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“Yes,” I whispered.
Thick lashes lowered, shielding his eyes. “Is that why you decided to stay tonight?”
My stomach skipped. “No.”
“Truly?”
A tremor skated down my arms as I lifted them, curling my fingers along the sides of his tunic. In my chest, my heart pounded as I tugged his tunic up. Silent, he took over, removing his shirt, so I reached for the flap on his pants. Unhooking the buttons felt nothing like the first time I’d done this with him. Nor did it when I drew the soft, worn material of his pants down.
“Yes,” I answered as he stepped out of his pants. I placed the palms of my hands against his stomach, eyes closing as I soaked in the feel of his smooth skin beneath my hands. Another tremor went through me. “Truly.”
The Prince said nothing as I ran my hands over his chest, thinking about how his flesh really was made of stone. For several moments, I allowed myself to get a little lost in just touching him. The friction of his hard skin against my much softer hands. The tight dips and rises of his stomach. The corded muscles. I had no idea what I must’ve looked like to him, but the novelty of touching another was far too strong to resist. He didn’t stop me. He just stood there, allowing me to explore, much like I allowed him to do the same, and for that, I didn’t think he could ever understand what he’d given me as I lowered myself onto my knees before him, the stone of the floor as hard as his skin but cold.
I opened my eyes, lifting my gaze to the rigid, thick length jutting out from his hips. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered.
His head tilted slightly, exposing one . . . deeper-hued cheek to the lamplight.
My lips parted. “Are you . . . blushing?”
“Am I?” He sounded genuinely uncertain.
There was something wholly charming in that faint stain to his cheeks— that someone as powerful and otherworldly as a Deminyen could blush. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Thorne,” he corrected. “I don’t think I’ve ever blushed before.”
“Perhaps you have and no one has told you.”
“Many wouldn’t have the courage to do so,” he remarked, head straightening. “But I think this is a . . . first.”
It probably wasn’t, but I liked the idea of being the first to make the feared Prince of Vytrus blush. I smiled as I ran my hands along his thighs, focusing on his length. On my knees, I had to stretch to reach him, he was so absurdly tall. I dragged my hands over his skin, feeling the hard curve of his ass and then the lean flesh of his hips once more, all the while my blood thrumming. His size was impressive . . . and intimidating, and even if this weren’t something I hadn’t done in a while, I still would’ve felt nervous— excited but nervous.
“I was thinking,” I said, feeling bold and wanton. “That since you already had dessert, it would only be fair that I too have some.”
His fingers grazed my cheek before slipping into my hair. “Then have it.”
There was no hesitation, no uncertainty or pretense. I was on my knees before him, touching him, because I wanted to be, and there was nothing in my mind but my own thoughts. My hands didn’t shake as I wrapped my fingers around him, but he did. It was a slight tremor as my grip tightened on him, and I felt it again as my breath teased the head of his cock. I drew my hand up his length, feeling those slight ridges as I glanced up at him.
Air snagged in my chest. There was a faint golden blur to his shoulders, his arms. His head was bowed, hair falling forward and against the sides of his face. I couldn’t see his eyes, but his stare was intense and hot. It fanned the fire already simmering in my veins. The fingers in my hair curled.
I took him in my mouth and I shuddered at the deep, rumbling sound that came from him. I took him as far as I could, which wasn’t all that far, but the Prince . . . His answering groan and the shallow flex of his hips told me he didn’t mind at all. I ran my tongue along his length and over the ridges along the underside, reaching the indent under the tip of his cock. I drew him into my mouth again as he . . . he seemed to warm beneath my hand and inside my mouth, and that heat invaded my own senses. I sucked on the head of his cock, surprised by the taste of him. It wasn’t salty like I’d experienced before, but . . . faintly sweet? Like a dusting of something akin to sugar? I’d never tasted anything like it before. His hand tightened in my hair, tugging on the strands as I sucked harder, my mouth filling with more of the taste of him— my mouth tingled and that sharp swirl of sensations moved throughout me, hardening the tips of my breasts and joining the muscles curling tight and low in my stomach. Feeling myself dampen, I moaned around him. The faint, fiery sting along my scalp as his entire body jerked only heightened my arousal.
I leaned into him, pressing my breasts to his thighs as I worked him with my mouth and my hand. The throb against my tongue echoed between my thighs, and I wanted to reach down and touch myself, but I hadn’t ever done that— hadn’t ever touched myself before another. Gods, I wanted to so badly the ache was almost painful as my fingers pressed into the back of his calf.
“Fuck,” he growled, his body jerking again.
I’d never really enjoyed this act all that much before, but I was greedy now. I was insatiable as I drew him deeper, reveling in his taste, in the deep, guttural moans echoing from him. And when his hips started to rock, I wanted him to move faster, harder. I wanted all sorts of . . . of wicked things as I opened my eyes and looked up at him, my pulse thundering and my body aching. I squeezed my thighs together, shuddering at the flare of desire. His hold on the back of my head firmed, holding me in place as he moved. I wanted—
“Touch yourself.”
My eyes flew open.
He drew his cock from my mouth, and then guided me up onto my feet. My legs shook as he turned me, sitting me so that I was on the edge of his bed. He stepped in, spreading my legs wide. Cool air kissed the heat between my thighs. He reached down between us, taking ahold of one of my hands. He drew it over the length and the head of his cock, his flesh wet with my mouth and . . . andhim.The tips of my fingers immediately warmed and began to tingle.
“What . . . what is this?” I asked, barely recognizing my voice. It was throaty. Sensual. “My skin is tingling and you taste . . .” I swallowed, moaning softly. In the cloud of lust, I remembered something he’d said. “Your come . . .”
“Is an aphrodisiac,” he finished.
“Good gods,” I gasped, eyes widening. He hadn’t even come yet, and it could have this kind of effect? “Now I— ” I moaned as a dart of intense desire pulsed through me. “I understand why people would want it so badly.”
