still wearing the weapon I gave her.

Fuck, I love this woman.

Lilias trembles as I pull off the thin silk shorts between her legs, then run my hand up the inside of her thigh. Her sex is already dripping, and her hips press against the wall as I kiss the inside of her thighs and then, slowly, finally, taste the woman I married.

Her breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps as I trace a path up her slit with my tongue, entering her, devouring her. Her clit is hard and hot, and she trembles when I taste it. I part her sex with my fingers, entering her slowly as I lick and suck her. Her hips start to rock; she’s making soft, strangled moans, like she’s holding her hand over her mouth.

My fingers curl, pressing against her inside, and she makes a sound that’s almost like a choked, muffled sob. Her legs shake; her sex is so wet it drips down my hand and covers my face. Gods, I love the taste of her, the smell, the feeling of her body against mine, crashing together, falling apart like breakers against the cliff.

I thrust my fingers into her, deeper and faster, as my tongue drives into the hard nub of her clit. I want to do this to her for hours, to see how many times I can bring her to the edge before she tips over. I want to make her come undone over and over again, until she forgets everything she’s ever learned. Everything except the fact that she’s mine, my woman, my princess. My wife.

She cries out, a quick muffled gasp, and her body pulls tight around my fingers. Her hips pulse, driving into my mouth, and gods, it’s so beautiful when she falls apart. My princess.

I pull away from her trembling body slowly, letting her layers and layers of skirts fall back to the ground before coming to my feet. Lilias collapses against my chest, panting like she’s just run the length of the Barrier Mountains. I wrap my arms around her shoulders. The floor finally feels solid beneath my feet, and the room no longer spins.

“Oh my gods,” she whispers. “That— That was⁠—”

A man’s voice calls out from the other side of the door. Both of us freeze. Lilias turns her face into my chest, her breath hot against my neck. I hear Petrys respond, although I can’t make out the words.

And then I hear footsteps. Two men, wearing boots, I think, approaching the door. My arms tighten around Lilias’s shoulders; my skin pulls tight as that strange, low buzz of magic surges through my muscles. The men come closer. Lilias holds her breath. Magic hisses beneath my skin. For a heartbeat, I almost swear there’s a strange glow in the air around us.

The men keep walking. One of them calls something to Petrys as their footsteps pass. Petrys replies, and the men both laugh. I can’t follow their words, but their voices feel casual, almost friendly. Lilias inhales slowly, her breath whispering across my skin. The buzz of magic sinks back into the silver chain.

I pick a few words out of the waves of conversation drifting over us—thanks, party, good wine, asshole—and then another set of footsteps heads toward the servants’ passageway. One set.

Petrys. Gods, he’s good at this. My back stiffens as he approaches the hidden door, but he walks past without slowing. Soldiers and guards don’t take the servants’ stairs. He must be coming around the back.

Lilias lifts her head from my chest. “Where is he—” she whispers.

I press my lips to hers and kiss her, long and slow and deep, the wild salt of her sex mingling with the taste of her sweet lips. She wraps her arms around me as we kiss, her back against the wall, her hands tangled in my hair, the length of my cock pressing into the deep folds of her ridiculously fluffy dress.

“Oh, by the nine hells,” Petrys mutters.

My eyes open slowly, like I’m waking a second time. Lilias blinks at me in the fluttery, warm glow of a single candle. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair is a mess beneath her heavy black cloak.

I turn and see Petrys standing in the narrow stairwell behind us, holding a candle. He raises an eyebrow.