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I can’t imagine surviving tonight without wanting more.
For his part, Grim looks like he could take or leave survival right now, depending on how much it interrupts his time with my pussy. He slowly lifts his wet fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean while he stares hungrily at the part of me he just pleasured, and then once they’re cleaned, he palms my still-trembling flesh in his hand and meets my gaze.
“More?” he asks. It’s almost ridiculous, because there he is, six and a half feet of potent male with magnetic eyes and a tuxedo worshipping every muscular line of his body—not to mention a glorious erection straining at those well-tailored pants—and he’s asking if I want more after giving me the best orgasm of my life. Of course I want more.
But I do also appreciate the asking. I appreciate the effortless way he knows how to take care of me, to please me; I appreciate the concern he has for what I need and crave. I even appreciate—not that I’d admit it to him right now—that he made his decision about coming here tonight carefully, with consideration for what it might mean for the both of us.
I appreciate him.
“Yes,” I say, pushing into his touch. “I want more.”
Chapter 4
Grim
“Be specific, Lani,” I say, licking my lips where the taste of her is now branded.
The shortened form of her name is an intimacy in itself, somehow grounding this fantastical night in reality. I’m not fucking Her Majesty, Her Royal Highness, or the queen. It’s Lani spread for me, a buffet of firm thighs and proud, high tits, and a tight, wet pussy.
“More,” she says again, uncertainty flickering through her eyes. “I told you I want more.”
“What do you want me to do?” I frown, tilting my head to peer down at her. “Have none of your lovers ever asked what you like in bed?”
Long, thick lashes sweep down, but I don’t let her hide, tipping her chin up with my index finger until our eyes meet.
“I’ve only ever had one,” she admits, her voice husky, reluctant. “I was trained to
please the king.”
I frown, inwardly reeling from the revelation this sensual creature has only been with one man. “And who trained the king to please you?”
“It doesn’t work that way. When you’re the queen,” she says, her smile jaded, cynical. “everyone assumes you’re so pampered, and in many ways you are. But proximity just means you’re first in line to serve the king, the first royal subject. Your pleasure is an afterthought, if it’s thought of at all.”
“Not to speak ill of the dead,” I mutter, casting a hot glance down her tight little body. “But your husband was a fool.”
She raises dark eyes to meet mine.
“Maybe he didn’t understand the pleasure there is to be found,” I say, unbuttoning my pants, pulling down my zipper. “In pleasing a woman so much she can’t remember her name, but she screams yours.”
She glances down at the bulge pressing against my briefs, licks her lips. Her stare is fixed and curious.
“Would you like to see?” I hook a thumb into the waistband of my briefs.
She nods, sitting up, careless of her nakedness with the silk robe pooling around her hips. I pull my dick out and grin when she gasps.
“You’re pierced,” she says, her eyes round and delighted and maybe a little scared when they meet mine.
I take her hand, guiding it to my cock. The pads of her fingers caress the head, the slim barbell of the apadravya piercing.
“Shit,” I hiss, closing my eyes. Even just that barely-there touch tightens my balls, stretches my dick.
She glances up through a fan of dark lashes, her smile turning powerful and wicked. “You like that.”
“Understatement,” I choke out.
“You asked me what I want.” She stands, and the robe slides off the table, puddles around her bare feet and slim ankles.
She walks past me, a provocative pendulum of hips and ass. Pausing at the bedroom door, she looks over her shoulder, the flower glinting and crystalline in her dark hair. When she moved it tonight on the steps, it was a declaration of her willingness, of her desire for me. Her want was on display as surely as if we’d fucked in the open under the full moon with her whole entourage watching.
