A creature waiting to be told he was free.
He wasshaking.
And for the first time since she met him, she was almost scared to be beneath him.
“Do your worst…Fire Prince.”
Dorian was on her before she could reconsider.
She was flipped to her stomach, hauled to her knees, her ponytail in his hand, and he thrust into her at the same time that he yanked her head backward. A loud cry left her lips, tingles in her hair and brushing over her skin as he filled her to the hilt. His groan sounded like a constricted roar in the back of his throat, and then Dorian took her.
Mercilessly. Eagerly. Deeper and fuller somehow with every adrenaline-filled thrust. Their bodies slapped against one another, his fingers digging into her hips so hard that she felt her skin break. He pulled her up after a moment, his chest flush with her back when he stood at the end of the bed. His hand wrapped around her throat, the other around her front, and he thrust into her again at the exact moment that he pinched her clit.
Bala cried out, reaching behind and grasping his hair hard, pulling as he bit her throat and fucked her savagely. There was nothing delicate about this Prince. This was him as his true self. The one the rest of the world should be scared of. He wasn’t even in his form, and she was sure one wrong move would have sent him snapping her neck. He was rough and relentless. He was fire and king. He would make her bleed had she asked him to, and as she felt her own orgasm cresting, she realized he was still waiting on her to tell him he could come.
“Bala…Please…”
Straining. Pleading. A tear escaped her from the beauty of his aggressive handling, and she swore one dropped onto her shoulder from him.
“Come for me, Prince,” she said as his hand tightened on her throat.
Dorian moved from inside her and whipped her around, throwing her onto her back. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her flush, thrusting into her again. And as she cried out, her walls beginning to convulse around him, Dorian pulled her up by her throat, and his lips crashed into hers.
Bala surrendered. Her arms wrapped his neck, hanging on and opening up to him, their tongues lashing, teeth biting one another’s lips, and Dorian groaned into her mouth as he thrust inside her a final time with his release.
Shaking, their sweat mingling, the kiss slowed. Her back met the mattress softly, and for a moment, Dorian stilled, his forehead against her breast as though he were catching his breath. But Bala saw stars, and she had to bring herself back down into reality when cold swept over her in the absence of his body.
Dorian stood, and she watched as a chill of his form shuddered over his lean body as if it had found its release as well. But as she sat up, she watched him sink to his knees before her and dip his head.
Bala stood over him, his release and hers trickling down her thigh. She reached for his hair one last time, and she pushed his head back so she could see his face. Dorian’s widened blue eyes met hers.
“My King…” he said, his hands now wrapped behind her thighs. “Did I please you?”
And she could see the tease now back in his face, trying to hide behind that mask of submission that he’d so very well put on for the last hour.
“You are the actual worst,” she said.
“Ohno…” he drawled sarcastically. A low chuckle left his lips as he leaned forward and kissed the inside of her knee. “I suppose that means you’ll have to punish me again.”
Bala shoved his face, and Dorian fell to the floor, a smile illuminating in the firelight. She reached for her pants and began to dress again. But Dorian didn’t move, and once she had her pants on, she turned, finding him still sitting on the floor leaning against the bed, one leg bent up, the other sprawled out, staring at her in a snarky way, and she hated how attractive he was sitting like that.
“Does this look usually get women back in the bed with you?” she asked as she pulled on her shirt.
A heavy sigh left his lips, head leaning back into the mattress, downcast eyes traveling over her again. “Not many women are up for what you just did,” he admitted. “Thank you for indulging me.”
And she was caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “Not many men are strong enough to handle being on their knees or crawling on a leash before a woman,” she agreed. “Thank you for being such agoodboy,” she teased. “Even if you were faking.”
But Dorian sat up at the accusation, confusion stretching over his features. “What makes you think I was faking?” he asked.
She laughed, sinking back against the chair. “Prince… Of course, you were.”
“Because I looked happy about it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Why should I not look happy about having a woman dominating over me and finding pleasure in being in charge?” he asked.
His voice made her think perhaps she’d struck a nerve.
