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The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom into our bedroom.
It must’ve been a bad night.
Since he took over, he still spends several nights a week defending the defenseless, protecting and serving those the law deems unworthy of the paperwork. But his first priority is taking his father’s place on the throne. I know he wishes things were different. He wishes we were normal—whatever that word really means. But I look at him, tall, sophisticated, and confident, and I don’t just see a powerful man. I see a king. Whether he wants it or not, he was made for this.
The water stops and the room grows silent once again. I feel him walk in. The air changes with his presence. It whispers,Are you ready?
Yes. So ready.
His clean, masculine scent penetrates the air around me, drowning me in its wake. The bed dips and the crisp night air sweeps in underneath the covers when he climbs in behind me.
His large hand slides around my waist to my stomach while his body presses against me. He’s naked. Always naked.
Hard as steel. Smooth as silk.
Soft lips. Rough touch.
All for me.
There’s no need to pretend I’m asleep. He would know. My body can’t hide its reaction to him. His hard cock digs into my back—a stiff column of raw power—and like a magnet, my body arches into him. He never pushes past a touch. He hasn’t broken that boundary since I got hurt. The gentle way he touches me reminds me that he’ll always take care of me. He said we’d wait until I’m ready. And I’m beyond ready. I need him.
He worships the tiny bump in my belly a moment longer, then guides his hand between my thighs. A primal hiss escapes his lips when he finds me without panties. I recognize the hunger in that sound. It’s the appetite of a man at war with his demons, a man battling his way through the darkness to find just a hint of light.
Come back to me. Let me be what you’re looking for.
“Are you ready for this, angel? Because you feel ready.” His deep, velvety voice shatters the silence and makes my body quiver.
“Please,” I moan, knowing it’s the one word that will make him break.
I suck in a sharp breath when he slides a long, thick finger inside me and growls against my ear. My body writhes against his. I want more. I crave him like my lungs crave the air I breathe.
“Open your legs.”
I open my thighs. If his demons need a sacrifice, I want to be it. I want this man, this beautiful tortured man, to know I am irrevocably his. His to claim. His to take. His to own.
He slides his hand down my leg. “Wider,” he commands as he lifts my leg higher.
His body moves closer, if that’s even possible. The thick crown of his cock teases my opening and I can’t fight the moan that spills from my lips.
His teeth nip my shoulder. “I can’t be gentle.” He says the words as though they pain him.
I move against him, inviting him inside, welcoming his hunger. “Then don’t be.”
He rolls me onto my back, then climbs on top of me. His eyes meet mine in a flash, and I see it for a brief second, the darkness he fights so hard to hide. But I’m not afraid. Not of it. Not of him.
In one smooth stroke he’s inside of me. Filling me. Owning me. He holds still as his fingers dig into my flesh. I know I’ll wake up in the morning and smile at the bruises on my hips, quiet reminders that he was here, that I am his.
He reaches up with his other hand and grips my hair, yanking my head back. He runs the tip of his nose along the column of my throat.
His hot breath whispers against my skin. “You need this. You need it as much as I do.”
I grind against him, shameless and needy.
He slowly guides himself out, then back in with a powerful thrust. “Say it.”
“Yes,” I moan.
He loosens his grip on my hair and brings his mouth to my ear. “Tell me you need my cock. Tell me you need me to fuck you like this.”
